Shhhhhhhh....

I come to you tonight from an undisclosed location. OK, I am on the subway level between the Charlton and Gonda buildings of the Mayo complex. A little computer hideaway where people are allowed to check their email, and presumably, post their blogs:)

Loren's gall bladder surgery went very well and he is safely ensconced in a bed on 7g, in the CCU at St. Mary's. He is being monitored, heartwise, just as a precaution. I have to turn my cell phone off when I pass through the double doors to his unit. It is all very mysterious and kind of exciting. Even now, as I type, I am feeling a little spyish and goosepimplish.

I am supposed to be out on my 4 mile walk, but I got a hankerin' for my blog. It's almost as addictive as chocolate.

Just wanted to let everyone know that things went very well. If Loren has a good night, he will be released sometime tomorrow morning. :-) :-) :-)

One little amusing anecdote: when first coming onto the Critical Care Floor, I had to give the desk a "password," something I could give out to others, without which they or I could not communicate with the nurses by phone. She said it could be a color, a favorite food, whatever. Presented with this mental task, I went blank and said, "Oh dear." (I was just thinking) The receptionist replied, "Beer? Ok, " and started to write it down. Of course, I WOULD have kept that, but since Pastor John was right there, I felt compelled to decline. (actually, we had a good chuckle over it) I picked out "10 kids," instead. It was the first thing that came to mind.

From somewhere in Minnesota........

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Short Sabbatical

Taking short sabbatical from blogging. Hoyt monthly letter due soon and must save a little good material. (so, of course, now nothing of interest will happen) This will not, I repeat, WILL NOT prevent me from commenting on others' blogs.

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Traces of Mayo

Have you ever wondered what it is like to visit one of the premier medical facilities in the world? (yeah, me neither, but I'm gonna tell ya anyway) Mayo Clinic of Rochester Minnesota is hardly the spot one would pick to spend quality time with the spouse, but, it is interesting, nonetheless. Here are a few glimpses of our "vacation" today:

Up at 5:50 a.m. to prepare for first appointment. Loren is forbidden breakfast since he has to have blood drawn in a fasting state. I stuff his food into my tote bag which already contains 3 liters of water, two books and my emergency supply of chocolate. The total weight comes to just under that necessary to dislocate one's shoulder. Fortunately, I maintain proper balance with a large purse on the other side. It houses all the usual female paraphernalia, (including chocolate) and can double as a diaper bag in a pinch.

By the time I drop off Loren and zip into a space in the parking garage, he has traveled to the 9th floor, picked up his orders, and found a seat back on lobby level in the spacious waiting area for labwork. It can be depressing to see 75 or more people waiting to have labs drawn. Everyone is immersed in their own little private world of sickness. I try to concentrate on my anacrostic puzzle while the man in back of us meticulously describes the biopsy he had performed on a tumor. The nurses call each patient by name and greet them with a cheery, "How are you today?"

After this I grab a wheelchair and we proceed to 2nd floor for a chest x-ray. (walking too far at one time really tires Loren out, so multiple office visits in a day mean wheeled transport is needed) The chest x-ray is taken at nearly every visit, to monitor possible fluid buildup in the lungs, heart enlargement, and who knows what else. While I am waiting for Loren, a man walks in with his son, who is sporting a mohawk in various shades of red and yellow. Sort of the "autumn raccoon tail on the head" effect.

Next, it is down to the subway level, walk a block, and up to the 16th floor of another building for an ICD check. The device is interrogated by a very nifty little computer interrogator thingy that is placed directly over Loren's device in his abdomen. The check uncovers just one sustained fast rhythm, which only lasted for 6 beats. He's also throwing a few PVC's every so often, but the technician feels everything looks fairly good.

There are two hours before the next appointment, and since Loren is short on sleep, we go looking for a place where he can rest. After searching 6 different floors, we finally locate empty seating near a sunny bank of windows. Loren crashes on the couch and I now occupy his wheelchair. Time to pull out my latest attempt at reading: "The Egg and I," by Betty MacDonald. An overhead speaker beams out music that is one evolutionary level above elevator status. The tranquil atmosphere is broken only by the metallic click of door latches, nurses loudly announcing the next patient, and various non patient persons traversing the halls in entirely too cheerful a manner. And then, there are the cell phones going off.

The most interesting call I overheard was by a Donald Trump wannabe, who strode back and forth, talking loudly, obviously not caring WHO heard him. There were meaningful references to, "the Chicago office," and something about, "get a new secretary," frequently punctuated with, "Awesome!" and "Excellent!" (or, he could have just graduated from a tech school, I'm not sure) I was intrigued by, "I don't want to do that because I am SO not like that." (probably code for corned beef with rye, instead of whole wheat) I was tempted to sidle down with my notebook and pen, but I was afraid he might think I wanted his autograph.

Lunch at the noisy cafeteria was followed by a consult with the gall bladder surgeon. (or is that sturgeon? I always get those two mixed up) Loren was found to have gallstones in February and the transplant people want that organ removed before he gets a new heart. Gall bladder flareups can lead to nasty complications like pancreatitis, infections; things transplant recipients are encouraged to avoid. The surgeon had visited Loren during his last hospitalization but did not want to perform it then, owing to Loren's worse than usual health at that time. "We always sweat a little bit when we do you guys with ICD's," were his encouraging words.

But the last weeks have been a good spell for Loren, good enough to schedule the laparoscopic surgery for Tuesday, the 31st of August. We'll go up on Monday, get him an abdominal CT scan, then have the routine surgery on Tuesday, stay in hospital for that night, and head home on Wednesday. Loren's coumadin is being discontinued until after the procedure, to prevent excess bleeding.

(this is getting SOOOOO long, I am sorry)

Back over to another building, 9th floor, to see transplant coordinator and cardiologist. They have to agree to the surgery, which they do. So we will soon be checking another item off "the list. "

The two and a half hour drive gets us home shortly after 6, with little warm bodies running out like small missiles to greet us, crying, "You're home, you're HOME! We missed you so much!" (lotsa huggin' and kissin') Really, this is by far the best part.

Nothing left to do but discover two hours later I had left the lights to the car on, :-( and have the Olympics interrupted by more severe storm coverage. (is this a conspiracy, or what?) Another tornado warning, but we stayed upstairs this time.

(say, is it just me, or does anybody else think Marion Jones looks a lot like Derek Jeter?)

must.....go....to......bed........

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Assorted Joys

This has simply been a super day.

1) My "Complete Works of William Shakespeare" arrived in the mail this morning. :-) It is a used, hardback copy in pretty decent shape. I ordered it for the literature class in which Jason and Kendra will be studying 6 of his plays. In addition, I am going to read his sonnets and pretend I understand what he is talking about.

2)Loren was able to fix the cruise control on the little Toyota, which will make for more pleasant driving when we visit Mayo later this week.

3)Received some completely unexpected, but delightful communications from two people I have never met. I anticipate vast opportunities to converse, annoy and tease these two in the future.

4) Got in an hour of mowing, which always kicks in those endorphins.

5)We had some lovely produce from the garden for lunch: cherry tomatoes that Carolyn, nine, grew from seed. Also, carrots that Ethan has been nagging me to pull for the last two months.

6) Got Trevor to nap with relatively little trouble, then proceeded to mow some more. (Endorphins really cruising along, by now) Finished just in time for a big show by the younger kids. Their advertising flyer follows:

Hoyt
Gymnastics!!
Live today!!
at 4:40 p.m.
On the swing set
___________________

ps. The gymnasts are some
undisclosed Hoyt kids.
Be on Time!

There were programs handed out at the door (going outside) and a viewing stand constructed from boards set on bricks. But it was when they prepared to start that I observed the crowning bit of authenticity; they had set up a little chalk stand. It was an inverted frisbee, set on stacked boards, and filled with leftover cement powder. I thought that was a nice touch.

Ethan, Carolyn and Melinda, (11) who also doubled as coach, proceeded through their routines with no broken bones, no contusions and no abrasions. Ma Hoyt's score? No deductions.

The start time was carefully chosen so as not to conflict with their daily dose of "The Lone Ranger, " at 4:00. Ten minutes time was allocated for warmups and last minute consultations with sport psychologists. Following the performance, there was a rousing game of multi-age volleyball, with swingset serving as the net.

I was reminded of another Olympic year, which inspired the children to set up their own athletic exhibition. It was ten or twelve years ago, and Ardith and Sharon were the only participants. We even had medal ceremonies with the winners standing at solemn attention. Coincidentally enough, the gold medal kept alternating between the USA and Canada, since those were the only national anthems in the hymnbook.

Enough reminiscing. Time for all hardworking Olympians to have supper.

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One More Thing....

I am looking for a little assistance in blog setup. Specifically, how to add that nifty "recent comments" section on the sidebar. Have looked through the "help" section of Blogger, but the answer is not readily apparent to a novice such as I.

Is there some little snippet I need to copy and paste onto the template? Is there something in the "help" section I have overlooked? Is there really such a thing as Global Warming?

If the answer is too long for a comment, please contact Ardith and tell her to PLEASE EMAIL HER POOR, IGNORANT MAMAN! (there, I feel better now)

Of course, any serviceable help will ensure my eternal gratitude AND top-notch" will status" for at least a month. Merci beaucoup.

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"It's Wretched Living Like This"

These were Loren's words last evening, shortly before bed. He had not slept well the night before due to his heart pounding for a long period of time. Usually that is indicative of working too hard during the day, except, he hadn't done much of anything. I share this not to alarm people, but just to let folks know a bit of the up and down nature of life in this situation.

I am often asked, "How is your husband doing?" That is difficult to answer, short of 2 or 3 hours. Since most peoples' eyes start to glaze over after five minutes, I usually answer with, "He's hangin' in there." Some days there may be significant variances from hour to hour. And, if I even touch on the emotional impact on him, I get the distinct impression that another Bible verse will soon be offered. So, if you ask me how he is doing and you feel my answer is less than forthcoming, please know that I do not mean to be unkind. It is easier on YOU if you do not know all that takes place, and, it is easier on ME if I do not have to relate it. It is enough to get through each moment, hour and day. (that's part of the reason for the blog, so I don't have to give the same report, over and over. Lazy of me, isn't it?)

But, dispensing with that labored explanation, Loren has been some better this afternoon, feeling well enough to go out for a haircut. We're going for a new look here, the "flat-top." :-) He thought it would be an easy style to care for when he goes into the hospital. That way, the nurses can just spit on his head a few times and zip, zap, he'll be good to go. Of course, he won't be ABLE to go anywhere, but if he were, he'd be ready. Loren claims it didn't come out quite flat on top, but I think he's real spiff. Sorta the kinder, gentler marine look.

At this very moment, (4:10 pm) he and Jason are in close consultation together over Sharon's computer. That in itself will tell you Loren is feeling relatively decent, for a man with heart failure. But just as the approach of autumn gives one that nudge to finish up those end of summer tasks, we are feeling it is time to set a few things in order, get him to the dentist, the eye doctor, etc. He has had a good couple of months (for him) and was able to get a taste of family camp, enjoy parts of our family reunion, and engage in some interesting conversations with Ardith and Heather. But we are sensing it will soon be time to move on to the next step in heart transplant status. (more detail on that, another day)

Time to finish those homeschool registration forms, time to put the house in order. (OK, that was a joke) Most importantly, it is time to lay in a supply of chocolate for the winter. Oh yes, there is much to be done.

At least Loren's hair is ready.

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Ma Hoyt Drives Solo

"The day dawned cool and clear......" no, no, no, sorry about that.

Sharon and I left home shortly after 8:30 am. She had packed the little car while I had taken a farewell walk around the mile. The hubby and kids all looked appropriately forlorn. "Hug your sister!" I exhorted. " You won't see her until Thanksgiving!" We departed, only to return moments later to grab the two plants accidentally left on kitchen table. (she may have been purposely trying to leave them, but there was no way I was going to let her green flowerpots clash with my newborn French Country Kitchen.

We had quite the convivial time of it, talking and laughing together so that the first 2 or 3 hours when very quickly. The conversation soon digressed into sorting out all the phobias and idiosyncrasies of the rest of the household. Personally, I found it very helpful.

I took the wheel in the beginning, then Sharon drove over the Mississippi and through much of Illinois, the latter part of which was highlighted by driving over the Mississippi. Somewhere in there we switched again and the speedometer started going whacky. Had to gauge my speed by how fast people were passing me. If they were blowing by me so quickly I couldn't read the license plate, I picked up the pace. Also helpful: the steering wheel starts to shake a bit around 70mph. (speaking of license plates, we saw all extremes: Alaska and Florida, California and Maine. And that was just in Iowa)

There is a twenty mile stretch below Chicago that I made mental note not to travel again. Took an hour to traverse 20 miles due to road construction.

Got there safe and sound, if a little later than planned. Dropped Sharon and her stuff off at Grace College and proceeded 45 minutes north to visit my folks. Arrived half an hour before the chosen restaurant closed so we scurried over there, where I showed amazing restraint by not pigging out. I was visiting with them back at the house when Sharon called and said her computer would not work, she had consulted with her Dad, and would I come back in the morning and retrieve it to take it back with me for him to fix? No problem, although this concerned my folks because, "Then you can't go back by the toll road!" (I don't know why, but this seemed important to them) Well, it all worked out and I had a nice visit with them and some other relations, one of which I had not seen for several years.

Drove back down to Grace in the morning and picked up Sharon's computer. It was now time for the moment of truth; my drive back alone. I kept the radio blaring as I cruised through the station assortment looking for some country. Country stations, though often depressing, are palatable for short durations because of the amusing titles or phrases. The best I could glean this time was, "You broke my heart, and now we're apart, you think you're so smart..." or something like that. (the all time best was one mentioned on Paul Harvey's show several years back, "I've got tears in my ears from lyin' on my back on my pillow, cryin' over you."

Stopped at a Walmart for diet Cherry Coke and dark Dove's. I think the heady wine of self sufficiency overcame me, for I decided to go through the self-checkout. I tried to act like a nonchalant veteran as I waited my turn in line. And hey, it went so smoothly I couldn't resist a look of awe at the young man behind me as well as, "Wow, that was neat!" He probably thought, "Poor lady, she doesn't get out much."

Everything was pretty routine, trip wise. There is a very nice religious station around Joliet, 91.9, that plays the classic kind of arrangements I especially enjoy. Lots of acappella stuff. The very best part of the drive back, though, was after I crossed "The Father of Waters," and realized that I would be able to hear "A Prairie Home Companion" in it's entirety. I NEVER get to do that. Ah, what bliss! The sun was heading towards the horizon, the little car humming along at who knows what speed, some very fine music regulars and a group called the "Klazmatics." PLUS, I was introduced to a poet named, Billy Collins, with a slightly bent and nonassuming manner that I found quite appealing. I tried to look up a specific poem about a mouse setting the house on fire, but couldn't find it. Here is another one equally engaging:

Flames

Smokey the Bear heads
into the autumn woods
with a red can of gasoline
and a box of wooden matches.

His ranger's hat is cocked
at a disturbing angle.

His brown fur gleams
under the high sun
as his paws, the size
of catcher's mitts,
crackle into the distance.

He is sick of dispensing
warnings to the careless,
the half-wit camper,
the dumbbell hiker.

He is going to show them
how a professional does it.

--Billy Collins

(he does not write on pyrotechnic topics exclusively, and now I see I have messed up the font, but, oh well)

After that came "The Thistle and Shamrock," which is more excellent music and made me vow to learn how to talk like the hostess before I die. Well, that's the gist of it. Thankfully, all went relatively well. Mission accomplished and it is great to be back home.

It is also good to finally feel grown up.

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Livin' on the Wild Side

I have returned!

Here is a very brief rundown of the wild shenanigans I partook of as I traveled back to Iowa all by myself:

1) Played country music
2)Played oldies pop/rock (listened to couple hours religious for balance/penance)
3)Ordered DOUBLE quarter pounder w/cheese
4)Belched aloud, more than once
5)Utilized self-checkout at Walmart, for first time :-)
6)Bought 2 Lotto tickets.....JUST KIDDING, Pastor John (only bought one.....Hah! gotcha again. I didn't buy any, really.
7) Drove with broken speedometer (I find you make better time that way)

More indepth reporting later, gotta do some catchin' up.

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A Minor Freakout

The sun arose on a cool, clear morn. The day seemed primed for peaceful and quiet thoughts; a day for reflection, for meditation.

I mused reflectively and meditatively as I walked down to the church to clean: "Ah, the beauty of the blue sky against the green fields.....what clarity of color....what endless horizon. What on earth am I going to blog about today?"

I entered the silent building, it's hushed emptiness enveloping me like a quiet, familiar friend. I meditatively picked up the broom, swiffer wipes and mop. As I commenced on the first bathroom, the toilet bowl brush lay reflectively in my hand. It was time to partake of the familiar and quiet motions of cleaning and decontaminating. Yes, it was time to commune with porcelain and stainless steel.

I proceeded from bathroom to bathroom; a reflective swipe here, a meditative swish there. Peaceful vibes were literally oozing out of me.

It was then that I spied it; a dead bird in the toilet.

"GOOD GRIEF!" I cried aloud in dismay. (I'm sorry. I hope I haven't shocked anyone. It just slipped out involuntarily. I sincerely hope that language is not too gritty for some)

What if it wasn't dead? (quickly put toilet seat down) How did it get there? Was it possible?....could it be?......that Alfred Hitchcock was 40 years ahead of his time?

I raised the lid and gave it a few tentative pokes. The bird had indeed expired, it's wings outstretched, it's head above water, it's beak opened as if in mute appeal, "I've fallen and I can't get up!"

There was nothing for it but to fish it out. It was a starling. I......I......I don't think I can talk about it any more. (sniff)

When something traumatic happens, I've found it helpful to engage in some vigorous outdoor activity. It helps to clear the mind of your frustrations, your frightful experiences, your dead-bird-in-the-toilet scenarios. I needed to mow. I needed to mow bad.

And that is what I did. I finished my cleaning, albeit in a slightly less reflective and meditative manner. And then I went home and mowed, and mowed, and then I mowed some more. And after I finished mowing, I ate chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. It's probably good I am leaving town tomorrow. I have to get away from that image, that image which has been seared into my memory. For, how do you ask a bird to be the last bird to die in the toilet?

Really, it's all coming back afresh. I...........I..........I need more chocolate.

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A Day in the Life of Ma Hoytavich

Some days just start out wrong.

The alarm clock never went off and we awoke 30 minutes late. This wouldn't be too bad, except one of the heart medications is to be taken at 6:30 am. Still, a half hour shouldn't make too much difference.

Wednesday is also Fosamax day for Loren. Has to be taken once a week, first thing in the morning. Couldn't find the pill. Well, that, too, won't matter much. Take it Thursday instead. (remember to call in Rx)

Loren is on Fosamax to combat bone loss, discovered in the first week long visit to Mayo. Probably acquired in part from sedentary lifestyle adopted to accommodate weakened heart function. The docs at Mayo want to try and reverse this, for, after a transplant, one doesn't want to deal with broken bones, or popped ribs from lifting heavy things, such as beds....

Well, now, yesterday, Loren was trying to stick some blocks under the head of the bed to facilitate sleep. Makes it easier for him to breathe and such. He heard a distinct "pop," and has had some pain on left side of ribs ever since. ("You should have asked for help." "I know.")

Ran him to the family doctor this a.m. to have it x-rayed. Isn't broken and doesn't appear to be cracked. Doc R. thinks may have cracked cartilage, which will heal with time.

Well, that was worth a good 2 and a half hours of time. Always something with that guy!
No matter, I want to be with him for all the medical stuff. I NEED to be with him. When I received that call 9 and a half years ago saying he had been found by the side of the road in cardiac arrest, it took several hours to get to the hospital. There was childcare to arrange and a nursing babe to tote along on ice covered roads for the hour drive. (took two) I felt I missed out on a lot. But no more! Besides, it takes two of us to keep track of things when talking to medical staff. We figure that between my good health, and his good brain, we're almost a complete person.

On with the boring details: Did breakfast dishes for Kendra (15) who has bruised growth plate in left wrist, but will SOON be resuming warm water therapy. Took time out to annoy a few people on the blog circuit, then made lunch and put a fidgeting two year old down for nap. Ahhh, time to do some serious mowing. Added oil and gas to the machine and.... and.... it started to rain. (rats, Rats, RATS!)
Went down to clean at the church instead, where working conditions are relatively dry. (and oh, so quiet)

Returned to find weather compatible with mowing and managed to get in 1 and a half hour's worth. Left for pharmacy still attired in mowing clothes and slurping diet cherry Coke. Arrived five minutes before closing time. (pant) Brushed grass clippings from legs and entered pharmacy, where no one, absolutely NO ONE told me how nice I looked.

Home with just time to fix quick supper of omelets and toast for kids before Sharon took them to prayer meeting. Put on Veggie Tales for two youngest and put on the Three Tenors for me as I type. (working on second time through CD, at this very moment :-)

And now, it will soon be time to fill the tub and see if I can soak some dirt off the two rascals before they let all the water down the drain.

BREAKING NEWS: Have just been informed Loren has fixed Sharon's printer. He is happy. I am happy. We are all happy. "IT'S A WRAP, folks" (puts in can)

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Tornados and Other Forms of Retribution

Had a little excitement with the weather last night. The TV kept alternating between the Olympics and "breaking weather reports," both of which are equally entertaining in Iowa. It didn't seem as though conditions were ripe for tornados, but one was reported two miles away from a town near us. Seeing as there was still plenty of daylight, I ventured outside to have a look-see. I grabbed the green lid off the kids' plastic turtle sandbox to use as a rain shield and walked to the gravel road. The sky didn't appear terribly threatening, but I was hoping to either spy a funnel cloud or make a lasting impression on a passerby. (again, both would be equally entertaining) I saw neither, for I was called in to join the rest of the family in the basement. :-( Our stay there was made more pleasant by the superb cleaning job accomplished by my niece at last month's reunion. (she is very sweet, unattached and you've already been apprised of her cleaning skills. Need I say more? Eligible bachelors will please send the standard bio with an 8x10 glossy and I'll get back to you)

We later heard of eyewitness accounts of as many as 6 or 7 tornados touching down briefly. And thanks to the miracle of the digital camera we saw pictures of a couple on TV. They were just small things, but not to be taken lightly, I suppose. (I guess)

_________________________________

46, going on 18
I grew up with a father who taught science in the public school system. His "real life," however, consisted of teaching Sunday School, writing a regular column in various Mennonite magazines, and fulfilling the occasional speaking engagement. Sometimes we children were allowed (dragged, kicking and screaming) to tag along. We'd sit in the pew and listen to Dad tell the same great jokes over and over and we'd make notes of audience reaction. I used to bring a few numerical aids with me; little signs with various scores in bold marker. If I held up 9.7, it would mean, "Super! Give 'em another anecdote!" Or, if 6.8 appeared, it might signify, "They're yawning. Wrap it up!" (ok, I just made up that last part)

Of course, there was always the risk that we would hear ourselves named as part of a humorous illustration. I have a hazy recollection of my father mentioning a little girl writing on the bottom of his slippers with red colored pencil. Something about "stinky feet," I believe. But it was all so long ago, and I don't remember much, other than the fact that it was the Sunnyside Mennonite church, we were 4 rows from the back, and it was just my next oldest brother and I. (he was on my right, but, like I said, I don't remember much) I DO remember people turning around and smiling knowingly at me.

Well, Dad, this is where we employ a little literary technique I like to call, "Divinely Inspired Familial Poetic and Retributional Justice." (DIFPaRJ)

I received a called from my Dad yesterday. He and Mom check in every week or so to see how we're doing. ("What do you mean by 'pretty good,' that doesn't sound all that great to me. What's wrong?" ) He expressed some concern about the planned trip to take Sharon back to Grace College on Friday. This would necessitate making the return 8 hour trip all by my (gasp) lil' ol' self. Alternatives were mentioned, such as flying Sharon and shipping her stuff.

I think I'll be fine. I will have my little crutches along: my diet cherry cokes, my Dove's dark chocolates, the radio. What's more, I can listen to ANYTHING I want to on the way back, for there will be no impressionable young college student along to, um, impress. No, as long as I don't stop at any Goodwill stores along the way, I should be home well before dark, Saturday evening. I guess when you grow up the baby of the family, you're always looked upon as the youngest child. In other words, you're never too old to be too little.

(I love you, Dad. It'll be alright.)

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Quick Reunion

As I retired upstairs last evening, the older children were still watching the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. Then, Sharon reminded me that she and Jason had planned to watch a DVD. It sounded like a late night, but after all, it was Friday, and she would be returning to college soon. Might as well let them have a little fun.

As I stumbled downstairs in my sweats at 7:00 this morning, my gaze was drawn to the living room, where two bodies were sacked out on two different couches. "Those bums" I thought. "Too tired and lazy to go up to their bedrooms after the movie? Brother!" Except, it didn't quite look like Sharon and Jason. Suddenly, a head pops up. It is Ardith! And there is her roommate, Heather! They had driven 14 hours to visit for 2 days. I was stunned. Hugs all around. Joyous disbelief. I let them go back to their snoozing, while I went on my walk, grinning all the way around the mile.

We celebrated Loren's 53 birthday today with grilled burgers and three, count 'em. THREE GREEN TOMATO PIES. That's one for Loren, one for the kids, and one for Heather. (just kidding :-) I almost made her take some of the three bean salad, but since she had brought my daughter home, I let her off the hook. (it's hard to be stern with someone who claims to be your 11th child)

Apparently, Loren was the only one up Ioway "in the know" concerning this surprise visit. It is all starting to make sense now; certain people posting certain comments, the birthday suddenly postponed one day. And the latter brings to mind a confession on my part. I was getting a little disgruntled about some matters. The last straw was when Loren suggested I make 4, instead of the usual 2 pies. Ohhhh, the rebellious thoughts that started fermenting over the injustice of it all. Here I was, making his favorite pies, from scratch, mind you, and he has the nerve to ask for more. I don't remember quite everything I was thinking, but the phrase "ungrateful wretch" comes to mind. But you can't stay mad at a heart patient very long. (well, at least nice people don't) So, I determined to make those pies, but it was only gonna be three, since that was the extent of my pie pan inventory. Well, it all worked out in the end, and, I say, "Let's let bygones be bygones," "Let sleeping dogs lie," and, "Can't we all just get along?"

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:-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)

Ardith and Heather came home for a surprise visit!! (more details later. maybe :-)

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Rat Poison and the Rug Rat

Bet you didn't know that many heart patients take rat poison. Well, the pharmaceutical name is called Coumadin, or Wayfarin, but basically it is rat poison. When one is taking this drug, it has to be kept within certain parameters. The level of drug in the blood is measured by a simple blood test, a protime, for short. In essence, the test measures how quickly the blood clots. Too fast, and one could develop an embolism, leading to a stroke or heart attack. If the blood coagulates too slowly, there is the danger of internal hemorrhage, especially in the event of a fall. (so now you know, when you give rat poison to a rat, you're basically causing it to bleed to death. Which doesn't bother ME, having no affinity for rats, but, that is another story)

The docs at Mayo want Loren's protime to be kept between 2 and 2.5 seconds. Today's test was 2.2, which is perfect. When things are steady, the test only has to be done every month or so. When the count is above or below normal, it can be ordered as often as every 3 or 4 days. And if one is unlucky enough to land that particular lab tech who likes to wiggle the needle around AFTER it is in the vein, well, you can imagine why Loren groans at the thought. When he discovered a lab within 25 miles that did a finger prick test, the experience became much less formidable.

Loren has been on Coumadin ever since he was released from the hospital 9 and a half years ago, owing to his constant state of atrial fibrillation. (ineffective pumping in these chambers could cause pooling and possible clotting of blood) When he gets his heart transplant, this anti-coagulant will be discontinued, and all of his current heart medications will be replaced by a new regimen of anti-rejection drugs. But that, too, is another story.

Now, to something completely different. Not long ago, I was outdoors, mowing. Ordinarily, I enjoy mowing, especially if I am not pressed for time, and it is not September when I am just SICK TO DEATH of mowing. But this was a gorgeous day and the newly cut grass was giving off that delicious smell which only it can produce. I noticed two year old Trevor, twenty yards off and standing stock still, carefully watching all that transpired. "Ah, " I thought to myself, "he is watching his Mummy mow the lawn. What a sweet little babe! I love that boy!"

The combination of mother-love and tremendous role-model responsibility swept over me, until I saw that he was holding his nose. Yes, he definitely had his right thumb and forefinger clamped firmly over his nose. The only thing moving was his little neck turning as I went past. "How could this be?" I thought, "My own flesh and blood, casting aspersions upon my mowing technique?" (For you see, to some, mowing is just cutting the grass. But to me, it is a work of art.)

It was not long, however, before I discovered the breeze was from a different direction that day. Trevor didn't think my mowing stank, we were just downwind from the hog lot. And that is good, for now he is back in the will.

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Old Lady Daydreams

Now that the initial trauma of starting up the blog has diffused, let me relate an incident that occurred seven days ago:

It is Thursday, The Big Shopping Day, in The Big City. Twice yearly, Ma Hoyt and whatever older girls are in residence take an entire day to visit various Goodwill stores and a particular resale shop we hold dear. Naturally, as the day progresses, we find we are in need of a little sustenance, so we are forced to make a stop at Arby's. And, once a year, we stop at the mall (yes, Iowa has malls) so that I can buy a decent pair of tennis shoes. (the value of which I discovered during my 8th pregnancy)

We call home from Arby's to let "the guys" know we are just having lunch, and might be running a little late. It is 3:30. Jason, in his usual sparkling phone manner responds, "Ohhh-kay."

Finally, we hit the mall and I acquire the long awaited footwear. Ahhh, it is time to find a bench, lace up my new tennies, and put my feet up. Sharon is off to Penny's for some obscure item, and Kendra is riding the escalators, pretending to windowshop, but in truth, she is joyriding the escalators. (we live a sheltered life) And I'm just sittin' and chillin'; a New Balance Babe, resting her gams.

Suddenly, my reverie is broken by a man shouting, "HEY!, HEY!" (sound of running) I glance up to see a young male tearing around the corner and dashing past the atrium and down the hall to the exit. Oh yes, he had two large shopping bags clutched in his left hand. (did I mention he was running very fast?) The adrenaline is pumping, my heart is pounding, and I'm thinking, "IDIOT! Why didn't you jump up and give chase?" It would have been the opportune time to yell something I've always longed to yell, "FREEZE! POLICE!" (Actually, there was a guy standing much closer, half my age, who, if he had just turned around and taken a few steps, could have nabbed the thief) Well, the security guards soon came by and questioned the victim of the theft. These guards didn't seem to be moving particularly fast, but they did have exceptional walkie-talkie skills. (now, if I had been in uniform, I would have questioned some of the bystanders)

It was hard not to think of what might have been:
DATELINE: Des Moines Register
"45 Year Old Woman Stops Thief" or,
"Soon To Be 46 Year Old Woman With Varicose Veins Trips Up Thief" OR,
"Mother of 10 in New Balance Tennis Shoes Runs Down Thief. DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?"

(on the spot reporter) "Tell us, Ma Hoyt, how is it that a woman of your, er, maturity could stop a young fellow in the prime of his life?"
"Well, I owe it all to my New Balance tennis shoes and walking 4 miles a day. Oh yeah, I eat a lot of chocolate. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my husband, Loren, my oldest daughter, Ar...."
"Ok folks, that's all we have time for.....(blah, blah, blah)"

Yep, there could have been fame and glory, not to mention major athletic endorsements.

But, on the other hand, this could have been part of a gang initiation rite. (yes, there are gangs in some of the larger Iowa cities) A few of the "brothers" might have decided a little retribution was in order. Well, it is over and done with. BUT, if a similar scenario ever presents itself again, I will be ready!
"AAaaaiiiiiii-YAH!" ("uh, could somebody help me up?.....")

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Two New Owlets on a Chilly Day

Two more kids joined the bespectacled ranks today. Carolyn (9) and Melinda (11) received their very first pairs of eyeglasses, while Derek (13) got a change in his prescription. They all look suitably wise and mature now. The girls were somewhat hesitant about how this would change their glamorous personas, until I took off mine and they saw how "weird" I looked without them. And then, there were the excited exclamations on the way home, "Look, I can see birds flying up in the sky!" "Hey, the trees all have individual leaves!" There were more discoveries concerning the textures and properties of clouds, "No, not the CUMULUS clouds, I said look at the CIRRUS clouds! I can SEE them now!"

I think they will actually be happy to show off their new specs at prayer meeting tonight. Sharon has been driving them in on Wednesdays, and once she returns to college, they will all stay at home with Loren, the little boys and I. Ethan (7) has, in the past, been torn between going to church or "staying home with the little kids," where their spirituality is challenged by Veggie Tales videos. But ever since older brother Jason has been regaling the crew with a serialized story, the ride home is worth the effort of sitting still during church. Something about the earth heating up, and aliens, and........I may have to check into this.

Speaking of odd, it's August, and the furnace has kicked on. Even for Iowa, that is a tad strange. I arose this morning to find a distinct chill in the air and no sweatshirt in sight. No matter, I was tough and would go out walking in the usual summer attire. Besides, the headphones on the transistor walkman would keep my ears warm, and if I just kept moving..... The weatherman said the windchill (excuse me, did he say windchill?) was 39 degrees. Well, I guess that would explain the numbness in my arms and legs. The good part is: I got around in less than an hour, almost record time.

Here is something that will stir a fire in one on a cold day. Just click on "Nessun Dorma " to hear my favorite opera aria.

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Mayo Report

Loren saw the nurse-practitioner who specializes in heart failure patients this morning. (she is quite knowledgeable and is a good sub for the cardiologist) In general, he has been feeling some better these past two or three weeks, and the labs and tests correspond with this assessment. Actually, a better way of putting it might be to say that he has not felt as terrible as sometimes. We are told these ups and downs are par for the course in this situation. He still needs a transplant, but it is nice to have a couple of bearable weeks.

We found out a little more as to his status on the transplant list. I have referred in the past to an "A" and "B" list. The more correct way to designate would be with three categories: 1a, 1b, and 2. Loren is a "2," which means he is being treated with oral medication only. People on the "2" list have a fairly long wait, 2-5 years, and often aren't transplanted until being moved up in status. Those on "1b," have one IV drip for heart failure. While initially hospitalized with start of IV, they usually return home to wait and are often transplanted within a year. The extremely critical patients are classified 1a, hospitalized with multiple IV's, sometimes with a vent, balloon pump, etc.

Mayo shares organs with two other facilities. When a donor organ becomes available, they check through all three hospitals' lists, starting with the 1a's and moving down, looking for a match in size, tissue and blood type, etc. Obviously, the 1a's and 1b's are going to be transplanted first, as they should be. If Loren had felt today as badly as he had two months ago, he would have been "strongly encouraged" to take the next step up, to 1b. But that will be delayed at present. It is a bit of a delicate matter. One doesn't want to rush into something, but the situation should not be allowed to deteriorate to the point of jeopardizing a good outcome for the operation. We've been told it is usually readily apparent when a bump up in status is needed. We shall simply have to trust in God's timing and that we will be aware enough to follow His lead.

Enough medical stuff! A person can only stand so much sometimes.

I was able to get in my walk around the mile after returning home today. I have noticed a V of geese now and again, flying low over the fields, heading south or southwest. I was reminded of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, where she described their haunting call. It made me want to walk just a little faster. It conjured up some indefinable yearning, deep inside. It caused me to remember I hadn't had breakfast yet. Okay, but I STILL felt a certain kinship with Laura, until I realized I had been walking around in circles (well, squares) all summer, just to get exercise. But, if one ignores all the differences, such as widespread land developement, technological advances, and the fact that I wear pants most of the time, there must be SOMETHING we have in common........the call of the wild honkers, I guess. (Now, let's not be flying directly overhead, fellas)

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Off to Mayo

Loren and I will be heading up to Mayo later this afternoon. Bloodwork starts at 7:00am tomorrow, so we will grab our usual digs at "El Cheapo Roomero." It's the difference between sleeping in until 5:30am, or dragging unwilling bodies out of bed at 3 or 3:30am and driving up the same morning. Yes, I think we will go up today.

This is a follow-up with one of the transplant cardiologists that Loren has been seeing in recent weeks. They are trying to find the right balance between fluid and sodium intake, and blood pressure and exercise, etc. to help Loren maintain some relative comfort during this waiting period.

Speaking of exercise, as I arose to take my daily 4 mile walk this morning, I had to face the awful fact that I STILL had "onion breath" from the cucumber salad* last night. There seemed no other alternative but to partake of a Dove's chocolate or two. It didn't help, but it was fun trying.

Time to bond with the little kids and Big Bird.

*Sour Cream Cucumbers: 2 medium cukes, thinly sliced
1 small onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup sour cream
1 T. Vinegar
1 t. sugar
1/2 t. salt (makes 3-4 cups)

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A Typical Sunday

Trevor and Nolan were especially squirrelly in church this morning. But when you are 2 and 5 respectively, it's just part of the job description.

As Pastor John started his sermon introduction, I gathered a few feeble remnants of concentration and determined to remember the main points, at least. (I haven't been able to take my Bible or notepad to church since the first child arrived. Yes, Ardith, this is where you are stricken NUMB with guilt and remorse) Thankfully, Trevor is quite fond of his older brother, Jason (16) and toddled down the row to sit with him.

From Nehemiah: 1) pray (ok, I think I can remember that)

It was about this point that Nolan became fixated on his nose. I mumbled the usual bit about, "Uh, it's not nice to pick your nose in public." He continued, becoming more and more frantic in his efforts, as I gathered him close and tried to shield him from the row in back of us. "Um, Nolan, uh...." He was close to tears and I mentally rummaged through my cluttered purse to find the last lint-covered Kleenex somewhere at the bottom...
Suddenly, out popped a small, green plastic ball, the size of a pea. (ah, yes, now I remember granting him permission to take that to church.....it seemed harmless at the time) Well, THAT was a relief. He needed some soothing, but he learned a valuable lesson in nose capacity.

2) protect the work of the Lord ("ok, Pray, Protect. Pray, Protect. I can do this")

It was about this time that Trevor became most annoying, fussing and pointing insistently toward the back doors of the auditorium. Well, we went out all right, it just didn't turn out to be the merry frolic through the nursery toys he had hoped for. We returned shortly, with the naughty boy subdued, docile and soon falling asleep in my lap.

3) proceed with the work of the Lord (oh good, I didn't miss the last point) AMEN (sigh)

Some day, I will be able to drink in the teaching of God's Word without interruptions.
And, SOME DAY, I won't have to worry about taking my Bible along, for I will be in the very presence of the WORD Himself.

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Who would have thought?

Who would have thought, that in the space of a few years, a confirmed despiser of computers would have her own blog?

This is not just "my" blog. This is a format by which family and friends may keep updated on the status of Loren's health, the progress toward heart transplant, the life-changing operation and the recovery period. From time to time, other issues may arise, such as my bid for public office, or my thoughts on various aspects of life in general.

I had thought in the past that the creation of a blog could be considered narcissistic by some. However, after gazing thoughtfully into the tiny mirror on my compact case the other day I decided, "NAH."

Please be patient. I have much to learn in the art of posting, providing links to helpful articles and such. Everyone has to start somewhere.....

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