Nurses Are Awesome

About 100 years ago, my aunt Lorraine would take we girls to Hawaii every summer.  One year,we were on the Big Island, I think on the Kona side, and we found a restaurant we loved.  Now, granted, there was Auntie with three comely young ladies, and that habitually got us fine service, but at this particular establishment, the service was impeccable.
While I may have  forgotten the name of the place, I will never forget the entire experience of dining there.  I've been feeling the same appreciation for the nursing staff of the 4th floor here at Banner Baywood.

I'm a good patient when it comes to compliance, but I acknowledge that when it comes to complaining about things like pain, or any kind of discomfort, I suck.  I was not reared to complain...ever, and so when I'm asked if I'm in pain, I will invariably tell you 'no.'  And this can kill you.  Pain usually happens to warn you of something, but I have been attributing pain of late to being an expected consequence of chemotherapy, and just dealing with it.

Now, with the blood clots it's become very apparent that I *must* learn to tell my doctors about pain and anything else I can perceive as being beyond the norm.

So it seems that I will be here until Tuesday.  There was some discussion among my docs of implanting a filter to keep any more Pulmonary Embolisms from occurring, but instead, I may end up on blood thinners long-term.

I Miss You, Papa

That's my mom, Ruth and my dad, Jerry.  Mom's got her granddaughter Cee, and her own daughter Jane, and Daddy's got his grandson Bobby, and ME!  Look at that gleeful smile on my face; I loved my pop so much.


Daddy was born in 1906, in Los Angeles, California, a member of a very old Spanish Californiano family.  He was 34 when he married my mom, who was 18 at the time.  It seems strange, but it worked out well for all of us, even with that 16 year age difference.  I think it took Daddy many years of sowing those 'oats' to know when it was time to settle down.  He told me once that he'd better be the first to go, because he knew he could never live without my mom.

Here's a picture I think we took  before I moved out here to Arizona in 1985.  From Left to Right:  Cecilia Charlotte, Auntie leaning on ME, Pico, Jane, my oldest brother, Pete, then Daddy, who's corralling Wendy.  Jerry Edward, Mom and Sam (actually Martha Lorraine) round out this gang.  I'm cracking up because Dad's wearing a hockey T-shirt.  Dad didn't know hockey from Jai Alai.  I'm guessing he got that shirt from Nancy. :D


Dad died in November of 1991 at the ripe old age of 85.  I truly believe his children, and being involved in our lives are what kept him going.  Daddy was 52 when I was born; Jane came when he was 57, and Wendy arrived right after Dad's 60th birthday.  Most of our siblings were already off raising their own families, hence the top picture wherein Mom has a granddaughter and a daughter of the same age. :D  And they all did it again when Wendy was born.  


So, Daddy did get his wish and left the earth before Mom.  But Mom also made it, sixteen years later, to 85.  


I love you both, and miss you terribly, and Auntie, too.