Clearly, I Have Been Preoccupied For a While...

...yep, been a while.

*cough*

So, a bunch of changes went down since my last writing...in April...anyways.

1) We bought a house!

My husband and I rapidly outgrew our apartment, so we went on the hunt for a larger one we could rent, preferably one that'd be big enough to support us starting our family in the next year or two.  Well, we live(d) in a college town, and the cost of apartments in the small city just down the street was...unreasonable, to say the very least.  On a whim, we did some thinking, crunched some numbers, and hunted around until we found a 3 bedroom house we loved.  That was, oh, May.

We moved in on September 19th...if that doesn't tell you how drawn-out closing was.  It is very much a buyer's market in our area, meaning houses are for sale at fantastic prices, but all the real estate lawyers in our area are swamped.  There was a solid month of back-and-forth between the seller's attorney, our attorney, the mortgage people's attorneys--it was a blast.

... I'll pause the sarcasm here.

But we're finally in!  Painting isn't anywhere near done, which is stressing me out.  I'm doing what I can between all the other chaos.  We're still living more out of boxes than I'd care to admit thanks to a bathroom reno that had to be done while we moved in, my getting sick, and our other big change:

2) We adopted a kitten!

In the middle of July, an all-black, female kitten had been spotted running around Hubster's sister's yard.  She and my mother-in-law asked us if we'd take the female kitten, and we agreed.  In the meantime, however, my sister-in-law's neighbor's girls had adopted the kitten and named her Shadow.  We were bummed, but we let it go.  We couldn't keep a kitten at our apartment anyways and had yet to get our closing date, so we figured God was just telling us he had other plans.

Well, he did: Shadow had a brother, a tuxedo kitten, and he had set up home on my sister-in-law's porch.  Reportedly, my sister-in-law opened her back door, asked him what he wanted to do, and this kitten came rushing in and never left.  Hubster's sister called us, and we agreed to take him once we got into our house.  She agreed, in turn, to care for him until then.  Thanks to his hilarious mustache, she and her girls took to calling him Pablo Mustachio, a name that stuck.

Meet Pablo!

Our little Pablo is one of the sweetest cats we've met, and he's too cute for words.  His moustache becomes "milk dribbles" leading into his tuxedo chest piece, with a tiny tuft of black as a button in that area.  All of his whiskers are white, even the ones over his eyes, and he has a white tummy and four white socks/booties.  He's also got yellow/green/brown eyes that can't make up their mind as to what color they'll be.  (I call it pistachio green...pistachio...mustachio...*ahem*)  My favorite part?  One of his back "socks" has a black toe.

I mean, LOOK at that toe!

Pablo, as of this writing, is a little over 6 months old and 7 pounds.  We moved into our house on September 19th, and he came home the 21st.  Poor little guy then immediately chased that with a neutering on the 24th, where we learned he still had roundworms (we'd treated him for that in August after his pre-adoption check-up and first round of shots), that he had retained two top canine (fang) baby teeth, and that one of those was trying to become infected.  He came home from the vet on amoxicillin and on strict orders to rest: no running, no jumping, no climbing.

...yeah...about that.

For those who are unaware, keeping a 6-month-old kitten quiet, still, and resting is about as effective as telling a kindergartner after a heaping dose of Halloween candy that it's time for a nap, post-haste.  Nailing Jell-o to a wall is less of an exercise in futility.  He never blew an incision, though, so we call it good.  When Pablo hurt or got tired, he snuggled.  When he had the zoomies and just had to run, well, he ran.  A lot.  Sometimes into things.

It's readily apparent that he's going to be a very long, lanky cat when he's full grown.  He's growing like a weed and into everything we own.  We've decided to make him wear these vinyl nail caps to keep him from wrecking things.  Pablo's very good about seeking out his scratching lounger and scratching box when he feels the urge to scratch; he just forgets when he's playing or climbing that he packs 18 sharp claws between his four paws.  With the caps on, he still can do all the things he wants, but he doesn't inadvertently wreck our banisters, curtains, or hands.

Like I said--house is a work in progress. And he got himself up there without help.

We love the little hooligan, though, and feel blessed to be in a house we love and to finally have a cat again.  Both of us are huge cat people, so being pet-less drove us about nuts.  Expect him to feature here regularly as, as my friends and husband tell me, I was always a crazy cat lady: it's just official now.

#CrazyCatLadyStatusAchieved

Crackerjack: Yarn-Along #7

So, my crafting is pretty sporadic right now, mostly as Hubster and I are house-hunting!  For those who have been through it, you understand.  For those who haven't, just know it's an incredibly fun yet exhausting, stressful, and terrifying thing.  Most of our free-time lately has been spent on mortgage things, looking at houses online, touring houses, etc.

Regardless, I am sneaking in some crafting...

THE CRAFTS: I have been crocheting the same blankets...still...alongside cross-stitching.  I've also been working on that same infernal cardigan.  Can someone more experienced than I please explain to me why sweater sleeves are the black hole of knitting, the realm in which you can knit for hours and seemingly make absolutely no progress?  I just don't understand it.  The rounds are, what, 40-55 stitches around and regularly decreasing?  Logic would state they should work up quickly!  Yet, here I am three months later with not a single completed sleeve.

Anywho, I'll have more pictures of that thing on Wednesday as I have given myself a deadline.  I want to wear my cardigan to travel to NYACCE a week from today, so hopefully that gets my knitting butt in gear.

In the meantime, I picked up a "for the heck of it" knitting project to entertain myself this summer.  Those who see me on a regular basis know I'm a bit of a rabid Phillies fan, having been born and raised partially in south-eastern Pennsylvania.  Those who know anything about baseball know that the Philles are an incredibly lack-luster team as of late (...and historically...).  To make this 2015 baseball season a bit more fun, I'm knitting a Crackerjack scarf in Phillies colors.

Pattern (as of April 19th)

The plan is this:  each two rows of colors denotes one specific game played.  At the end of the season, the provisional cast-on is undone so the ends can be Kitchener-stitched together to create an infinity scarf.  I'm contemplating also back-stitching in some light blue to denote series played and to keep the scarf flat, but we'll see if I'm that ambitious come October.  My color way goes as follows: red for home wins, white for home losses, blue for away wins, and grey for away losses.

My progress, 9 games in.

...As you can see, my boys have been ever-so-conscientious of my wardrobe, keeping my scarf in neutral colors...

Yes, this is how I'm making myself feel better about our 4-9 record...

Just let me have my delusion...

THE BOOK: I was working on MaddAddam by Margaret Atwood before Christmas, but I've not picked it up since then.  I just completely lost interest, for some reason.  Part of the problem was the audio book I downloaded on my Kindle from the local library was incredibly quiet.  Even cranking it and my car's stereo up to full blast, it was darn near impossible to hear Zeb's voice actor over even something as simple as a fan.  Perhaps sometime down the road, I'll listen to the rest of it via earphones.  Right now, it doesn't fit my schedule.

In the meantime, I'm listening to Brothers by Da Chen on my commutes and...I really don't know what I think of it just yet.  It's an...interesting...book.  Parts of it I love, but others just drive me batty.  I do agree with some of the critiques: it feels like the author just took in every historical fiction trope he could imagine.  In other places, the world he illustrates in his novel is fantastically real and inviting, as well as horrifying.  I keep flip-flopping about my feelings on it.  Considering I got this book-on-CD for $1 at my local library's book sale, I can't complain too much!

I also blasted out Call the Midwife a few weeks ago, after marathoning the entire collection of episodes on Netflix in the course of a week.  That book, I adored.  I'm fascinated by the medical field--though too squeamish to have ever seriously considered a profession in that field--and love first-hand accounts of life in historical eras, so this book truly sparked my fancy.

Check out the other Yarn Along pages!

I Live!

I promise, readers, that I have not fallen off the face of the earth!  I chased my surgery with a bad cold, my mom's cat getting super sick, another infection, my husband getting super-sick, then with what proved to be one of the worst colds I've ever had.  It started in my throat, moved to my chest, went back into my throat, attacked my sinuses, and finally started to die in my ears.  Over a week later, I'm finally feeling some human.

What does that mean?  Hopefully, more regularly-posted things here!  I've a ton of knitting and crocheting (and cross-stitching!) posts I'm delayed on, as well as some other commentary-like pieces I've had stewing around my brain-meats.  My goal is to take some time this week and next to write them up and queue them so that they're ready to be posted on a schedule.  What will that schedule be?

...good question...

I'm waiting to commit until I see exactly how hectic my schedule becomes in the next few weeks.  (Also, say some prayers for me in the meantime in that regard.)  So, this should be a fun few days/weeks to see how things go!

Bouncy Kitty

Well, I am pleased to report that Milo is bouncing back and should be home on Wednesday!  He had a setback on Sunday when he yanked out his urinary catheter.  Honestly, I can't say I blame him.  The family and I are getting a great laugh out of that as, honestly, it's characteristic of Milo.  I can just imagine what was going through his head:

Milo: HEY!  Weird-People-in-Weird-Place!  I want attention!  Come PLAY with ME!  Bring Momma and Jordan!  ...what, no playing?  Well, I'll get your attention now! Bye-bye, Mr. Tube! *yank*

All jokes aside, we'll just be happy to have him home!

Strange Request

If anyone is reading this, please say a prayer for my mom's cat, Milo.  He started acting weird Thursday, got much sicker Friday, and was rushed by my family to the vet early Saturday morning.  He has a urinary blockage of some type, and it's too early to tell what kind of blockage it is or what his long-term prognosis will be.  It's very likely his treatment will cure him, but the likelihood of this recurring many times in his life is contingent on what type of blockage he has and his own predisposition.  As he's a rescue, we have no idea what other male cats in his bloodline have had happen in this regard.  Treatment starts around $1,200 for urinary blockages, so repeat cases of this will eventually become too costly for my family to afford.

He's currently at one of the best veterinary clinics in our area undergoing treatment and possible surgery, though we've yet at the time of this posting to hear anything on how he's doing.  The vet was optimistic that he'll pull through and be perfectly fine (though on a modified diet the rest of his life) after this.  My parents and youngest brother caught Milo's symptoms in the earliest stages, praise God, so that improves his outlook significantly.  The vet had to warn us all, though, that some cats become very prone to these life-threatening blockages and, as a result, have to be put down.  Milo, most likely, isn't one of these cats, but it's too soon to tell.  He's just shy of 5 years old and has never been sick prior to this; we're hoping that means it's just a freak thing that happened the poor little guy.

We all love this cat like a family member; my brothers and I affectionately call him our baby fur-brother for good reason.  The thought of him possibly having a chronic, painful, and possibly life-threatening condition for the rest of his life has us all in pretty bad mental states.  Most of us are remaining as positive as we can, hoping and praying this is just a one-time thing for Milo and that he'll prove to be as resilient and strong as he's always been throughout his life.

Milo came to us through an animal rescue that found him abandoned in a hot attic with no food or water.  He was reportedly in very bad shape when they found him, but he bounced back quickly and has been healthy and happy since.  Due to his tough start in life, he has some separation anxiety issues along with problems dealing with change.  He handles them well, all things considered--He quickly calms down when my mom or youngest brother are around, though he is quite skittish for a grown cat--but stress can exasperate his urinary condition.  We're all hoping he's so sedated at the vet's for the next few days that he can't get too anxious and worked up until he's well enough to come home to familiar people and surroundings.

So, if you're okay with it, remember a sweet, goofy cat in your thoughts and prayers over the next few days.  We just want him home, healthy, and safe.

One Organ Lighter

So, the partial silence on this blog has been because I've been laid up recovering from that much-needed gallbladder removal.  January 7th came and went very easily, thank God: believe it or not, I was at the hospital by 6 am and home before noon.  Three tiny incisions (one dead center of my abdomen a few inches below my breastbone, another probably 8 inches down and to the right, and a third on my right side a few inches below where my ribs end) and one much larger one (in my belly button up top) later, I'm a slowly-recovering human sans a malfunctioning organ.

(Let me just slip in here that it blows my mind that they can remove an organ through four small incisions.  The ones on my abdomen are just over a half inch long tops, with the highest one being the biggest and, I found out, the incision through which Adolf Gallbladder exited me.  The one in my belly button is an inch to an inch and a half long.  My dad had to have an open procedure, and his incision is positively massive.)

The past few days have been...interesting...

• January 7th: went into hospital, had gallbladder removed, came home.  Was able to eat for the first time in literally days, which I celebrated by eating (over the course of 24 hours) four small bowls of my momma's homemade chicken noodle soup and crackers.  (This, in hindsight, was a great thing and a terrible thing all at the same time.)  Slept a ton, paced a lot, learned that getting up from laying down blows and that I had an incision on my right side I couldn't see past my boob.  (The moment of discovery was, in retrospect, positively hilarious.  Imagine a petite 20-something woman trying to leap off her sore side from laying down, unable to do so, and having her mother help her up, all while she's babbling about discovering the mystery "missing" fourth incision and how they shouldn't have snuck a fourth in on her like that as she went into surgery willingly...I was on painkillers, ok?)  I also learned that hiccuping and sneezing are the absolute worst thing to do right now.  Painkillers from hospital controlled pain well.  Momma went home that night; Hubby called off work for the next day as a precaution.  I also learned that gas pains settling where my gallbladder was removed was, bar none, the worst pain of my entire life, and I had shingles once.  I literally cried and scared my poor husband about to death.


• January 8th: Oh my word, did this day ever blow.  I woke up with one of the worst sinus headaches of my life, dizzy, lightheaded, and incredibly nauseous.  Whatever motion sick patch they put on me at the hospital before surgery abruptly quit working sometime during the night (...and my body decided it was allergic to its glue, creating hives I just cleared up), and my body subsequently decided it hated the painkiller and wanted it deported from my body, either from me not eating enough when I took it or from just deciding to assert its new-found independence.  I don't remember much from this day that wasn't spent throwing up or trying NOT to throw up.  Once we forced crackers into me long enough to keep down Advil, I was okay.  It was a very long day for both of us.  Hubby called off the following day to be safe as I hadn't ate a thing past crackers and chicken broth in 24 hours; he was worried with how dizzy I was that I'd have trouble getting around the apartment alone.  The poor man, bless his soul, only left the apartment to pick up a casserole from my brother at his workplace while I was on the phone with my mom, pacing out gas pains, after both Momma and I encouraged him to go get it so I'd have food options available past soup.  Thank goodness I had eaten so well the day before, as we think that reserve is what kept me going most of Thursday when I couldn't even keep ice chips down.


• January 9th: WORLDS better today.  The soreness from surgery finally hit me full-force without painkillers in my system, making getting up to move around my apartment like I should a bit problematic.  Hubby, again, was an absolute God-send through this, helping me up when I needed it and making it so I only had to get up to walk, not to retrieve things (mostly as I was very unsteady on my feet--lightheadedness has been my chief complaint of recovery).  For some reason, my left eye (which has had a muscle imbalance my entire life) was absolutely refusing to focus on anything near my face, so I was unable to do most anything I enjoy (gaming, crocheting, knitting, reading); I settled for random shows on Netflix and Hulu as I could focus my eyes on our TV across the room.  I also started trying little eye exercises I recalled from my childhood to get my eye to work again with my prismatic glasses.  Slowly started eating real food again.  We also started being a bit concerned that the...end products...of digestion weren't happening.  The surgeon had warned us that my digestive system would probably launch all kinds of varying rebellions for a few days, so we gave my GI tract a deadline of afternoon the next day to get its (...literal...) shit together.


• January 10th: I started feeling well enough to be stir crazy, and Hubby really wanted to watch the NFL playoff games (we don't have cable), so we packed up to spend the day at his mom's and do our laundry there.  (We forgot the laundry...because we are just that skilled...)  I finally achieved the so-called end-product we were waiting on that morning, so I was finally starting to feel a lot more like myself.  I could eat pretty much anything I wanted, but my stomach really hurt if I ate more than 5-6 grams of fat in a single meal.  Came home unbelievably exhausted but relieved that I could do something, even if it was collapse on my mother-in-law's couch wearing pajama bottoms and a sports bra under a hoodie.  But gosh darn it all, people, I did my hair that day.  That was progress.  Oh!  I also got my left eye to finally start cooperating, so I spent some of my night playing Pokemon HeartGold on my Nintendo DS.  I still wasn't mentally with it enough to try crafting, and I was too tired a lot of my waking time to focus on a book, so I avoid all of those.


• January 11th: My body decided to raise a mini-Hell over my deciding to eat real food the day before; I spent most of this day near a bathroom or wondering if I should move near one.  I was super light-headed if I got up for too long, and the incision in my bellybutton started itching and stinging a ton.  Spent the day on the couch alternating ice and heat on my bellybutton incision and napping as needed.  I discovered some cool Youtubers in my boredom, played a ton of Pokemon, and overall was just bored, bored, bored.


• January 12th: Lightheadedness finally started evaporating when I realized that it kicks in if I get too hungry; for some reason, my body gets lightheaded about a half-hour before I feel hungry.  Started eating small meals every few hours to keep this at bay.  Felt brave enough to cook dinner, empty our dishwasher, and reload it.  I also learned at dinner that I cannot eat a regular-sized meal unless I want to eat it sitting in my bathroom...it doesn't end well.  Bellybutton incision still raised a minor hell every time I laid down (felt like it was being pulled apart); mirrors and a loving Hubby confirmed it wasn't infected, so we didn't think much about it.  Lightheadedness, though diminishing, still persisted while I was up on feet for too long.


• January 13th: HUGE chunk of the dermabond gluing my bellybutton incision shut popped off early in the morning; clearly that was the issue behind all the pulling-stabbing-stinging pain.  Incision still looks fantastic, so woo!  Still getting super lightheaded, dizzy, or unsteady when walking around the apartment for too long, though I did manage to make dinner, unload the dishwasher, and reload it with a few sitting breaks nestled into that plan.

And that leads us up to more recent history.  I'm clear to return to work next week, which is two work days later than I originally wanted.  The night of the 14th, I talked Hubby into letting me drive us to our local Tops and get groceries.  He agreed.  We got my car scraped out of the snow, defrosted, and out of the driveway.  I drove us to Tops with no problems sans some bellybutton/belly discomfort from the seatbelt, even through my winter coat.  I got us into Tops, got a cart (figuring I could lean on it if I needed to), and into the store we went full of hopes and goals.

Ladies and gents, I didn't make it out of produce before I wanted to pass out, and that's literally the first section you enter in our local Tops.  I never fainted, passed out, or the like, but I was very unsteady on my feet and visibly worn out.  I nearly collapsed into the driver's seat of Tony the Super Impala while Hubby returned our cart, my head hung in exhaustion while I willed up the power to drive us the 10 minute or less drive home.  We got the groceries into the apartment and put away, and I proceeded to collapse onto the couch in a heap of sadness and exhaustion.  From the time we left the apartment to the time we got home, we were gone exactly an hour and a half, and that 90 minute journey kicked my butt.  My stomach throbbed.  My head spun.  Just, nope.

So, unhappily, we agreed with the surgeon at my first follow-up the next morning that I had no business driving an hour round-trip to and from work and working seven hours (most of which probably on my feet) when I could barely walk around a store without it metaphorically spinning around me.  My surgeon had initially wanted me off work two full weeks, so she was happy to "split the difference" with me on this one; I initially wanted to be back exactly a week after surgery, but it'll be closer to a week and a half when I go back.  I called work, had the surgeon's PA fax the appropriate work release notice saying I was cleared no sooner than the week of the 19th, and I went home to collapse on my couch.

For whatever reason, my body either really sucks at clearing anesthesia from my system (as I had a similar issue when I had a diagnostic laparoscopy in 2013--I nearly passed out at a work fundraiser four days after it and was a wobbly mess most of the following week at work) or it goes into shut down mode after surgery.  I'm a bit infamous in my family, in my circle of friends, and at work for driving myself to the near-breaking point out of altruism and sheer stubbornness, so my theory is my body knows the only way it's going to get me to actually rest is if it full-on demands it.  It makes me too weak to do anything but rest until it is truly strong enough to do what I throw at it.

As of today, I'm 10 days post-op and finally starting to feel more like myself.  I have an area over my belly button that's swollen, tender, and finicky still, but the swelling is finally starting to go down.  On doctor's orders, I'm keeping my trusty rice bag on it heated whenever I think of it, and that seems to be doing the trick.  Over 95% of the Dermabond has fallen off by now, and I am slowly looking less like I put up a good battle in a knife fight.  One incision kind of looks like a butt, though...which is weird to me.  My belly button one also stings a ton the longer I'm up and moving, probably because its positioning in my belly button means it gets bonked and rubbed a ton.  Overall, I'm at that point in incision healing where they freaking itch.  The one on my right side is particularly brutal with this, especially as I usually sleep on that side.  I also often forget where exactly that stupid thing is, so I catch myself scratching it...wwhheenn I hit it and send myself into a fit of owing over the pain.  I also have some minor swelling in my lower right ribs and find that my digestion is a bit finickier than I'd like.

Despite all of this, I feel better than I have in literally years.  The pain in my ribs is finally, finally gone.  I can eat most anything I want (within reason) without huge worry or pain.  The heartburn that plagued me for months is gone, and if it does return (say, I eat something fattier than I should have eaten), two Tums soothes it away easily.  I'm still taking ibuprofen daily, but it's mostly a precautionary messure to keep the post-op swelling down and to soothe the stinging in my incisions so I don't scratch them.  If I could get my energy levels to stabilize, I'd be fantastic!

The Last Stand

Last week, physically, blew.  It totally, completely, sucked.  My gallbladder has apparently launched a last, vicious battle against me in the form of what I'm calling mini gallbladder attacks.  Basically, when I eat, I get some (or all) of the following symptoms.

• Moderate to severe abdominal pain (usually upper right)
• Moderate to moderately severe nausea; often spikes the next morning when I wake
• Moderate abdominal bloating
• Pressure under the right side of my ribs
• Feeling of something getting caught under my right ribs when I move
• Stabbing/burning pain under the right side of my ribs
• Diarrhea OR constipation (absolutely no pattern, rhyme, or reason for this one when they happen or which happens)
• Heartburn

I call them mini attacks as they aren't as severe as any gallbladder attack I can recall having; in retrospect, I had two that took me to my knees and absolutely incapacitated me for a day or two.  I literally could not eat a thing without nearly throwing up until it passed.  Though I'm not near that level, I'm having a rough go this week and last.

Basically, I'm eating a ton of plain rice (sometimes with a splash of vinegar on it for flavor), whatever steamed vegetables I have on hand that stay down, chicken or other white meats (all fat hacked off), and various fruit smoothies I can make from things in my freezer.  Hubster and I received a Ninja blender for Christmas that has absolutely been my BFF.  Almond milk is staying in me well, so I make whatever smoothies I can think of with it and fruits to supplement larger meals.  Any big meal I eat, I do so only at home where I am near a bathroom.

To complicate issues, I also got my period just in time for surgery.  It also decided to come with every horrific symptom it could bring with it, just for kicks and giggles.  Since surgery is in two days, I can't take anything but Tylenol for pain.  It's taking the edge off, but not very much.  I didn't sleep at all last night with the pain, though I did sleep a few hours this evening.  I'll be far enough along with Aunt Flo to barely notice it by Wednesday, thankfully, but it made this past weekend doubly hard to handle.

The hardest thing has been stepping back and accepting that I cannot do everything I normally do anymore.  I just don't have the physical ability to do so.