“Somebody Get Me a Doctor!” ~ Van Halen

So, GOOOOOOOODNESS!! This has been a month from hell and I’ve missed my peeps! Believe you me (what does that even mean? 🤔), I would much rather have been blogging than what was going on. Actually, I would have much preferred a root canal everyday for a month than what was actually going on. In fact, I would have taken the option of walking on hot coals every hour for a month. Get my point?

Anyhoot, here’s the whole kit-n-kaboodle for your reading pleasure. If you’re eating right now, please stop. This gets ugly.

Y’all know I was scheduled for a full hysterectomy on April 12 and I was a bit apprehensive. Little did I know it would be the easiest thing to happen to me in the course of a week!

The prior Friday (the 9th – ma’s birthday…she’s 99 but looks 75 😁), I woke up with a shooting pain in my side. No, it wasn’t Bill kicking me in bed…it was an actual pain. (Note…Bill can be a pain, but that’s more of a pain in the ass…not the side 😆). The previous day, I had run 7 miles and started feeling bad a couple hours later but figured a good night sleep would cure all. I was wrong! So, I headed over to the ER (by myself…Bill doesn’t drive and I didn’t want to bother ma in case it was just gas). I toddle in and tell the ER triage nurse the pain and she puts me in a room…not looking too worried. An adorable doc finally comes in and asks if I have my appendix. I assure him I don’t. So, he decided to do some CAT scans to see what the hell was going on and lo and behold…

This is not mine…Doc wouldn’t let me see it!

I had 4 kidney stones that broke loose! Isn’t that the most beautiful thing to visualize? Anyhoot, he called in an urologist who looked young enough to be my son…I wanted to tell him not to slouch and to call his mother more…and he said I had a couple of these gems blocking my urethra…charmed I’m sure. He and the ER doc were quite impressed though…both had never seen 2 of the little boogers in a tube at once…I was a bit proud (one was 10mm and 5mm is considered large 🙄…as always, I’m an over-achiever).

I call Bill and he calls ma and she calls O (son) and he calls T (sissy) and she calls dad and the hotline had reached it’s peak while I was being prepped for surgery. Then, the following conversation ensued:

  • Doc: “What type of pain medication have you been using?”
  • Me: “None.”
  • Doc: “NONE?”
  • Me: “None.”
  • Doc: “But you have 4 kidney stones.”
  • Me: “OK.”
  • Doc: “I’ve had 250 pound men writhing on the floor in pain and moaning with 1.”
  • Me: “OK.”
  • Doc: “You’re a pretty tough gal.”
  • Me: “Doc…I have fucking bi-polar. This is nothing compared to that. Now, scrub up and let’s get this over with…90 Day Fiancé is on at 7.”
Courtesy of the
Persimmon Group

Bill was there when I wake up in recovery and I got home a couple of hours later. And…yes, in case you are wondering, I was in plenty of time for my show (to my 90 Day fans: isn’t Andrew a piece of crap??)

THEN, I call my gyno (who is an absolute doll..she’s just the best!) and she said I can still go through with the Big H on Monday if I want too…I did. Let’s just get everything over with at once. *NOTE to Dr. L: please re-read that sentence. And, on a separate note, you haven’t billed me yet.

I drove me and ma to the hospital 45 minutes away (I may be tough…but not tough enough to endure ma’s driving) and I hadn’t eaten or drank anything after midnight. My surgery was at 1…I was done at 3:30…I woke up a while later…and was in recovery for a couple hours. By the time I got to my room at 6, I was FAMISHED. So, I got 4 saltine crackers and water. BUT, I got some heavy duty pain meds and didn’t mind too much. However, when I awoke the next morning (after being awakened every hour all through the night 🙄), I noticed 2 things: I was peeing in a bag and I was beyond famished. WAY beyond. To make a long story longer shorter, I didn’t eat until after 11 and have never been more grouchy in my entire life. AND that my dear peeps, is saying a lot (hush up, O…don’t argue with your mother 🤨).

So, this should be where I say: I was discharged and healed happily ever after…right? I wish! The next morning, I couldn’t pee in my bag. My ‘leg’ bag that showed my pee to all my family and my lucky neighbors who happened to watch me either through my windows (we all have large ones and ‘keep our eyes on one another’) or while I was letting out Edward. Me, being the medical scholar that I am (I have the WebMD app), thought: “If I drink a whole lot of water, it will force my pee out.” Didn’t happen. All that did was make me feel like my bladder was bursting…because in actuality, my bladder was getting ready to burst.

From Sister Talk on Spotify

Now T and I have a special ‘sister code’ that we use for one another that no outsider can probably understand. I texted her these secret numbers: 911. That means to call me back because it’s an emergency: either I’m on the verge of death, Ulta is having a sale, or I want to gossip about ma 😳). T’s an LPN and she rushed over…calling the doc on the way. We boogied to Springfield (again), and I was in so much pain! We darted in the center and the receptionist held up a finger while she finished typing something that was apparently more urgent than my bladder. My sissy is the best though: she whoosked me in the office where Dr. L was ready and I stripped while fumbling down the hall…yes…everyone there has now seen my ass.

When I laid on the table, T gasped and said: “You look 9 months pregnant!” and I did! I was so full of pee! An hour and 3 assistants later, Dr. L had drained my bladder (now I only look 3 months pregnant) and I could breathe again. I was THISCLOSE to it tearing and had it done so, I probably would be talking to Freud in heaven and rubbing Dottie’s belly instead of writing my peeps.

Anyhoot, I have my last follow-up appointment today regarding my kidneys and then I’m done until my 6 week check-up at Dr. L’s. Three surgeries…5 days…and I have NOT received any flowers. Cough cough.

Yes, my fam has brought me groceries, presents, lunches, etc. but no flowers. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. But…I could have been a goner…just saying’ (1-800-FLOWERS is a great number to call, Bill 🤨).

So anyhoot, hopefully I’m done for a while now. As of now, I have no gall bladder, appendix, cervix, fallopian tubes, uterus, ovaries or kidney stones. As ma said yesterday, there’s not much else that can go wrong. Well, as fate would have it, she was incorrect. I just cut my bangs and they look like crap. Go figure.

Kristi xoxo

“Take me back to the good old days” ~ Tommy Collins

So, with Bill and I being in isolation because we have COVID, we’ve been watching a lot of true crime (very uplifting when you’re sick 🙄) and just finished ‘The Night Stalker’ (Richard Ramirez) on Netflix. As fascinating as it was regarding the investigation of this serial killer and how horrible we felt for all those he victimized, here’s what really got us: how old the film clips, tv’s, clothes, cars, etc. looked. When we started watching this, we both would have sworn that the time period being shown was the 60’s, but alas, we would have been wrong. It was the 80’s.

Courtesy of parade.com

Heh? The 80’s look OLD to us? Archaic? It was the 80’s…our era, baby! Just a few years ago…right? Well…no. I remember when I was growing up and grandma and grandpa would talk about the 40’s and 50’s and to me, it seemed like a life-time ago (and it was…literally…duh…🙄). Now that we’re in 2021 (the year in which I thought everything pertaining to the Jetson’s would be happening), the 80’s was a life-time ago; after all, my sonshine was born in 1993 and he’s 27. Damn!

So after the show ended, Bill and I started to play the ‘Did you ever imagine…’ game, and we realized how much the world has changed in the decades that followed the cool one we were teenagers in (OK, I was never cool…nerdy/homely would be a better descriptor for me 🤓). Here are some examples:

  • Didya ever think that we’d hold a phone in our hands…without cords…that had a MUCH bigger computer capacity than the combination of every single computer we ever used in high school had?
  • Didya ever think that you could ‘send’ a message to someone instantaneously?
  • Didya ever think the world would be connected and we could access that knowledge every single day without leaving home?
  • Didya ever think ‘books’ would be read electronically?
  • Didya ever think you’d be able to take a better pic through a PHONE than you did using the most expensive camera out there when you were a kid?
  • Didya ever think we’d have electric cars?
  • Didya ever think there would be a more graphically ‘real’ game than Pac-Man?
  • Didya ever think there would be something to ‘hold’ your music that was more compact than a Sony Walkman that used cassettes?
  • Didya ever think you wouldn’t be using VHS tapes someday?

And the list goes on and on.

My first camera! The film just popped in…what could be better than that?

Take cameras: my son is a professional photographer and he is a hybrid shooter in that he uses film and digital cameras. The first time he started shooting in film, he was so excited! You would have thought he discovered an ancient civilization that hadn’t been seen for eons. For the first few months, he would show me every single pic he took on film and he was just gob-smacked by how they looked…they were so ‘vintage’! And, every time he did this, I’d be giggling inside: “Sweetie…what the hell do you think ALL of your baby and childhood pics were taken with?? ”

And the computer stuff really does boggle my mind. I remember sitting in Mr. B’s computer classes in high school and trying to wrap my head around ‘Basic Programming’. In only 1 semester, I learned how to program a computer to scroll my name on the green and black screen! It was quite an accomplishment. Really. If you would have told me that computers would be the size of your palm someday…AND…we would carry them around in our pockets and be obsessed with them…I would have said you might be a tad delusional.

Courtesy of Reddit

When hubby 2 and I got our first ‘real’ desktop computer, we were a bit afraid of it, and after getting an AOL disc to use in it, we were petrified. The disc said we had like a zillion hours of ‘internet’ time and we couldn’t understand what the hell the internet was and why the hell we’d want ‘on it.’ We popped the disc in after O was in bed for the night…that way, if something horrible happened, he wouldn’t be a witness to it. A funny, screechy, dial-y sound (much like how my voice is described 😐 ) started and we thought the computer was blowing up. After about 5 minutes (SO FAST!), we were ‘online’ and had no idea what to do. Hubby started clicking around on things on the AOL homepage but we closed it out because there was nothing that interested us. Here’s what we said (word for word): “The internet is stupid…I’m never using it.” 🤨 I guess we were sorta wrong on that one.

Courtesy of Screen Rant

And movies? Good lord…I remember traipsing to the local ‘video store’ and checking out a VCR and a movie…this would cost about $40! BUT, since VCR’s were around $600-700 in the mid-80’s, this was a steal! My boyfriend and I’d lug this badboy home in the ‘suitcase’ it came in and then spend a grueling hour trying to figure out the fucking wires that needed to be connected while ma was shouting down the stairs: “Don’t mess up the damn TV!” After saying some not-so-nice things to each other during this fiasco, we’d finally get it hooked up, watch the movie (in our house…oooooo…😲) and then unhook it the next day to get it back before we got hit with astronomical fines. Tech at it’s best!

For my son, using Netflix and Hulu is nothing…he’s been doing it since he was a teen. He doesn’t remember a time when movies weren’t at our fingertips! I do though…and I’m still amazed that you can watch about anything you feel like with a few clicks. And I LOVE how you can stop watching something after a few minutes and go on to something else. When I would ‘rent’ VHS tapes, I’d watch the movie even if I hated it…I didn’t want to waste money by not watching it. BTW, I just got my first talking remote for my cable and using it amazes me…I don’t even have to change channels myself anymore!

And social media? I never dreamed…in a million years…that you’d be able to connect with anyone and everyone in the WHOLE world you wanted to with the ‘click of a mouse’. Further, who could ever have seen the effects of doing so? I’ve been off Facebook now for a few weeks and really don’t miss it at all…except for seeing what my sweetie students are up too. I certainly don’t miss the gossip, political fighting, high-school type antics among adults, etc. In fact, my stress level has decreased knowing I can just enjoy something without worrying about having to post it. It’s freeing! 😛 Plus, I just finished a quilt, have kicked ass on getting my classes set up, and am running 4-5 miles a day! Know what? That’s better than clicking on a thumb for hours at a time!

Anyhoot, how weird to think the era I grew up in was as many years ago as when my gramma would talk about the depression. It’s funny how time goes by so fast, but then you sort of get stuck in a time and it stays the same in your mind as if it were just a few days past. Sometimes I miss those good ole days when kids were out riding their bikes all over the city, and were playing tag at night under the street lights, and playgrounds were full and waiting for a swing was your biggest worry at the time. I feel like people were more connected back then…regardless of the social media and technology we have today. We called each other and yapped for hours on the phone. We had slumber parties and would stay up all night telling naughty stories and freezing each other’s bras. If you wanted to date someone, you had to ask them face-to-face…no swiping…and then you’d actually talk and do things together with no phones interrupting your time. You also didn’t have the pressure of ‘having’ to take photos to post to prove to others you were having fun with so and so. You didn’t have to worry about documenting everything…you just lived it and made the memories in your head where they aren’t judged. People felt better about themselves because you weren’t comparing yourself to others on social media and feeling less than because of everyone’s ‘perfect’ pics. If you had an issue with someone, you actually had to talk to them…not see it splattered across an open platform that everyone reads and can judge you by.

As much as it ages me, it’s like it was a more ‘innocent’ time…more laid back…more linked…united. I didn’t take pics of my son 100x every single day…film and developing were expensive! But when I did take pics, they were special and showed a time in his life that I really wanted to capture; then I’d mail copies to the grandparents for them to stick on the fridge. I didn’t force him to pose or stop playing with him to get yet another pic to post because it wasn’t about the pic…it was about us simply being together.

My life was my life…it wasn’t a life that was open for others to criticize publicly. If I wanted to learn about something, I got actual books and read them and studied them and learned from them. I didn’t passively ask Alexa for an answer…I found the answer myself.

So yes, I’m old. Yes, I’m feeling nostalgic about the 80’s. And yes…even though it was far from perfect, there is so much I miss about it. I guess I’m finally one of those people who yearn for the ‘good ole days’…and in fact, I think a lot of us actually do.

Kristi xoxo

“You gotta keep on doing it right.” ~ Brady Bunch

(*Note to my Sweetie Peeps: actual pics of Bill’s stuff was not used in order to protect the dignity of my beloved). So, first I want to say that everything is ‘all right’ between Bill and I even we experienced the greatest challenge to our relationship thus far. It was a bit dicey for a while but we (or actually, mostly me 🙄) overcame and are still going strong. You see, Bill is getting ready to move back to his hometown where I live and he has a new job in, and while I was at his bachelor pad this past week for a couple of days, I helped him pack. Ladies: you may now groan.

It’s funny how you have to learn things about people as you go. For example, we all remember Bill’s aversion to buying furniture…and food…for his pad, but now there’s something else I have to accept: my man is a pack-rat. Yes…for a man who has nothing of substance in his rooms, he has a fuck (sorry, ma 😐) lot of crap hiding in his closets.

We got started and I’m thinking: “This will be a cinch! How much can he have shoved away? We’ll be done in an hour at the most.” Ha. How naive I was. I got out a couple of hardback books that I could sit on in the hallway (no chairs…) while he began dragging out boxes that were barely held together with tape that was beginning to yellow.

I open up the first box he shoved my way and as I started rummaging around, he said: “Kristi…be careful…there could be valuable things in there.” Well, there wasn’t; it was full of books from the 1980’s he had promised himself he would eventually read. Some of the titles that stood out included “Electrical Technology” (this was sure up to date…the PC hadn’t been invented yet 🙄), “The Book on Running” which said, among other things, to run between 40-80 miles a week…no matter what (no pain, no gain), and “Intermediate College Algebra” which of course you want to revisit again and again despite the fact you graduated in the 90’s with a C in it.

So, I said this: “Bill…this box is full of books that are out-dated and would cause even Job to poke his eye out with a stick. I think they need to go in the ‘donate’ pile.” He said: “I need to go through every one of those.” In actuality, this meant that he had to open EVERY single book to show me a page or 2 in it that might be of interest to me or trigger a memory for him. Yes, seeing an electrical wire was not only a thrill but a trip down memory lane. Finally, after we got through only this one box after an excruciatingly long amount of time passed (🥱), I began to think this was going to take longer than expected.

Then came the box of Victrola records and come to find out, Bill no longer has a Victrola. I told Bill: “This box definitely needs donated since you don’t have anything to play these on.” Bill looked dumbfounded and said: “Are you nuts? These are worth money!” So, I looked them up on eBay and at the best, with what he had, he would have gotten about $30 for the lot. That is, if the person didn’t mind that the covers were seeped in mold with centipedes crawling out of the record jackets willy nilly, and the records themselves so scratched up, that anything played was going to sound like a screechy mess (much like my own singing voice 🤨).

What followed was a ‘discussion’ about memorabilia. Look, I’m all for keeping things that mean something to you…I have a nut cracker my grandpa had and it’s one of my favorite things. However, do we need to keep EVERY piece of memorabilia ever saved from his family for the past 3 generations? Hmmmm. So we compromised…he kept a couple of records that were the ‘least’ moldy. 🙄

Another box slid my way and while Bill sort of hinted around he didn’t want my ‘help’ anymore (“Kristi, is there something else you need to do?”), I nevertheless grabbed it and started my archeological dig. This particular box had papers in it. Papers. Not letters from gramma or recipes from mom or little prayers from Uncle Bob, but paper; for example, an empty envelope with a cellophane ‘window’ in it that was torn down one side. I said (very patiently I might add): “Bill…this box is full of useless papers and needs to be thrown away.”

He looked gobsmacked and ambled over to see what I would dare call trash (I called the entire box trash). He said: “Let’s save it.” Now it was my turn to stare at him wide-eyed and I said: “What in the name of all that is holy are you going to do with a torn, used envelope?” He said: “I don’t know. Tape it and use it?” With the patience of a saint, I looked at this man who might be my future hubby (why not…after 3 what’s one more 😏) and said, slowly so he would understand, “Bill…you can buy NEW envelopes at the Dollar Tree. For a dollar.”

So, the process went on. And on and on and on (😐). After we tackled the boxes, we moved on to his closet where I methodically went through every item that was hung up and told him to tell me which clothes he actually wore and liked…the others would be donated: the processing of every garment took him about 5 minutes each, and all of the clothes I thought would look so cute on him are the one’s he didn’t like. For example, he told me to put a dark blue, chambray shirt by Ralph Lauren that matches his eyes in the donate pile but to keep a solid white polyester number he wore to a dance decades ago. He tossed the hot looking Army green work shirt aside but kept a green polo that had some indistinguishable animal over the left boob.

By this time it was almost dark, and I was dusty, moldy, sweaty, hungry and cranky so Bill says: “Wanna tackle the kitchen?” I’m almost ashamed to tell you my response but since I’m always up-front with my sweetie peeps it was this: “Fuck no. Feed me now or I’m outta here.” He understood.

Anyhoot, he’s pretty much packed up and thanks to me, boxes and boxes of stuff was given to Goodwill. I know I’ll never…ever…help him pack again and I’ll monitor his ‘collecting of nostalgic items’ since he’s one ceramic figurine (without limbs 🙄) away from being a hoarder. Yes, we survived this first real test of our relationship. Yes, I forced myself to continue packing even though I would have given my adult coloring books for even a small break. And yes, if he ever asks me if he can go through my stuff…my answer will be no.

Kristi xoxo