Thinking about `what if…’

Happy New Year!

December blew by in a rush. Cookie baking. Some pre-holiday gatherings.  Cookie baking.  Holiday decorating. Cookie baking. Cleaning and furniture rearrangement.  Cookie baking. Snow shoveling. Vile flu and a headache that lasted eight days. Cookie baking. Pre-surgery preparation.  Holiday celebration. Eldest and youngest sons swooping in to “help.”  Finally the much-anticipated highlight: my husband’s hip replacement surgery.

Frankly, I’m exhausted. I’m also amazed at the amount of  “stuff” hip and joint replacement patients accumulate prior to surgery. My husband’s pre-surgery preparation list included elastic shoelaces; grabbers of varying lengths; canes; toilet risers and shower grab bars; shower seats; incredibly long shoe horns; and those odd-looking gizmos to pull on socks.  Oh, let’s not forget the walker.  It has a seat, a basket, hand brakes and night reflectors.  Just add headlights and a John Deere motor and he’s street legal.

Among the things he had to do prior to surgery: Make out a Health Care Directive. Like many of us, he had stubbornly avoided thinking about “what if….”.  But it’s so important to have one—and I learned that the hard way.

When my brain blew up, the Health Care Directive forms were in my office buried with other paperwork in my “To Do” file.  While in ICU those first few days, I floated in and out of sleep. Although much of it remains a blur, I was very worried about unfinished business.  When one of the hospital’s social workers came, I remember a sense of relief.  She brought the forms and in a soothing clear voice, explained each option, checked my selections, and rearranged my bed tray so I could sign it.  

We all should make out a Health Care Directive—and we should do it long before we need it. But human nature is mysterious and, too often, we procrastinate “should” until it becomes “must.”

As for my husband’s surgery?  It’s been much more of a blessing than a curse. His surgeon is unbelievably talented and skilled.  St. Joe’s orthopedic nurses were fabulous. The home health nurse and physical therapist are grand.  My husband’s hip doesn’t hurt at all. In fact, he’s getting around better than before his surgery. Only one question remains: What are we going to do with his tricked-out walker?

Making a plan

My grocery list is getting longer as the holidays approach.  Awhile back I mentioned my problem with grocery shopping and was reassured by your comments that I was not alone.  Apparently grocery shopping is a brain drain for many of us who’ve had aneurysms. Perhaps we could share some helpful hints?

What seems to work best for me is timing and mapping. After struggling through the exhaustion of Cub and Rainbow, I decided to shop at a grocery store that was more manageable in size yet moderate in price. Because I live in White Bear Lake, I chose Festival.

Using grid paper from my son’s days in geometry, I created a rough map of the store starting at the entrance (flower mart, quick deli and bulk sales), ending at the checkout (bakery and books).  It’s a general map, and items aren’t always shelved logically, so it’s not perfect. But it helps.

At home, I take my list and reorganize it on 3×5 cards using the map. The first 3×5 card includes the bulk sales and fresh produce.  The next one takes care of half of the aisles in order. Another card lists meat and dairy. The last lists snacks, freezer, and bakery items. If I have coupons, I clip them onto the cards.

I’ve learned that, by taking extra time at home mapping my list to the store, I spend much less time traipsing up and down the aisles. In fact, I can skip some of the aisles depending on the list. As for backtracking through the store for something missed or forgotten?  It almost never happens anymore.  The exception, of course, is when items get moved (sigh).  Or I need something the store considers unusual and it is shelved in an illogical place. 

As for timing, I try to shop for groceries on weekdays before the 9-5 crowd gets there.  I’ve been known to drive to the store, see a full parking lot, turn the car around and drive back home.  Why ask for trouble? There’s always another day and time to shop.

I didn’t like grocery shopping before my brain blew up and I sure don’t like it now.  If you have any helpful hints that YOU’VE learned, I love to hear them. Surely there’s a way we survivors can help each other ease the brain drain.

When Lightning Strikes, You Have to Act

I had a brain storm during dinner one hot July evening. Lightning cracked inside my head. Hot tingling electricity sparked and thrummed throughout my brain. My 17-year old son put down his fork and asked if I was okay.

I remember saying, “No. I don’t think so.” Read the rest of this entry »