misschf-aisa

[misschf-aisa]

Nobody I’d rather do all these things with and then wish I could have a few more ❤️

I read somewhere that "When you choose a life partner you're choosing your eating companion for about 20,000 meals, your travel companion for about 70 vacations, your retirement friend, career therapist, & someone whose day you'll hear about 18,000 times" and I really can't stress this enough.

[misschf-aisa]

Here ya go, hon.

name a show that fumbled so hard by not making a ship canon

[misschf-aisa]

Imma let you finish, but she said register to vote. And y’all know she’s a childless cat lady, so you know who to vote for.

Taylor Swift won 7 awards at the VMAs tonight!

Video of the Year

Artist of the Year

Best Collaboration

Best Direction

Best Pop

Song of Summer

Best Editing

(September 11, 2024)

[misschf-aisa]

Damn it. I just lived through some sketchy service from Lowe’s. But I’ll deal with it and buy from them again.

😲😲😲😲

[misschf-aisa]

Ya know, every time I see Tulsa in something from the wider world it’s always this batshit crazy. I promise there are normal people here.

“Communism, Hypnotism and The Beatles” (1965).

[misschf-aisa]

The last chapter.

The dog woke me up from a sound sleep and my heart needs to slow down so I can find that slumber again. It feels like a good time to finish my little journal to myself that I started here on my favorite site where posts without tags won’t bother very many people.

Dad went into the hospital again. His system was in septic shock times two - he had a urinary infection and a blockage in his colon that caused a blood infection. He also had multiple blood clots in his legs. His blood pressure was super low. He was in constant afib/tachycardia. When he first went into the hospital with all of that he was still chatty and making jokes.

Of course the trouble was he needed blood thinners for the clots. He needed adrenaline to keep his blood pressure up. The adrenaline exacerbated the racing heart. Everything that fixed one thing unfixed another. It was four days of juggling and balancing.

On the fifth day a small studious little doctor came in to speak with me. I hadn’t planned to be there just then, but my girl had suggested I go visit Dad before I ran my errands instead of after. So I was there when the doc came by. He had the thickest Indian accent I’ve heard in a long time. I work as a freelance transcriptionist and I can tell you I’ve heard people say common words in ways that they are absolutely unrecognizable. So I took off my worried daughter brain and put on my transcription brain and listened as he explained the blockage was malignant. And aggressive. He kept watching me, like he was waiting for me to understand.

I’ll admit, it took me a minute to realize he was telling me Dad had cancer again, and it was going to kill him. Even with the most aggressive treatment he’d maybe last three months. I saw the doc relax a little when he realized I understood. He was so kind as he reminded me how Dad was barely hanging on right now and maybe aggressive cancer treatment wouldn’t be advisable. Clearly he wasn’t positive I got it, so I mentioned that it would be selfish to ask Dad to suffer longer just for me to keep him a few more weeks.

The doc tilted his head and asked me what I do for a living. I didn’t expect the question, so I explained what most of the world understands about my employment. I retired from teaching history at the local community college during COVID. He nodded and smiled a little and said he’d figured it was a college job. It’s nice to know when I’m faced with super important life decisions my inner academic steps up and takes care of business.

So it was done. Dad’s doctor who had been treating him since the ER came down to talk to me and clarify, meanwhile I’d spoken with all the family about their opinions. Yes. Make him comfortable. Take the tube out of his nose, stop the adrenaline drip, give him morphine and let him fall asleep. She asked me if I understood he’d probably not last more than a few hours without all of the interventions. I did. It had been the central fact I’d talked with my spouse, my sister, and my kids about.

My oldest son got there before they changed anything. He’d called his dad, my ex-husband, and something in that conversation had inspired my ex to come join us in Dad’s room. It was a little awkward for a few minutes, but then the nurses came and started taking care of Dad.

I watched the monitor. His blood pressure began to drop, then it went below the point the nurse had told me was the threshold for his organs to function properly. His heart was still going at over 100.

Dying is hard to watch. His breathing became labored, and they kept upping the morphine but it never was enough to put him totally out of it. At one point he stopped breathing long enough we thought it was over, then he took a big old loud breath and my ex almost fell out of his chair and the nurse even jumped. We laughed so hard, a good laugh, recognizing that Dad snuck one more joke in and it was a good one.

My sister who lives a few states away called me. I hadn’t expected it. I had just let my son take Dad’s hand and stepped back a little, and it was just as Dad’s heart rate finally started to fall. All I could think to do was give my sister a running report as the heart slowed down. 80, 78, 75, 65, 59, 45, 30, 15, 0. I worried that it seemed crass to keep reporting the numbers like it was some sporting event or election tally, but I wanted her to know exactly when it was done.

So it’s over. The car that should have taken him over an icy cliff last February is in my driveway now. He left a house full of stuff and an inheritance I hadn’t expected, and I’m in business mode now as the executor of his estate. His ashes are right next to Mom’s ashes in my China cabinet until the family gets organized.

That all happened almost a month ago. There’s something about writing it down here and hitting the send button that brings me some relief. Closure, maybe? I don’t know. But now we forge ahead, all the parents have gone and holy shit we’re the ones in charge now. Good luck, y’all. And if you read all of this, thank you.

[misschf-aisa]

Hey Tumblr. Here for another journal entry into the void.

Dad is in the hospital. He’s pretty darn sick. He won’t be driving his car into any exciting remote places any time soon. In fact the ICU nurses have a tendency to forget themselves and mention the current heart failure when they’re going through the list of things they’re juggling with right now.

Here’s the good news. He and I are totally good. He knows I love him, I know he loves me, we’ve been through some wars in the past year and we are totally soldiers in arms.

He’s uncomfortable though. There are a lot of things going wrong with him right now. If the meds work he could be totally fine. If they don’t, he could continue to struggle until he can’t fight it anymore. Tonight it’s the same as this morning, tomorrow we’ll see if it’s different.

I called the ICU tonight and she said there’s nothing new. So I can sleep. She promised to call if anything changes.

[misschf-aisa]

@l82theparty this might explain some things

Just a little PSA for all our mental health (and chronic pain*) spoonies out there! A lot of doctors neglect to mention this little side effect, which means a lot of us are suffering extra from the heat without knowing why.

*Many psych meds are used to treat chronic pain as well, if you didn’t know!

[misschf-aisa]

people want doing the right thing to be like pulling the correct lever at the correct time but actually usually doing the right thing is more like holding a moderate weight at arm's length continuously for seventeen years

[misschf-aisa]

Oh come on. Now I have to ship them. And it isn’t even hard to do.

Christina Hendricks, Elisabeth Moss.

[misschf-aisa]

[misschf-aisa]

I’m using Tumblr as a journal again, because if I don’t tag it then it won’t get in anyone’s way.

My mother stopped breathing on July 1, 2023. She died sometime between June 23 and 24.

My father and mother and I showed up for her surgery at 9:00 in the morning on the 23rd. She was nervous, we were all a little nervous, but we looked forward to tomorrow when everything would be fixed and she’d begin her recovery.

At 7:00 PM I had to run home and take the dog for a walk. Dad promised he’d call if he heard anything.

At 9:00 PM Dad and I were sitting in the hospital lobby with all the bags Mom had packed full of things to make her week of recovery more comfortable. We kind of looked like we were planning to travel overseas for at least a couple of weeks. We were in the lobby because the surgical recovery folks told us she had a room assigned to her, but the security guard at the desk wouldn’t let us go up to the room until she was there.

Sometime between 10:30 and 11:00 I helped my dad carry the bags up to her room. She wasn’t there yet, but we’d managed to get the surgical ward to talk to the damn security dude and coordinate with the floor she was moving to so we could at least go up there and get situated. I kissed the top of my dad’s head and went home to make the long day up to my dog and my girl who were both waiting to give me all the snuggles I needed.

Next morning I went to see how they were and Mom still hadn’t woken up from the anesthetic. Not really. She looked at me with wild uncomprehending eyes when she woke up for a moment, then she went back to sleep. Dad, who was in the middle of his first round of chemo at the time, was so tired he was just grateful for a pull out sofa bed in her room and the nurses who brought him coffee.

That night I came home again around 7:00 PM, but was called back to the hospital because they believed Mom had had a stroke. She recovered enough that I know she recognized me, and Dad, before the week was over. By the end of the week she was exhausted and finally let go.

I’ve been struggling with how to handle today. I’m glad the emergencies that led up to the surgery last year are over. I’m glad she’s not in pain anymore. I know my life is better today than it was this time last year. It’s a mix of the bitter and the sweet and it’s a mess. I decided to light a candle, thinking I was lighting it to mark the time when she stopped being her and started the long transition to ultimate rest.

But it’s not really a candle for her. I’ve lit dozens of those in the past year. I’ve sent her on her way with tears and laughter more than once. Tonight’s candle is for me, and for my dad, and for my girl, and for my dog, and even for that god damn overly zealous security guard who wouldn’t let an old man and his exhausted 50 year old daughter carry their multiple bags up to the room that had already been assigned. We all worked so hard that day and that night, and the preceding weeks. My candle is to recognize that our work is done, she is at peace, and our main goal of the entire ordeal was accomplished. She isn’t suffering anymore.

[misschf-aisa]

This cute blue 1930 home with 1bd, 1ba, is a little pricey b/c it's a beach cottage on Tybee Island, GA. But, it's such a happy little house, I couldn't resist. Asking $550K. It's the smallest house on the island, so it's thought that it may have been a guard house, originally. It can also be a year round home.

Isn't this the cutest living room? It's just so cozy.

It doesn't say in the listing, but usually a vacation cottage is sold furnished. Since they took a closeup of this lovely bicycle pic, it suggests that it does come furnished.

Plus, there are closeups of various furniture pieces, too.

Pretty big galley kitchen and it also has a laundry area tucked in by the back door. I'm not seeing a dishwasher, though. I hate that.

The shower room is cute.

Very nice.

Sweet bedroom.

It's in the back of the house, off the kitchen. Check out the fridge right outside the door.

Nice large deck.

According to the description, the house can be expanded.

Hot tub down in the yard.

The deck has 2 stair cases and there's also a nice shed.

This is very nice. Love wicker.

The lot is pretty big. 4,739 sq ft.

The wicker set is on a small patio in front of the house and the firepit is off to the side.

Adorable picket fence with an arbor over the gate. Such an idyllic property. The sign has its name, "Sunburn Cottage." Ouch!

There is definitely room to expand it.

It's about 4 blocks from the Atlantic Ocean.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1514-2nd-Ave-Tybee-Island-GA-31328/14193587_zpid/

[misschf-aisa]

[misschf-aisa]

runaway

so i suck - @misschf-aisa remembers to post on ao3 but i forget to put it here.

We are up to chapter 29

and they are still cute and figuring things out.

[misschf-aisa]

So uh….some dude apparently recreated Adobe Photoshop feature-for-feature, for FREE, and it runs in your browser.

Anyway, fuck Adobe, and enjoy!