Wake up, wake up, wake up and start the day!

This morning, I woke up and turned off the house alarm as usual but noticed an error code. I checked all the zones in the house to make sure things were as they should be. They were, so I called the alarm company to find out what's going on. The lady I spoke with had me enter a couple of various codes and bypass the "malfunctioning" area, because our communication system was down. (This happens periodically with our system, but usually only for a moment or two, not long enough for us to see a code on the system panel.) This means that if an intruder were to come in, we would hear the siren in the house but the police would not be notified. I think this is acceptable, as I can keep the phone with me and call if necessary. She says the communication system could be because of bad weather in the area. She tells me if the panel is still giving the communication-error code later, I should call a technician. I say thanks, and we hang up.
A few minutes later, once Mike's out of the shower and I have explained to him the error code and the phone call with the alarm company, I go back to bed because I got very little sleep last night. Twenty minutes after I've laid down, Mike comes back to the bedroom to tell me the cops are here. The system sent out a silent alarm. The cops ask me to call the alarm company. I pick up my cell phone to see that the alarm company has called (silly me, I fell into the habit of NOT sleeping with my phone by my bed when I was sleeping days and getting awakened unnecessarily). I call them, and we discover that one of the codes I was told to enter earlier was the silent duress alarm, the "panic" code. The lady on the other end of the line seems to keep using terminology I don't understand, telling me to enter the code the other woman had told me to enter, and then, when I explain that lady had me enter a couple of codes in addition to my own normal code, so I don't know what she means by "the code the other woman gave me," she tries to explain and seems to make things worse. Admittedly, I'm sure my lack of mental acuity is not helping, as I've gotten very few hours of sleep and have now been "awakened" from almost-sleep by the arrival of the cops.
Finally, the woman tells me we can set the alarm normally but that will mean that the alarm bells will sound in our house. I say, basically, "Okay, bear with me, because I just woke up, and I'm trying to understand. I shut my alarm off this morning when I got up and then noticed an error code. I called your company to figure out what was causing the error code, and we bypassed it so WE would hear the alarm in the house if someone broke in but the cops wouldn't be notified because the communication with the system was down. The cops are here now because, apparently, even though the system wasn't communicating, we entered the panic code. What alarms are you talking about now, and if my system is no longer giving me an error code, why do I want to bypass anything?" I heard about two words come out of her mouth, then we get cut off. I don't know if she hung up on me or if the phone cut out.
When I said, "Hello?" and looked at my phone to see if I still had signal (I did, 4 bars strong), the sheriff's deputy said, "Okay, I'll get out of your hair. It looks like you're going to have your hands full with them today."
I am now up for the duration, all thoughts of stealing a couple more hours' sleep gone.
Yup, it's going to be a great day, I can tell.
* Stringham high: The alarm system is communicating effectively again.
* Stringham low: Who needs sleep?
* Stringham super-high: Bite me. (Seriously, it's too early to be super-high about anything.)

A Cloud to Every Silver Lining

Since about November, I've been trying to get a letter from a doctor confirming my legal blindness so I can get the benefits of the tax deduction. Last week, when I called to check on this, I had the assistant of my newest doctor tell me that there was always a possibility of my sight returning "if the diamox works." (I've been on this medication, diamox, for more than a year now, and my vision has not improved at all, though the condition that caused my sudden vision damage has seemingly been under control, possibly because of the diamox, for several months.) This was somewhat upsetting, because I had begun to make peace with the irreversibility of my vision loss, and because it went against everything I have been told by my other doctors. It's not that I don't hold out hope, or that I think that one defiant doctor can't get results, but I wasn't speaking to the doctor, but her assistant, as the doctor is out of the office for a couple of months (yeah, nice, that).

So I called the office of a different doctor--the one who performed my optic nerve sheath fenestration and who referred me to this new doctor. I asked if he could write the letter or if he thought there was a possibility of the vision returning so that such a letter would be unnecessary. He called me a few minutes ago to make sure that I understood "all the implications" of him writing this letter for me. (God bless these doctors who take the time to call and speak and explain!) He's preparing to write the letter declaring my legal blindness, but before he starts writing it, he wanted to me to understand that it will make it illegal for me to get behind the wheel of a car ever again, even with a driver's license. If my visual field were to ever somewhat be restroed and I wanted to no longer be declared legally blind, he said, it's very difficult to get this "stamp" removed from my record, because officials would say, "How can someone be blind, then not be blind anymore?" (Well, stranger things have happened...but we ARE talking about government workers here...no offense to my government-employed friends, but you know who I'm talking about.) If I wanted such a thing removed from my record so I could drive again, I'd ahve to undergo all sorts of tests and such.

So I asked again the likelihood of my sight returning. He said he's had some patients who've been able to regain some of their visual field after being able to maintain a good intracranial pressure, but that's the exception. It's more usual to simply work on preserving what's left. (He has said before I'm one of the more extreme cases, because my vision deteriorated so rapidly, in just a couple of weeks, so we have to watch for things escalating quickly to total blindness within just a few days, whereas most people with IIH have months, even years.) So I explained that I've not driven since September or October 2009 because I don't dare to, so I think this is the best course of action for now. If, by some miracle, my vision improves so much that I can drive again, that's when I'll worry about the hassle of trying to get the "ruling" of legal blindness removed or reversed. (Besides, I figure if the vision is restored that much by medical breakthrough, there will be plenty of before-and-after tests and such in my medical record to present as evidence. And if it returns through nonmedical miracle, I'll have the Divine support I need to make it through all those tests and challenges--if restoring my vision is possible, a few tests should be nothing, especially with my hard-headedness.)

I felt a twinge of tears when I hung up the phone--a twinge at the finality, the official declaration of my disability. (I don't like that word. It really seems ugly to me. But I do have a disability. I'm not disabled, but I do have a disability that impairs my ability to live a life that our society deems normal.) I've had to move into acceptance slowly, and somewhat painfully. In November 2009, I still believed more vision would be restored as my eyes recovered from my optic nerve sheath fenestrations. In March 2010, I still hoped to drive and take the visual test to see if I could. In early summer 2010, I printed the form to complete for a disability hang-tag for special parking. In August 2010, I sent that form to my doctor for signature. In December 2010, I got the placard after holding on to the completed application for 3 1/2 months. Now, in January 2011, I'm accepting the official statement that I am legally blind.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to say or think "I am legally blind, and I will likely never drive again" without wanting to cry.

At least the good news is that I can get a nice deduction on my taxes.

* Stringham high: Being able to function almost "normally" in nearly every way with the vision I still have
* Stringham low: Missing the freedom of driving
* Stringham super-high: Kind, giving, helpful friends, family, and neighbors

Stephanie's Most Chord-Striking Books

I finally did it. I have been kicking around the idea for some time of creating my own list of "favorite" books. After much discussion today with some friends on Facebook, I finally created my "overall" list. These are definitely not all the books I would ever recommend, nor are they books I would recommend to everyone. (If you want a list tailored to you, you just let me know.)

I started by thinking of all the books that have stuck with me for weeks, months, or years, for whatever reason, listing all the books I could think of off the top of my head. Then, with that same requirement in mind, I reviewed the list of the 350+ books I have read and tracked (including recreational reading and required college reading) since 1993. I threw in a couple I remember from before 1993 and a couple I have edited or proofread.

I do not include works that are influential or important to literature or society unless they struck a particular personal note with me, so there’s no Shakespeare, no Chaucer, none of the other DeadWhite Guys. I also do not list any of the religions texts I am always reading, such as widely held religious texts (Bible, Quran, Book of Mormon, Baghavad Gita, miscellaneous "newly discovered lost texts," etc.). (Though that is not to say I don’t recommend the DWG or the religious texts.) All genres included, in alphabetical order by title:

1421: The Year China Discovered America, Gavin Menzies

1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus, Charles C. Mann

1984, George Orwell

American Gods, Neil Gaiman

Angels along the Way, Della Reese

An Open Heart: Practicing Compassion in Everyday Life, His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Anthem, Ayn Rand

At Peace in the Light, Dannion Brinkley with Paul Perry

Brother Wind, Sue Harrison

The Collected Autobiographies of Maya Angelou, Maya Angelou (Why list them all individually, as I read them, when they exist collected now?)

The Color of Dust, Benjamin Lawless

The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou, Maya Angelou

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, Emily Dickinson

Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, Gregory Maguire

Congo, Michael Crichton

The Darkangel Trilogy, Meredith Ann Pierce

The DaVinci Code, Dan Brown

Destiny of Souls: New Case Studies of Life Between Lives, Michael Newton

The Dragonriders of Pern series, Anne McCaffrey

Eats, Shoots & Leaves, Lynne Truss

The Elements of Style, Strunk & White

Emma, Jane Austen

Eragon, books 1-3 (4 coming soon?), Christopher Paolini

Esau, Philip Kerr

Evelina, Frances Burney

The Fall of Freddie the Leaf, Leo F. Buscaglia

Fingerprints of the Gods, Graham Hancock

Freedom series, books 1-4, Anne McCaffrey

The Green Mile, Stephen King

Harry Potter, Books 1-7, J.K. Rowling

Have a Little Faith, Mitch Albom

Heavy Words Lightly Thrown: The Reason Behind the Rhyme, Chris Roberts

The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

Jennifer Government, Max Barry

Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives, Michael Newton

The Langoliers, Stephen King

Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Choderlos De Laclos

Lisa, Bright and Dark, John Neufeild

The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien

Mama Might Be Better off Dead, Laurie Kaye Abraham

Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl

Mary Called Magdalene, Margaret George

Mary, Queen of Scotland & The Isles, Margaret George

Memnoch the Devil, Anne Rice

The Memoirs of Cleopatra, Margaret George

Misquoting Jesus, Bart D. Ehrman

Mother Earth Father Sky, Sue Harrison

Mountains Beyond Mountains, Tracy Kidder

The Mummy, Anne Rice

My Sister the Moon, Sue Harrison

Next, Michael Crichton

Nickel and Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich

The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks

One Last Time, John Edward

People of the Lakes, Kathleen O’Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear

Pope Joan, Donna Woolfolk Cross

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

Real Boys, William Pollack

Saved by the Light, Dannion Brinkley with Paul Perry

The Seven Daughters of Eve, Bryan Sykes

Somewhere over the Sun, Adi Alsaid

The Sound of Waves, Yukio Mishima

The Vampire Lestat, Anne Rice

What Dreams May Come, Richard Matheson

Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung? Ajahn Brahm

The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Elizabeth George Speare

The Search

I was just looking through some old journal entries on my computer, for some reason--wanting to compare my beliefs now to the ones I had in spring or summer of 2009. What I found was this, right at the very beginning of everything that happened--less than a month before I conceived, when I wanted it so badly but still had to wonder.

At any rate, I wanted to share, because ... well, because I felt compelled to.

Here it is, complete journal entry from 30 May 2009, nothing changed, except names shortened to protect the innocent.

Saturday 30 May 2009

Where are the answers?

What kind of selfishness is it to want to bring a child into this world? As we spin on this great marble of blue and white and green, this beautiful place, with all its terrible truths? What selfishness is it to bring a child into the world. Even to ensure that child has a smooth life, a pleasant life, a good life, there’s the terror—always the terror of what COULD happen, of what WILL happen, of death. We watched an episode of a TV show today that had a lady say, “I don’t want to die!” And the truth struck me—how many times do we all think that? In the middle of the night, when we wake up in a cold sweat, dreaming of a world without us in it; in the middle of the day, when we nearly get hit by a car and our lives flash before our eyes, and we glimpse the possibility of ceasing to exist. What terror is this—the possibility of the utter ceasing-to-be of our consciousness? Sometimes I think I’ve found peace. But then the old terror renews itself. Even those who believe in an afterlife are sometimes frightened of death—aside from the doubts that may crop up (Maybe this IS all it is, and there is no higher power. What if I didn’t do the right thing in God’s eyes?). What beauty is it, what peace, to not fear death. There is so much we don’t know.

And on this beautiful day, as I sit in the comfort of my living room, I stare at the trees moving in the breeze, in the gorgeous sunshine outside our window, and I contemplate the terror that is likely running through the very essence of some extended family members. M’s Uncle J (K’s husband) had a seizure in the middle of the night a few weeks ago, and since then, they’ve learned that he has terminal brain cancer. They expect him to have two years, at most, with treatment. I think he’s had a good life, but he is relatively young. But even if he were old and had lived a very full, very rich life…would that make his impending death any less tragic, any less painful, for his family—for HIM?

And M’s sister, about the same time as their uncle’s seizure, discovered some bumps on her neck and went to the doctor. After several tests, they still aren’t sure what it is, but it could be lymphoma. To try to learn if it is, she’s having a lymph node excised in a couple of weeks... What kind of terror must that be, to wait and wait and wait, dreading the worst but hoping for the best? I had to worry about it for only a few days when my mother had problems in the fall—but weeks to learn a prognosis? What hell is that for her and her family?

I wonder how M feels about all this, whether he finds comfort in anything. I want to cry, and I’m not as close to them as he is. But am I crying for them? I suppose I am, as I cry for so many people for so many reasons, but I also cry for myself, for their family members, knowing what it is to have a loved one go through this, this fear, this waiting, this chance to “come to terms” with death, with loss.

I cry because at times like this, I always doubt. I vacillate between believing there is something more and fearing that there is not. The mind and the body, always warring—the body screaming for all it’s worth to survive, to not accept that death awaits it, and the mind calling for peace, trying to uncoil the knots in the pit of the body’s stomach, to slow the pounding of the heart, to deepen the breathing. Ultimately, they compromise—the body leaps up, to stretch, to expend the energy pumped through in flight-or-fight response. The body walks, outside into sunshine if possible, and the mind tries to shut down, or to at least distract itself by the sun, the sounds, the utter LIFE surrounding it. But then comes the melancholia—the realization that this all ends. Perhaps it doesn’t end, and only evolves, but such CHANGE! We humans dislike change, even if we say we don’t. Some of us fear it so much that we embrace it. But we fear it, nonetheless—we just cope with it differently. And what bigger change is there than death? We all go through it, but it’s not like childbirth or puberty—we can’t ask others who’ve been through it what it’s like and how to deal with it.

Yes, there are the folks with near-death experiences, the folks who claim to speak to the dead, the ones who claim to have been to heaven or hell, the ones who claim memories of previous lives and of life between lives. But we think they are crazy, or delusional, or just plain wrong. Or maybe, we think, they ARE right, but how can we KNOW? After all, we can only KNOW what we, ourselves, experience, and we often doubt ourselves, or fool ourselves.

As I sit here and write, I also reflect on the fact that when I volunteered as a hospice worker, helping those who were dying, and their families, my peace concerning death was greater. I still feared death—at least physically, I had the fight-or-flight response—but I knew that there are more important things—bringing comfort to those who are grieving the loss of life (their own OR their loved one’s), truly living and experiencing what we can instead of getting bogged down in what will happen, making the world a “better place” so that life isn’t torture (or so we help each other through the “tortures” that we can’t prevent). And then I get the crazy notion that that would make it so that death is the only thing we’d really fear. As if the human brain works that way—everyone has at least one fear—maybe spiders, maybe zombies, maybe clowns—but it all is ultimately the fear of what those things, in the fearer’s brain, bring—death. And then there’s the really crazy notion that if life weren’t all that great, if it weren’t happy, we could look to death as an old friend, as a comfort, as a long peaceful sleep.

Philosophers and common people alike throughout history have debated death, have pondered it, on its own merits and in relation to life, and have come up with no answers, so I ask, where ARE the answers? I certainly don’t have them, even if I like to think I do.

My head simply spins, my heart races, my breathing quickens, my tears fall. And then I look at my husband and think of my parents, and I smile and laugh and think "This is what it is truly about. This is peace, this is love.” These, who have nurtured life, fostered love, they are my role models in life. They are what drive me forward to try to make the world a better place somehow, even if it is in a hundred little ways, instead of One Big Way. I leave it to others to devote their lives to trying to find the cure for cancer, to battle for the rights of patients with Hepatitis C or AIDS, to try to end. Instead, I try to improve the world by planting another tree, smiling at the people I meet on the street, speaking words of encouragement. These things don’t undo death, they don’t make the fear of death or of losing a loved one any less. But somehow, they do some good. THIS I can believe in with less reservation than life after death, somehow.

But this isn’t about me—it’s about all of us—all of the people I know and love, that M knows and loves—even the people we really can’t stand, the people we sometimes think “deserve” death. How precious is life that we are willing to throw it away, to take someone else’s right to it? And who are we to bring other lives into this world to have to go through death, at the very least, and intense physical and emotional suffering, at most? But that’s the brain talking, the consciousness. The body screams that propagation of the species must continue and fights to continue life, to procreate, to force life into this world to keep the species alive.

I remember reading in one of my books talking about “life between lives” that someone in hypnotic regression said that Earth is chosen by souls who want to progress quickly, because it is a hard world, but one that teaches many lessons for all that. I also read another statement that one of the reasons Earth is one of the hardest existences because of the human body—the constant warring of the consciousness and the physical body; the resulting inner struggle is great and terrible but gives us incredible potential.

Maybe that’s so, and maybe it’s all a bunch of hooey, but who can say?

Joy to the World!

The past few days have been really good. I have felt better and had more energy than I can recall having in months.

On Friday, M and I spent 14 hours out and about, running errands and enjoying one another's company. Among other things, we finally got my handicap placard (just in time for icky parking lots), bought several of the tool's he's required to have for his job, and had a fantastic sushi lunch.

Sunday, I had an entire day free from editing and used it all to tackle house chores that have been sadly abandoned or undermanaged since M started working back in March/April. I scrubbed the walls and showers and sink in the main bathroom, where mold and hard water stains accrue. I folded laundry. I cooked several meals, I did dishes. Oh, the things I did in all my day! I only sat down and played WoW for 30 minutes or so. The entire rest of the day was spent cleaning and organizing.

On top of all this, since M's been at his new job and I've been on MY sleep schedule and not HIS work schedule, I've been able to have a hot dinner ready for him and his lunch packed almost as soon as he walks in the door, in addition to washing a load of dishes nearly every day. With the load M did on Saturday, the pile of dishes that was threatening to swallow our kitchen whole (it's a large kitchn with a lot of counter space, and I'm NOT exaggerating) is down to just one dishwasher full. And it will be destroyed tomorrow.

What does it matter that what should be routine housekeeping tasks are actually, well, routine housekeeping tasks? It matters because I've had the ENERGY and the INTEREST and the STAMINA to do them in addition to my editing work. Finally! More than a year since the miscarriage and my near-blindness and my diagnosis with IIH, I am regaining stamina! I no longer put in a "lot" of physical activity (read: normal activity for most people) one day then have to sleep 14 hours that night to make up for it!

Today, I woke in a good mood, with plenty of energy, despite being awakened by the alarm clock. I immediately started at the day. It still takes me a while to build up my head of steam, but I was soon chugging along and kept up the pace for a full 9 hours. Woohoo!

When M got home from work this evening, he said he was given an application today by the company he works at, "now that he's already doing the job." Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, though, he realized what he was saying. The application was from the company he works AT, not the one he works FOR as a temp. Then he realized this is probably a good thing--that the company wants to have the application complete so they can hire him directly as soon as they can (most likely about mid-February, if I've done my math correctly, as they usually wait 3 months to hire their temp-to-hire folks so the temp agency can get whatever money they have been promised).

* Stringham high: Christmas is coming soon!
* Stringham low: Cold. Brr!
* Stringham super-high: Strength! Stamina! Good-paying employment!

Ah, Life

It's been a busy month. M has changed jobs. So far, he really likes the new one and sees the company as a place he could stay at for years. Literally. The number-one reason for losing workers there is retirement. Now he just has to get hired on full-time from the contract position, which we're hoping will be only a few months rather than an entire year.

Of course with the job switch, we are left without health insurance again, though the temp agency offers some mediocre coverage for mediocre-to-high cost. We're considering it, though, because of the waiting period and my need to visit the doctors and have labs every few months...but we're trying to determine if paying cash will be more affordable than the coverage provided. Same old story, different day. (If he gets hired on full time by the company he's working at now, we'll have coverage for my health, apparently. Their insurance covers preexisting conditions with no waiting period and is reasonably priced--so the story goes. Maybe it's just a fairy-tale, but if so, it's a good one.)

Of course, the appointment with the new neuro-ophthalmologist that I made back when I had no insurance then did have insurance that would cover happened just four days after Mike left his old job, so the visit wasn't covered by insurance. The new doctor says she wants to try lowering my dose of the medicine I'm on but doesn't want to try it until I've lost the weight I "gained from the pregnancy." She didn't seem to understand that I didn't gain any weight from the pregnancy and am now lighter than I was before I got pregnant. Still, she wants me to lose weight, and so do I. Here we go trying again. This time, we're enlisting the help of ankle and wrist weights and having me sit on an exercise ball for a few hours a day while I work at my computer. And, of course, as always, we're trying to adjust my diet again.

On Sunday, while M was out getting my Christmas present, he noticed a crack running the full length of the windshield. Apparently, a very small chip turned into the crack almost overnight, because we hadn't seen the crack when we were out on Friday. Fortunately, I have comprehensive coverage on the car, so the windshield will be replaced at no cost to us--not even a deductible. That's the first time I've ever had to use my auto insurance. Funny thing is I had only ever had one insurance claim before we lived in this town--in 6 years of renters/homeowners insurance and I have no idea how many years in car insurance. Since we've lived in this house--a grand total of 2 1/2 years--we've had three claims, car and house combined. Not to mention the health stuff. Crazy, crazy few years.

Still, all in all, we're good. We're looking forward to the holidays, M likes his new job, I'm trying to get more active and regain more energy and take back "control" of the housework (and so far succeeding, though slowly), and we stay mostly warm in the house despite single-digit temperatures and the heat pump running constantly.

* Stringham high: It's almost Christmas.
* Stringham low: Cold, cold, cold.
* Stringham super-high: M likes his new job; I am regaining lost energy.

Yee-haw, y'all!

I've been lax in writing lately, partly because of the ability to provide quick updates via Facebook, partly because of a very busy work schedule, and partly because of life's demands. For those of you who look forward to these little updates of mine, I apologize.

So today, what am I writing about? I have no idea yet. I guess we'll figure it out as I write...

Since my last post in mid-October, life has been constant change. (I know, since when is that different?) M got put on a different schedule at work to help an injured coworker; my work has been steady and a bit overwhelming at times because the balance of project types has changed; I spent a couple of weeks in Nashville, IN, Gatlinburg, TN, in my trek to be a bridesmaid in the wedding of my friends T & M; my M got a new job, which he starts in a few more days, on day shift, so we have to switch from nights to days; and my mom just spent a couple days in the hospital again. We have done almost no winterizing around the house, no preparation, and have no idea if we'll be spending the holidays with family, friends, or both. Some of the trees in our orchard have lost all their leaves, some have all brown leaves, some are completely green, and some (the five-in-one trees) have green, brown, orange, and no leaves.

You want details, you say? Where do I start? The wedding in TN was a success. T & M were married. Despite some bumpy patches in the days leading up to and the morning of the wedding, everyone pulled together like seasoned pros, and the bride and groom seemed extremely happy at the end of the night. And the wedding party and friends had a lot of fun in the evenings at our gigantic cabin. We were a little crazy--at least the women; the men mostly played Munchkin, billiards, and video games. Still, I think it was all good.

Nothing much to report about the new job yet. He'll still be working 12-hour shifts, but his drive will be about twice as long as it is now. He'll work 4 days on, 4 days off. He'll start on days, then eventually go to nights, then back to days, then nights. We don't know details on how long each swing will be. He'll be a contractor right now. Year-long contract or until he gets hired full-time. Or they could extend the contract. The company seems to like hiring people out of this position, so it's promising. Plus, even though the job technically requires only a high school education, the company likes having people with chemistry or chemical engineering degrees--quite unlike most jobs, for which companies are afraid to hire people who are "overqualified." So yes, promising. Oh, and M knew he was going to receive almost twice the pay for this job as for the one he's leaving. He has since learned he'll be making even more. We are VERY happy about that, especially the possible added flexibility it gives us in some aspects of our life.

My mom went to the hospital a few days ago because she was in a lot of pain in her abdomen, like with her flare-up last November and leading up to her intestinal surgery a couple of years ago. The hospital did an X-ray and found a a blockage in her intestine. They gave her some pain medicine and put in an NG tube and an IV. Within a few hours of checking in, she was transferred to a larger hospital, the one where she had her intestinal surgery back in 2008, so she could be seen by one of the doctors who had conducted the surgery. They did X-rays when she got to the larger hospital, and they found the blockage was gone. We don't know what did it. Some theories are that the NG tube had something to do with it, or Mom vomiting while they were trying to put the tube in, or that prayer did it. Or a combination of the three. I look fondly on the idea of all three, as we had several people praying for her before she got transferred to the larger hospital. If you don't like my theory, choose one of your own. :D Anyway, last night, Mom was given a liquid dinner, and today she was given a breakfast of soft solids. All went well, so she was discharged. She's at home now. She says if she feels up to it, she's going to go deer hunting tomorrow. We'll we know where I get some of my orneriness...

Tonight is the last night for M at this current job. We have a few days to get back on a day schedule, then he has two days of 4-hour orientation (yes, 4 hours each day). And he might start his new job the next day, or that weekend, or the following week. We won't know until sometime during his orientation. This should be a fun week. In the past month, I've already switched from nights to days, then back to nights again. Now I get to go back to days. Yeehaw!

* Stringham high: New doctor (neuro-ophthalmologist) in a few days.
* Stringham low: Today? Nah, it's all good, but I hear one of my mothers-in-law is feeling not so great. Keep her in mind, if you would, and pray/send loving thoughts and energy.
* Stringham super-highs: M starting a new job; most recent season of Doctor Who begins arriving via Netflix on Monday.