AdventureWorld

The Bullet Dodged; The Bullet Lodged

The main reason I hardly ever blog any more is because my life has been so utterly consumed with medical drama for what is starting to feel like forever. I always said I never wanted to be one of those people who only talked about their health problems but now I AM that person. Health problems have a way of hijacking your life.
So, the things I have written about are not even the Main Event. My spine has progressed to a disaster zone. So, that bullet I’ve dodging for years, the ultimately inevitable surgery, has finally become the no choice option. But, after today, I literally don’t even know where to start first.
I’ve recently found out, from an MRI and a CT scan. that I had severe lumbar spinal canal stenosis in addition to the  spondylolistheses that was diagnosed years ago. My spinal canal is reduced to only 7 mm at L4-5. My ligamentum flavum, the big ligament that runs down the spine, is now almost completely ossified. AS—the gift that just keeps giving!
I’m at risk for permanent nerve damage now, not to mention the, uh, really un-funny pain. So, my spine specialist had already set me up to see a spinal surgeon for what would be extensive and major decompression surgery, plus fusion with  the dreaded bigass titanium screws and rods.
But, then my cervical spine is also killing me and I have developed incessant pins-and-needles tingling in my fingers.  It seemed like my already bad cervical spine was getting in on the act with these disturbingly NEW neural symptoms. So, I was sent off for another MRI and today I got the results. As you may have guessed, I also have a totally fucked up cervical situation, with severe stenosis at C3-4, C4-5, and C5-6. And, of course, risk for permanent spinal cord damage.
Motherfucker!
I see the surgeon tomorrow. I’m going to ask him if he is familiar with the term “twofer special”.

Busy Bee, Me!

In addition to dealing with all my infirmaties, I also had to (happily!) prepare for my LongLostCousin's visit. So that meant I finally had to finish scrubbing up my antique bed and getting it set up in my room so I could put my old bed in the guest room ..and make it a REAL guest room.

I got it all done just in time because she's due to arrive today. Here are pics of my divine new boudoir and the be-my-guest room. [click on photo to enlarge for more wonderous viewing]

My French flea markety look

Guest room with fabuluos antique linens that you can't see but are, indeed, fabulous

This Post Is Brought To You By The Letter L

L is for Lupus. I have it now, the version called drug-induced lupus, from taking anti-tnf biological response modifiers for years. Yes, kids, there is too much of a good thing. Supposedly it will go away since I’ve stopped the AS drugs but tell that to my malar rash. Butterfly, be gone!
L is also for Levaquin, which is the anthrax drug I just had to take an assload of because while my immune system was going WTF over the lupus nonsense, a particularly nasty respiratory infection moved in to stay. It raged for ten days of supine stupory. It was no fun AT ALL.
And L is for linger as in I fear that motherfucking respiratory infection is going to linger in my lungs forever! Really, I begin to seriously wonder.
Tomorrow I will be another year older so L is also for Lucky, lucky me! Actually, I prefer another year older over the alternative so that’s not nearly as facetious as it sounds.
L is for forgive me my lack of loquaciousness of late. I do have many things to say, someday.
And last, but not least, L is for love; gimme some.

At Long Last, A Gallery!

I have some really good reasons why it has taking me forfuckingever to get the latest Zambia photos up but those are other posts. Anyways, behold! (looks much more gobsmacking in Slideshow view, of course)

Zambia 2011 Gallery

Stowaway!

There were tree frogs in my tent all the time at Tena Tena; one of them especially loved to hide out in the side zipper compartment of my duffel ..and I let him, of course because I thought it was kinda adorable for an amphibian.

But when I was packing I had to make him get out and zipped up the side pocket to make sure he didn't sneak back in when I wasn't looking. He was about the size of a bottle of eye drops.

Meanwhile, this other teeny-ninesy guys slips into my TSA required liquid carry-on quart sized plastic bag. I didn't even see him until I pulled out my bag in the Virgin Clubhouse in Heathrow as I was going to take a shower ..and he was still alive! That little bag was totally crammed into a side pocket, how he was not smashed to smithereens is a wonder.

To give you an idea of scale for this photo he is sitting in the bag on top of trial sized tubes of creams. Wee bugger!

I didn't know what to do with him so I asked a Virgin staffer if she had any ideas. They let me take him up to their rooftop garden and set him free. He is now an illegal alien living in London.

Lost in Transition

This is the part of these trips that I really hate, hanging around waiting for the last leg of this long-ass journey home. It's not really the waiting as much as it is the frame of mind, the melancholia of a much anticipated adventure now ended but normal life not yet begun. At least physically I'm comfy--at the fabulous Virgin Clubhouse, showered, clean hair, clean clothes. There's nothing better after 16 hours of traveling. Twelve more hours to go until home sweet wee cottage. I have to admit I'll be a happy lil' monkey back in my sweet abode. No work tomorrow to recover from what will be some serious jet lag, then back for a couple of days, then off for the weekend to get fully rejuvenated. I want to be home NOW, dammit!

Homeward Bound

This might have been my best BAZA (Big Ass Zambian Adventure)ever!! Of course, I've only been to Zambia twice but it is hard to imagine anything that could top this. Much more to come and loads of fab photos but now I'm on a layover in J'burg and typing on my iPad is annoying the ever-loving shit outta me ...and I need a sammich.

Not Even Tonto

I arrived at the hospital in Texas on Saturday and came to understand that my father was waiting for me to meet with his doc and orthopedic surgeon before he said yes to an amputation. With the weekend, this didn't happen until today.
He thought I would find some other option for him; I would know how to fix this Very Bad Thing. He thought I could ride in like the Lone Ranger with guns a'blazing and save the day.
But not this time.
I talked and talked to the surgeon, until I exhausted all doubts that this was the best thing to do, no matter how you measured it. The problem was the only other “options” weren’t really, and they all were truly horrific.
So, I had to break the news to him today that I thought amputation was his only viable option. I had to say that awful word as the surgeon looked on because Dad stared blankly into space when the surgeon tried to talk to him.
I had to take over. I had to say it even though just saying the word almost makes me vomit.
I was as gentle as I could be and told him how much I hated that I couldn’t fix this for him, but that we were at the end of the line on any other option. 
He grabbed my hand as he broke down, and I teetered dangerously on the edge.  He looked up at me and said “it’s been real nice knowing you, Baby”.
He doesn’t want to survive the surgery, you see, and is betting the odds are in his favor. So he made sure he said goodbye. In his own odd way.
Even the hard-ass surgeon got all misty-eyed.
I reviewed the consent forms for him tonight and he signed them.
This might not be the worst day of my life but it's certainly in the top five.

Nookie

My very last room to redecorate in my wee cottage makeover was the breakfast nook. I didn't like what I'd done with it as a temporary thing AT ALL, in fact it was like a blight that bugged the everloving shit out of me. But I just could never quite find the inspiration that I need to know what to do with that tiny space.
Then (months ago before my finances got fucked) I popped in to see my very French, very gay antique textile dealer/pal when he came into town for the Hillsborough antique show and sweet baby Jesus! there IT was, there was no doubt about it--it was like getting hit in the head ..pleasantly, if you can image such a thing.
This was even more unusual because it's a textile shop but he had two pieces of furniture in it--two adorable settees he'd had made from a couple of antique iron beds. All of the sudden I had an absolute vision of the room I was going to create.
So, in my vision, I had piles of pillows made from antique toiles, grain sacks, ticking, mounted on, of course, slubby-nubby antique linen. After many months of collecting of textiles from all over Europe and the US, designing the pillows, having them made; and finding a small table  (that had to be extraordinarily eclectic) to throw in with my old zince top farm table; and pulling it all together, alas, I am done.
And I must say I just love my sweet little nook. I threw in my antique globes and bird collections which added to the electic vibe quite nicely.
Anyhoo, here it is, and some close-ups of the pillows, made from textiles dating back to the early 1800s. Wheeeeee!

Pillow Talk

Well, I FINALLY got the first of my antique-textiles-pillow designs made into an ..[gasp] actual pillow! In all fairness to moi, searching for the right seamstress who was (1) skilled enough and (2) willing to do all the hand-stitching required was quite the undertaking. But, alas, I found the perfect person and not just because she's got mad skills--she got sooooo into it.

But that's another story for when my eyelids are at least half-way open. Right now, I'm peering at this screen through my lashes.  I just can't shake that pesky perpetual exhaustion.

Anyhoo, photos now, story later. The main part of the pillow is made from a piece I painstakenly removed from a 16th or 17th century priest's dalmatic (big robe, this one made of velvet). It is elaborate hand-made embroidery done in gold thread (gold as in the precious metal, not the color) on an ancient green velvet so I also had to reinforce some of it. It is framed by an 18-19th c gold galon trim and the pillow is trimmed in a 19th c gold cord and mounted on a Donghia silk velvet.

Shazam.