Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Living the life.....of a much older woman

It has come down to this:

Compression stockings - check
Slipper Socks to warm chilly toes - check
Slip on Crocs over slipper socks- check
Decorative Cane - check
Messy hair from nap - check
Hollering at Buster to stop eating junk off the ground while standing on the back porch... OMG!

The only elements missing from this picture are the knitting needles, a big ass ball of yarn and thick reading glasses. I already have the adult potty chair and shower chair to boot.

I'm can't help but think I'm supposed to be learning something from all of this. So far, I think it has something to do with developing a nursing home for spunky adults.

On the list of amenities: Turbo-charged scooters, ipod docks, therapy dogs, therapy cats, happy hour, BBQ mixers and big screen TVs.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Mike the Headless Chicken: USDA Funky Chicken Grade

On September 10th, 1945, Fruita, Colorado farmer Lloyd Olsen went to butcher a chicken, but instead gave birth to a legend.

With just the right slip of his axe, Mike's head was removed, but the chicken still lived. For 18 months Mike the Headless Chicken toured the United States and was featured in Life and Time magazines before meeting his maker after choking one night in a hotel room in the Arizona desert.

To celebrate his life, Fruita hosts a Mike the Headless Chicken festival each year the third weekend in May....this Friday and Saturday.

It's true. Weird, but true...and fun I might add.

You see, the history of Mike is near and dear to because not only is this one of my former clients, Mike's part of my family. My very talented aunt, Sally Edginton D'Agostino is one of the festival founders as well as the artist for the posters.

So if you're up for a weekend of small-town Americana complete with Chicken Poop Bingo, a Peeps eating contest and a 5k Run Like a Headless Chicken race, you must go.


Lastly, MIKE FOR PREZ! It's a no brainer!

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Compression stockings must die

To aid in the prevention of blood clots in my legs, my docs have instructed me to wear compression stockings for four weeks...I've got 17 more days to go.

For the record, I hate the compression stockings. Its like putting on a pair of super strength thigh-high pantyhose that are 10 sizes too small. I never liked pantyhose in the first place - this adventure reaffirms my belief that pantyhose are for torture, not fashion.

These stockings cause a muffin top effect so extreme at the top of my thighs that they look like two chef hats perched above my knees. It's gross.

I'm also not allowed to bend more than 90-degrees right now, so my legs haven't been shaved since the replacement. As the hair on my legs grows, it's getting caught in the weave of the compression stockings.

This is an awful sensation.

Leg hairs get pulled up and down as I crutch about the house. When the stockings begin to slip because the grippy band at the top of the stockings is not worth a crap, I reach down to pull them up, again pulling my leg hairs and agitating the raw, bruised skin on my legs.

I have cankles...I don't know if this is being caused by the compression stockings or not, but because I hate the way they feel - I'll blame them.

The only up side to these way too tight, super unsexy pieces of hospital lingerie is that they hide the very odd bluish tint that is developing from the bruising in my legs...not enough of a benefit to make me happy.

In 17 days I'm going to take great delight in feeling my leg hairs blowing in the wind instead of being mashed and pulled in the damn socks. That will be invigorating.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Launch Her Mind

This card arrived for me earlier this week made by my friend David and signed by my awesome coworkers. I am so fortunate to have a network of people who support me and have a fantastic sense of humor. I am also excited to have suggestions for cool nicknames moving forward: Slash, Cyborg, Cylon, Bionic Woman.

I also have the support of my friend Mike to own a Little Rascal with straight pipes, a souped up motor and confederate flags attached to the back. Yes, instead of a Harley, today I wish this to be my method of transportation as I sport my leathers and scream "Outta my way!" while I zip down the sidewalk.

Above is said card...Notice that Jose Cuervo is the official sponsor of the contents of my IV bag.