My coordinator at the Indiana University Transplant Unit, Miss Jane, revised my plan just a little bit. Instead of having three stages to get to GO...there are only two.
At 252 pounds, my living donors and I BOTH can begin the testing and re-testing phase.
At 242 pounds, Dr. Goggins and I will meet again and I will be officially activated and that much closer to transplant.
(At 160 pounds I'm going to launch my career as an internationally famous super model who eats waffles on yachts with Jeffrey Dean Morgan, but...baby steps, Dearies. Baby steps.)
I did really really well over the weekend with a very minimal fluid gain, so the assumption is that I probably actually lost a few more pounds. I came off the scale under my "dry weight", which is a dialysis thing, but no more peeking at the numbers until Friday afternoon.
I will confess that I could very easily eat my arm right about now...Buzzy and all...but coming here and pulling my knickers down is keeping me completely on track. Revealing this most intimate detail of my life to you has finally made me feel completely and totally accountable because I can literally feel you all pulling for me.
(Except, of course, for Betty.)
Time to make the salad, kids. Tonight's selection will include romaine hearts, celery, carrots, red bell pepper, hard boiled eggs, and black pepper. Accompanying this culinary masterpiece will be a lovely little 2019 Crystal Light Lemonade from the Target region.
I probably won't see y'all tomorrow (anesthesia and all), but I promise to take it easy, not drive or operate any heavy machinery, and not sign any legal documents while I'm gone.
Ciao, for now!
Aug 12, 2019
MONDAY...MONDAY
Well, here we are again, Dearies...doing our thing in the d-chair. I had a quiet weekend, so you'd think I'd be well-rested and in good cheer, but I am tired and slightly blech instead. (Not totally and completely blech, mind you. Just enough blech that I am more blech-ier than not.)
I didn't ply one single stitch yesterday, but I did manage to catch up on my magazine reading. I love magazines. I really do. I subscribe to a number of them and used to stay on top of reading them every Sunday, but in years past I have fallen terribly behind, especially with The New Yorker. Stewey and I shared that one, and he often handed it to me with post-it notes marking something he thought particularly apropos to my parenting skills.
Yesterday found me in the damn recliner with my damn good after Mass, etc. reading to my heart's content, though, while the laundry did its thing and JB enjoyed that blacony and his radio.
The week ahead will be interesting and busy. I am having surgery/angioplasty on my arm tomorrow, and then going to my family doc on Thursday for a check up. In between, will be a visit by the nice lady from the upholstery shop to give me an estimate on re-doing the Happy Chair. I know that I can buy a new one at the Value City for $700, but I also know the quality of my current chair must be pretty good to have lasted these 28 years and it's not likely to be repeated.. Either way, I have started my Happy Chair piggy bank and will finally pull the darn trigger in the next few months.
OK. Enough rambling. Time to get the headphones on, the Flosstube tuned in, and needle in hand. Happy Monday to one and all! Come tell me all about life in your neck of the world today!
Aug 11, 2019
SUNDAY...SUNDAY
We're home from Mass, the car wash, the gas station, and the Bob Evans...where everybody is somebody special according to the poster on the wall. I am in clean fresh pajamas that I fished out of the bottom of a dresser drawer, and the laundry is happily sploshing away while JB watches the sports on the TeeVee and we contemplate going to the pool.
Here's my progress on Plum Pudding. This is the left center moteef...hopefully to be completed today!
It's going to be a steamy one, I think. If my weather thingie is correct, we're looking at a high temp of 86 today! Methinks that might be perfect stitchy weather, as long as there is some cold brew and the a/c on blast!
Happy Sunday, Dearies! Next week we're all meeting at Vonna's house for breakfast! Did you see the spread she put out!? Biscuits! And gravy! And eggs and bacon!
Vonna, when I finally drop dead (or get married...whichever comes first), will you supervise the caterers, please? 😬
Here's my progress on Plum Pudding. This is the left center moteef...hopefully to be completed today!
It's going to be a steamy one, I think. If my weather thingie is correct, we're looking at a high temp of 86 today! Methinks that might be perfect stitchy weather, as long as there is some cold brew and the a/c on blast!
Happy Sunday, Dearies! Next week we're all meeting at Vonna's house for breakfast! Did you see the spread she put out!? Biscuits! And gravy! And eggs and bacon!
Vonna, when I finally drop dead (or get married...whichever comes first), will you supervise the caterers, please? 😬
Aug 10, 2019
SATURDAY SPINSTER BLISS
Chello, Dearies!
Well, it's Saturday again, which means I am a bit hung over, thrilled to have two days off, and contemplating a to-do list the length of my arm.
Naaaaaah.
I think I'll get my wits about me, grab my smoothie, and head to the pool. It's a beautiful day here in Hoosierville and I think a long float looking at the clouds is exactly what this spinster needs.
(Do you ever do that? Just chill and watch the clouds? I have made it part of my weekly routine, and I have to tell you...there's something about that gorgeous blue and those cotton candy fluff balls just up there doing their thing that touches me deep in my pitiful little soul.)
Stitching-wise, I made a little progress on Poppins during treatment yesterday, but she's in the car and I don't have the energy to go down the stairs and fetch her just yet. I have a huge hankering to play with Plum Pudding today, so I might go against tradition and do something different for a change. I do know that September will be full of autumnal things, and if I can manage it budget-wise, another dessert mandala from Glendon Place.
Well, will you look at that? Me getting all organized and planny and such!
I hope your weekend is off to a marvelous start and that you get to do all the things. Have some fun and come tell me all about it!
Aug 9, 2019
OPERATION GO...STAGE ONE...WEEK ONE REPORT
LAST WEEK'S WEIGHT: 266
CURRENT WEIGHT: 262.7
WEIGHT LOST THIS WEEK: 3.3
STAGE ONE GOAL WEIGHT: 257
STAGE TWO GOAL: 252
GOAL WEIGHT TO GET A NEW KIDNEY: 242
ULTIMATE LIFETIME GOAL: 160
WAIT A MINUTE! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!?!
Unless I am completely mistaken (which is entirely possible), today is WORLD CROSS STITCH DAY AND NATIONAL BOOK LOVERS DAY!
WOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!
I am wiggling my heiney in the d-chair with unmitigated glee, Dearies! Let's party!
WOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!
I am wiggling my heiney in the d-chair with unmitigated glee, Dearies! Let's party!
Aug 8, 2019
SO ABOUT THIS DIET THING...
THANK YOU! to the hundreds of you that have written and commented with encouragement, suggestions, and support. I really truly absolutely positively appreciate each and every one of you.
My life history has been on a diet. I have done every single program, pill, video, card, and meeting available and have enjoyed and been successful on each, including the three-day hot dog diet.
Remember that one?
You basically ate air for two and a half days, and then you got to have a hot dog for dinner on day three.
Well, I might have forgotten the finer points, but I know that Valerie Murino and I did it in the eighth grade and she lost six pounds and I gained eight.
Now that I am who I am...53...peri-menopausal (any day now, please God)...sans thyroid and three parathyroids (thank you thyroid cancer)...a Crohn's patient (gd prednisone)...and in end stage renal failure (thus, dialysis), it takes a village to keep me on track.
Dialysis makes dieting tricky, because the kidneys do so much related to weight loss and gain in terms of fluids, toxins, and minerals and vitamins. On any given day, my weight can fluctuate as much as ten or twelve pounds, depending on the comings and goings of those three things.
This doesn't mean anything other than the fact that everything I know about diet and nutrition gets turned on its head a bit. But, my dialysis unit (like all, I would imagine) provides me with a dietician to help me navigate.
I have three little goals to hit in the next month that are crucial: at five pounds lost, living donors can begin their testing process to see if they are eligible to donate a kidney either to me or to a paired-donation chain that I am on. (This means that I might not get that exact kidney, but one that matches me from somebody on the chain.) At ten pounds, I can repeat all of my testing to make sure that there aren't any underlying issues going on that would prompt rejection, and at twenty pounds I can look the surgeon in the face and say GO.
(GO in my world means becoming active and moving up the UNOS list for kidney transplant. I have accrued two full years on the list, but active status puts me in an entirely different checkout lane, especially if I have a living donor come forward. I had been kinda hanging out on the inactive list when my sister fell through, and I don't think it takes a team of psychiatrists to figure out why. Somehow, I guess I got it in my head that I wasn't worthy of a kidney...but these are stories for a different day.)
I started this journey at well over 400 pounds, so the scenery along the way is very familiar to me. But my life kinda kicked me in the shins the last few years, and...to be brutally truthful...I've kinda half-assed it and used bankruptcy, Stewey's death, moving out of my house, Jersey Boy's arrival, and just about everything else I could think of get in the way.
What can I say? I eat when I am happy, sad, angry, joyful, calm, stressed, bored, tired, cranky, organized, hungry, bloated, sick, well, and when the minute hand moves on the clock. I love to read about food, think about menus, plan dishes, shop, cook, chop, broil, grill, and sautee anything remotely related to anything edible. I love Ina, Martha, Guy, Rachel, and Robert as though they were related to me, and every time I go into my tiny little kitchen I pretend I'm coming to you live from the Hamptons.
My mom was Greek and my dad was Italian, and their fathers were both in the restaurant business in some way...whether it was the Washington restaurant in Lima, Ohio (Grandpa Loukos) or Rich's sandwich shop in Phoenix, Arizona (Grandpa Rich)...I come by my love of food honestly. Aunts on both sides of the family are gourmet chefs, my mom could hold her own, and even Dad was known for his skills in the kitchen.
It runs deep.
But now, I have to face the fact that being jolly and portly and curvy and rolly polly and big enough for my own zip code might be cute and part of the SpinsterStitcher charm, but the reality of being a 300-pound hummingbird are getting in the way of me not dropping dead at the ripe old age of 53.
My plan (physician and dietician approved) is simple. Two meal replacement shakes/smoothies per day followed by a salad with three ounces of protein for dinner. Until I exhaust my supply of Oikos triple zero yogurt, almond milk, and frozen fruit, I will use that for smoothie ingredients, and then it will be Boost Glucose control (but not the high protein ones) shakes.
When this twenty comes off, I will be able to slowly get back to my normal way of eating, which is actually quite good for maintenance and nutrition, but I will literally cut everything I eat in half, and I'll go back to enjoying an occasional treat day with a cheeseburger. My food diary looks like that of a nun in training for a triathlon, so we know I'm doing all of the right things, but my system needs a bit of a ZAP to get it losing again.
Yes, I know, I know...the dreaded e-word is also part of this, but can I just point out that I have loathed exercise from the moment I emerged into the world? The heat and humidity don't help me any, but given the fact that I have both a swimming pool and air conditioned gym at my disposal, I am now officially "an exerciser".
(But I reserve the right to bitch and moan and complain about it endlessly, and long as my heiney is doing it. The moment I stop...I promise to zip. the. lip.)
So, Dearies...the gauntlet has been thrown and Yours Truly has picked it up. I will report my progress on this here blog each and every Friday after treatment. You will get the good, the bad, and the ugly, which I hope soon becomes the ecstatic, the thin, and the healthy!
And yes, in case you were wondering, this here blog post has been the most intimate, brutally honest, scary, awful thing I have ever attempted in eleven years of blogging. I can, though, think of no other way to hold myself accountable than to reveal my soft fat underbelly to you, God, and everybody else. No. More. Hiding. Behind. A. Cartoon.
(Who...by the way is at goal weight. The minute I hit 160, I'm commissioning a SpinsterStitcher catsuit, cape, and mask.)
Enough.
Enough talking and writing and joking and planning and plotting about it. Time to get to work.
Happy Thursday! Do something loving and kind and brave and come tell me all about it!
My life history has been on a diet. I have done every single program, pill, video, card, and meeting available and have enjoyed and been successful on each, including the three-day hot dog diet.
Remember that one?
You basically ate air for two and a half days, and then you got to have a hot dog for dinner on day three.
Well, I might have forgotten the finer points, but I know that Valerie Murino and I did it in the eighth grade and she lost six pounds and I gained eight.
Now that I am who I am...53...peri-menopausal (any day now, please God)...sans thyroid and three parathyroids (thank you thyroid cancer)...a Crohn's patient (gd prednisone)...and in end stage renal failure (thus, dialysis), it takes a village to keep me on track.
Dialysis makes dieting tricky, because the kidneys do so much related to weight loss and gain in terms of fluids, toxins, and minerals and vitamins. On any given day, my weight can fluctuate as much as ten or twelve pounds, depending on the comings and goings of those three things.
This doesn't mean anything other than the fact that everything I know about diet and nutrition gets turned on its head a bit. But, my dialysis unit (like all, I would imagine) provides me with a dietician to help me navigate.
I have three little goals to hit in the next month that are crucial: at five pounds lost, living donors can begin their testing process to see if they are eligible to donate a kidney either to me or to a paired-donation chain that I am on. (This means that I might not get that exact kidney, but one that matches me from somebody on the chain.) At ten pounds, I can repeat all of my testing to make sure that there aren't any underlying issues going on that would prompt rejection, and at twenty pounds I can look the surgeon in the face and say GO.
(GO in my world means becoming active and moving up the UNOS list for kidney transplant. I have accrued two full years on the list, but active status puts me in an entirely different checkout lane, especially if I have a living donor come forward. I had been kinda hanging out on the inactive list when my sister fell through, and I don't think it takes a team of psychiatrists to figure out why. Somehow, I guess I got it in my head that I wasn't worthy of a kidney...but these are stories for a different day.)
I started this journey at well over 400 pounds, so the scenery along the way is very familiar to me. But my life kinda kicked me in the shins the last few years, and...to be brutally truthful...I've kinda half-assed it and used bankruptcy, Stewey's death, moving out of my house, Jersey Boy's arrival, and just about everything else I could think of get in the way.
What can I say? I eat when I am happy, sad, angry, joyful, calm, stressed, bored, tired, cranky, organized, hungry, bloated, sick, well, and when the minute hand moves on the clock. I love to read about food, think about menus, plan dishes, shop, cook, chop, broil, grill, and sautee anything remotely related to anything edible. I love Ina, Martha, Guy, Rachel, and Robert as though they were related to me, and every time I go into my tiny little kitchen I pretend I'm coming to you live from the Hamptons.
My mom was Greek and my dad was Italian, and their fathers were both in the restaurant business in some way...whether it was the Washington restaurant in Lima, Ohio (Grandpa Loukos) or Rich's sandwich shop in Phoenix, Arizona (Grandpa Rich)...I come by my love of food honestly. Aunts on both sides of the family are gourmet chefs, my mom could hold her own, and even Dad was known for his skills in the kitchen.
It runs deep.
But now, I have to face the fact that being jolly and portly and curvy and rolly polly and big enough for my own zip code might be cute and part of the SpinsterStitcher charm, but the reality of being a 300-pound hummingbird are getting in the way of me not dropping dead at the ripe old age of 53.
My plan (physician and dietician approved) is simple. Two meal replacement shakes/smoothies per day followed by a salad with three ounces of protein for dinner. Until I exhaust my supply of Oikos triple zero yogurt, almond milk, and frozen fruit, I will use that for smoothie ingredients, and then it will be Boost Glucose control (but not the high protein ones) shakes.
When this twenty comes off, I will be able to slowly get back to my normal way of eating, which is actually quite good for maintenance and nutrition, but I will literally cut everything I eat in half, and I'll go back to enjoying an occasional treat day with a cheeseburger. My food diary looks like that of a nun in training for a triathlon, so we know I'm doing all of the right things, but my system needs a bit of a ZAP to get it losing again.
Yes, I know, I know...the dreaded e-word is also part of this, but can I just point out that I have loathed exercise from the moment I emerged into the world? The heat and humidity don't help me any, but given the fact that I have both a swimming pool and air conditioned gym at my disposal, I am now officially "an exerciser".
(But I reserve the right to bitch and moan and complain about it endlessly, and long as my heiney is doing it. The moment I stop...I promise to zip. the. lip.)
So, Dearies...the gauntlet has been thrown and Yours Truly has picked it up. I will report my progress on this here blog each and every Friday after treatment. You will get the good, the bad, and the ugly, which I hope soon becomes the ecstatic, the thin, and the healthy!
And yes, in case you were wondering, this here blog post has been the most intimate, brutally honest, scary, awful thing I have ever attempted in eleven years of blogging. I can, though, think of no other way to hold myself accountable than to reveal my soft fat underbelly to you, God, and everybody else. No. More. Hiding. Behind. A. Cartoon.
(Who...by the way is at goal weight. The minute I hit 160, I'm commissioning a SpinsterStitcher catsuit, cape, and mask.)
Enough.
Enough talking and writing and joking and planning and plotting about it. Time to get to work.
Happy Thursday! Do something loving and kind and brave and come tell me all about it!
Aug 7, 2019
BUILDING HOUSES WITH A NEW VIEW TODAY
My iPad thingie is running low on juice, and SOMEBODY left her charger in Lima, so I'll keep it short today.
Houses are being constructed on Cherry Tree Lane and I have a lovely view of the fountain today, so all is well.
I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your loving and funny (Fatima....teehee!) thoughts on Tubbykins here. I will see the nutritionist again today to make sure I don't do anything stupid, and this twenty pounds will a distant memory before we known it. Nothing radical, I promise. Just me sitting up in the oversized buggy and paying better attention.
Happy Futzingday, Dearies! Do something fabulous and come tell me all about it!
Aug 6, 2019
DOES ANYBODY KNOW WHO THE PATRON SAINT OF WEIGHT LOSS MIGHT BE?
Twenty pounds.
Twenty stupid blessed rassafrattin bloody damn pounds.
OK, Dearies. I need you all to summon whatever supernatural powers or prayers or voodoo or witchcraft that you have at your disposal to help me lose twenty pounds.
Twenty pounds.
At this moment, my life depends on it.
I have a plan and am going to follow that plan to within an inch of its life, but a little extra help never hurt anybody, especially a 53-year old pre-menopausal rolly polly spinster with no thyroid and who needs a new kidney.
So...let the adventure begin!
Twenty stupid blessed rassafrattin bloody damn pounds.
OK, Dearies. I need you all to summon whatever supernatural powers or prayers or voodoo or witchcraft that you have at your disposal to help me lose twenty pounds.
Twenty pounds.
At this moment, my life depends on it.
I have a plan and am going to follow that plan to within an inch of its life, but a little extra help never hurt anybody, especially a 53-year old pre-menopausal rolly polly spinster with no thyroid and who needs a new kidney.
So...let the adventure begin!
Aug 5, 2019
BACK IN THE SADDLE...
I'm in the d-chair letting Buzzy and Beepy do their thing today, Dearies. Sorry I didn't write sooner, but by the time we made it home from Lima I was just wrung out like a chubby, weepy, over-emotional little sponge.
The weekend was a combination of the highest highs and the lowest lows. I was either crying tears of joy and nostalgia or tears of sorrow and horror. El Paso and Dayton are both cities close to my heart, and I suppose the only thing I could do is hug my peoples just that much tighter and whisper an I love you in their ears.
The people I spent the weekend with aren't my high school classmates.
They're not my friends.
They. Are. My. Family.
They're not my friends.
They. Are. My. Family.
I joked that I'm their crazy spinster sister, but that was more truth than not. I rejoice with their triumphs and mourn with them during their losses. I can probably tell you more about their kids and spouses and careers and vacations and graduations and lives than about my own. They are special and brilliant and wonderful and....
Family.
Saturday was the Grand Tour for my Jersey Boy. First up was St. Charles...the grade school of Yours Truly that I attended from sixth through eighth grades:
Next up was high school. Lima Central Catholic...home of the Thunderbirds:
And finally, 1522 Bunker Drive. The childhood and adolescent homestead of The Spinster Stitcher, Aunt Chrissy, and Bob and Sig Rich Their Very Selves:
I took the close-up of the front porch because my mom used to hang enormous ferns there, and I see that the current resident is continuing the tradition....something that would have made her very happy.
(The little white dog was just a magic reminder of You Know Who.)
I was a weepy, sweaty, nervous, chattery mess for three straight days, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant one more hug or one more kiss or one more I love you.
My heart is full
Aug 2, 2019
GOING HOME
As soon as Buzzy and Beepy are finished doing their thing, Magoo and I are going to pile into the car and head to Lima, Ohio for my 35th high school reunion. I am so excited to see my LCC family I can hardly stand it...
I'll see you on the other side! Happy, happy weekend, Dearies! Do everything that blows your skirt up and come tell me all about it!
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 28, 2019
SUNDAY SPLAT
That sound you heard was every ounce of energy I had falling out of me and hitting the pavement.
Phooey.
I had such a fantastic week, but about an hour ago my wheels fell right off and I wanted to sit down on the floor of the breakfast restaurant and bawl my eyes out. We went to Mass, ran a few errands, and stopped to eat, and I swear the fatigue and unwells hit me all at once.
Plus, it's hot as YouKnowWhat here again, so I suspect that this is just another case of the ugly humidities.
My JB is at the pool and I have decided to stay right here in the La-Z-Spinster recliner with the paper, the end of my book, a start on Mary Poppins, and the laundry sploshing for company. Lovie has already announced that he would like to have something light and easy for dinner, so I am off the cooking hook and can just rest and relax for the duration.
I hope your Sunday is lovely and swell, Dearies, and that you get to do whatever your heart desires and your body and soul require! Come tell me all about it!
Phooey.
I had such a fantastic week, but about an hour ago my wheels fell right off and I wanted to sit down on the floor of the breakfast restaurant and bawl my eyes out. We went to Mass, ran a few errands, and stopped to eat, and I swear the fatigue and unwells hit me all at once.
Plus, it's hot as YouKnowWhat here again, so I suspect that this is just another case of the ugly humidities.
My JB is at the pool and I have decided to stay right here in the La-Z-Spinster recliner with the paper, the end of my book, a start on Mary Poppins, and the laundry sploshing for company. Lovie has already announced that he would like to have something light and easy for dinner, so I am off the cooking hook and can just rest and relax for the duration.
I hope your Sunday is lovely and swell, Dearies, and that you get to do whatever your heart desires and your body and soul require! Come tell me all about it!
Jul 27, 2019
IN WHICH WE HAVE AN ADVENTURE
I blame it on the Michael's.
They had beach chairs on sale for $15.
Beach chairs.
For $15.
At the Michael's!
They were normally $50 each, but the sign said 70% off and I had my calculator out so fast I broke a sweat all over my SpinsterStitcher big girl t-shirt. I put them in my cart, got the flosses I needed and an 11x11 qsnap set and hit the register.
Then guess what we did?
They had beach chairs on sale for $15.
Beach chairs.
For $15.
At the Michael's!
They were normally $50 each, but the sign said 70% off and I had my calculator out so fast I broke a sweat all over my SpinsterStitcher big girl t-shirt. I put them in my cart, got the flosses I needed and an 11x11 qsnap set and hit the register.
Then guess what we did?
SATURDAY SWITCH UP
I'm still loving Plum Pudding, but decided to switch it up a bit.
Isn't this swell?! I first laid eyes on this during a StitchCon episode that featured the brag table. I just about jumped out of the d-chair when I did, and think I had it ordered before I knew what hit me.
This was my very first pdf download, and I have to say...the instant gratification was fantastic.
Here are the details:
Mary Poppins
Designer: Laura Rimola
The Little Stitcher
Website: http://thelittlestitcher.blogspot.com
I have the perfect piece of Colour & Cotton fabric for this, but alas, am short a few of the called for DMC colors. So as soon as I get my wits about me, I'm going to head over to the Michael's and snatch them right up.
So that's my plan for the day, Dearies. What's new in your world today? Come tell me all about it!
Jul 26, 2019
FRIDAY!....WITH ADDED BLISS!
I'm home from the d-chair! Great treatment today! Lower off weight than last Friday! Starbucks! A novel! Happy, happy, joy joy!
I hope you have a wonderful weekend, Dearies! I am going to enjoy my book, have a light dinner and then look forward to nothing but sun, stitching, and good eating! What's on your to-do list for the next few days?
**Dang it, Gumby, I can't figure out how to respond to comments on my own dang blog! Robin asked what I'm reading....it's a novel titled The Editor by Steven Rowley. I pick a stack of books from the New Fiction section or the Just In shelf when I go to the library, and this one caught my eye. Light summer reading and hasn't made my brain hurt so far!
***I do keep a log of books I've read on the GoodReads thing as well as in a very old journal, but I don't know how to tell you to find me...by email address maybe? In that case, it would be under conijorich@aol.com.
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