Ever since I took Gunnar to Yuri's Night and Maker Faire, he is obsessed with Make Magazine's YouTube clips of building things, robots, rockets, bikes, you name it he asks if we can build one. Today Eric indulged him and they built a Foxhole Radio.
Yesterday we took a trip to Radio Shack for the wire. A few years ago I bought Eric an electronics kit which came with an ear piece that turned out to be perfect for this project. Everything else was easily found around the house. Here are some pictures of their efforts:
I got the results of my biopsy today and all signs point to benign. I still have to follow up with the gastrointestinologist when he gets back from vacation because my primary doctor wants his specialized opinion as to whether I should go in for a colonoscopy yearly or every three years from now on and whether or not I'm at risk for Familial Polyposis.
The first finding in my colonoscopy was that I have a redundant colon. This means I have more colon than I need so it loops back over itself. Generally this isn't a big concern and just means its easier for me to get constipated than your average person.
The second finding was scattered Diverticulosis or weak spots in my colon. One of these weak spots is located in my cecum which is pretty rare (5%). Again not something to really worry about, just keep an eye on. Glad to have finally figured out why I get really bad abdominal pains though since pain due to diverticulitis is often mistaken for appendicitis.
The third finding is a little disturbing, they found three polyps, two of which were 1cm while one was 5mm. All three were removed and sent to the lab for biopsy. One of these showed signs of having been the cause of the dorkus husbandus examining my poop as described in my last post.
While I'm glad they found everything seemingly early and most likely I have nothing to worry about, I hate the idea that I have to do this every three to five years from now on. Though, If it means continuing to be here for myself, the dorkus husbandus, and G-man I'll do it as often as needed.
Today I'm doing something that scares me. I'm going in for my first colonoscopy. Yeah, I'm only 35, but I'm a level 3 risk for colorectal cancer since my dad passed away at the age of 53 from rectal cancer. The doctors determined that he had had the tumor for a good 3-5 years prior to diagnosis, which means he developed his polyps and full blown cancer before the age of 50. Thats significant because the current cancer screening guidelines are that people should start getting checked for this type of cancer at the age of 50. Now I love my dad, but he was a procrastinator to the highest level and because of this he waited way too long to go to the doctor and ignored the signs his body was putting out (blood in his stool, change in poop habits, and unexplained abdominal cramps). If he had listened, the doctors may have caught it sooner and all the treatments we tried might have been successful.
Being truly my father's daughter, a few weeks ago when I saw blood on my poop (not on the toilet paper), I pretended I didn't and I ignored it. It must have been something I ate, its the stress, its psychosomatic - these are the things I told myself. Until it happened twice more over the next two weeks. At that point, I worked up the courage to talk to the dorkus husbandus about it. Ladies, you do not know love until you can openly ask your husband to come look at your poop and tell you if that is indeed blood coming off it. Yeah there was an immediate look of fear in his eyes. I could tell he was trying to mask it but it was there as plain as day for a few seconds. We made plans for me to talk with my doctor the next day and went to bed a little less bullet-proof that night.
Long story short, less than a week after dragging the dorkus husbandus in to view my poop, my doctor and the gastrointestinologist were concerned enough to warrant a look-see, which in my case means a colonoscopy. This means after not eating anything aside from clear liquids for 24 hours, I drink at least three liters of a saline bicarbonate based solution (in 3.5 hours) and then another 10 oz of Magnesium Citrate and don't go too far away from a bathroom. Next, I'll head down to the office and they'll give me some sleepy drugs in an IV and stick a camera tube in and see what the deal is. The good news is, if they do find any of those pesky pre-cancerous polyps they remove them right then and there. While I'm not looking forward to this at all, it must be done and then there will be solid food again!
On days when G doesn't nap, our household is often faced with the impending meltdown cloud of doom. Watching your child meltdown can be at once aggravating and amusing. The amusing part occurs only when its in the relative comfort and privacy of your own home and thus far from the hairy eyeballs of other people. Last night's episode was pretty epic because it shows the loop that occurs as his sleep deprived 3.5 year old brain struggles with wanting something unattainable...
Scene is late dinner time. Food has been eaten and ice cream is in order.
G-man: I want one of those crunchy things Papa was eating.
j3n: Crunchy things, the egg rolls?
G-man: Yeah, an egg roll. Can I please have an egg roll?
j3n: Sorry G, but Papa ate all of them, would you like some
rainbow ice cream for dessert?
G-man: I don’t want ice cream I just want an egg roll!
*Commence minutes of tearful demands for egg rolls, huge alligator tears with hiccuping included. Both parents eyeballing each other while trying really hard not to laugh at the egg roll meltdown because the sprog is so fierce in his belief that he *needs* the egg roll or life as he knows it will be utterly lacking forever and who knew the lack of egg rolls could be this traumatizing, seriously?*
j3n: Okay that’s enough with the egg roll demands. You need to calm down. You are
getting too worked up. Let’s try something else, how about I make you egg rolls for
lunch tomorrow, okay?
G-man: NO! I REALLY WANT AN EGG ROLL
RIGHT NOW!
*G-man gets much deserved time out in bedroom*
j3n: Are you done? Are you ready to come out now?
G-man: Yeah, but Mama - can I please just have an egg roll?
Eric: I'm gonna tickle your belly button!
G: You can't Papa, its locked.
Eric: Well how do I unlock it?
G: You have to play another level to unlock my belly button.
G: Mama, I have a gold star sticker for you
j3n: You do, why?
G: You get a gold star for being a good Mama today!
Grandma Jen: Hrmmm, I can't find the peanut butter
G: I can help you find it because my brain is not on vacation anymore.
j3n: Wow, its really hot out today
G: It is too hot out for my brain
Debbie: Sorry G, sometimes women can be difficult (her daughter was not sharing with G)
G: Tell me about it (said very matter of fact-ly)
Oh no! I forgot my compass so if we get lost we are just gonna be lost forever!
I love Mama and Papa, and Laswell, and Grammy, and Grandpere, and Grandma Jen, and Papa Mike, and Grandma Cindy and *sigh* Oh I just love everybody in the whole world!
I love watching you grow with our son. Playing along side him. Kissing his hurts. Teaching him everything you know. Sharing his life. Being his Papa. I had no idea our boy would tap into an unknown well of my love for you. Don't stop growing because I'm already in love with who you're becoming.
xoxo,
j3n
This is how we spent our morning:
Losing my dad has been a truly traumatic experience. I knew it was coming, but I didn’t expect it this soon or to hurt so much. People say in time, the hurt will fade, only to be replaced by positive memories that will give comfort. I think I can feel that beginning to happen.
Maybe it's because my dad and I came to have a simple and loving relationship. With
him, what you saw -- was what you got. He lived without pretense and gave of
his heart completely. He had more "best friends" than I can count,
because he made everyone feel like his best friend. As far as I could tell, dad
never really treated anyone differently from anyone else. He was a person of
many lives, a man who understood a hard day's work and a hard night’s play. He
never graduated high school, instead picking up a trade and working to support
his family. He worked pretty much his entire life on two things: tuning engines
and taping mud.
To see his true accomplishment, take a look around you, look at all the friends and family who have gathered in his honor. Dad was one of those rare people who could walk both sides of the tracks. He was a very talented and intelligent man, one who could talk about all manner of things from fishing, to engines, to politics, to the latest movies and music. The only thing he had a hard time talking about until he got sick was his love.
As one of his children, I was the lucky beneficiary of so much of that love. My dad poured vast amounts of it into me during my most formative years. That is why I measure it in the size of his hands. Because what I remember most about my dad are those sandpaper-rough hands, made rugged from construction work. From my earliest days, he took my hand in his and we discovered the world together.
With his hand in mine, I always felt safe, I always had fun. Anyone who knows my dad knows he loved music. We went to so many concerts. I was the envy of all my friends and quite a few adults because I went to Day on the Green, Mountain Aire, and any other festival shows that happened. Dad also loved racing and engines - drag racing, jet cars, super bikes, funny cars, outlaws, Nascar or Indy; you name it we went and saw it at some point. We went on camping trips all over California. He taught me to shoot pool so we could play together. He bought me my first motorcycle, a Yamaha 80 and I remember the pride in his eyes when I was able to ride it around without fear.
We fished together, in boats, off riverbanks and bridges, in rivers and lakes,
with worms and fish eggs. We went to gritty places not meant for little girls;
dirt racing tracks, The San Jose Mile, Sears Point and Laguna Seca to name a
few. I remember the huge grin on Dad’s face when being 6 or 7; I would
challenge the men rooting for my favorite driver’s rival! The ice cream we bought
with my winnings was always the best ever!
And I remember these things as if we had done them all last weekend -- because
we did them again and again and again, his outstretched hand leading me
everywhere. I remember my times with my dad as vividly as a great piece of
music where you know every word, every note, and every solo taken by every
member of the band. You know it until it becomes part of you.
He did that for me, and because he did, we will always travel together. As dad neared death, I put my hand in his as often as I could. I wanted him to know that I was with him on his final journey on earth.
The loss of my dad has been painful, yet also strangely reaffirming because it has made me ever more aware of the bond between us. Perhaps the most consoling words came from a friend of mine: "Think of the legacy he left you -- a curiosity about life, a hunger for knowledge, a passion for the outdoors, an example of a life whose riches owe little to money. Those are all great gifts that he passed to you and you can pass them to Gunnar.” I promise you dad, I will.
Someone once wrote that when people died, they went into the hearts of those who loved them. Just look into the eyes of the people all around you and you’ll see my dad is still alive in each of us.
