Thursday, January 24, 2019
Friday, December 31, 2010
Mack Edward
Yesterday, Dec. 30, 2010, at 8:02 a.m. Mack Edward Felt was born. Our first grandson, our second grandchild.
We are grandparents.
Grandparents.
And our son is a father. Our daughter, a mother.
This life chain continues.
Lucas and Melissa called from the car on their way to the hospital. We had texted throughout the day. Contractions seven minutes a part. We learned later she had shopped, returning shirts from Brooks Brothers that were too short in the sleeve for Lucas. Climbing the stairs to their third-floor condo. Unsure that this could be the real thing. So, when we talked to them enroute they were light-hearted. Chatty. Convinced they would be sent back home. No doubt false labor.
That was 9:30ish Thursday evening. Maybe. Then a text that she had been admitted. This was the real thing. Then we learned later in the evening, now early on Dec. 30, my mother's birthday, that hard labor had ensued and an epidural was going to be administered.
At 7:30 Pacific time, I texted a tentative "OK?" and less than an hour later came a photograph of newborn Mack. Long arms like his father. Long legs. Beautiful color. Gorgeous lips and a pug nose.
the thing about this grandparent experience is it catapults you back to the moment when the earth tilted on its axis and you became a parent. To the moment when that child is experiencing in their way but in a universal way that moment of birth. And for a moment I was in Norton's Children's Hospital in Louisville on a muggy, hot July morning with Dr. Lavery announcing that we had a boy. A boy. A son. The first male in my small McGaw clan in 51 years (I was so good to my parents to give them grandchildren at such a young age.) They put Lucas' warm, wet body on my stomach and I remember thinking how silky he felt. How alive. Lucas got to cut the umbilical cord and he hasn't left the side of his wife or son since. Nor will he.
They will occupy their posh digs in the impressive Northwestern Unversity Prentice Maternity Center for another 24 hours and then venture out into their home, its nursery painted, prepped, outfitted for the arrival of their son and for the start of this time when their universe tilts anew on its axis.
As has ours.
So Happy New Year. It's been nine months since last I posted. Then it was to write about Grace's birth. And now Mack's.
Two names that a year ago at this time weren't stitched in my heart, she said, sounding so like a grandmother.
We are grandparents.
Grandparents.
And our son is a father. Our daughter, a mother.
This life chain continues.
Lucas and Melissa called from the car on their way to the hospital. We had texted throughout the day. Contractions seven minutes a part. We learned later she had shopped, returning shirts from Brooks Brothers that were too short in the sleeve for Lucas. Climbing the stairs to their third-floor condo. Unsure that this could be the real thing. So, when we talked to them enroute they were light-hearted. Chatty. Convinced they would be sent back home. No doubt false labor.
That was 9:30ish Thursday evening. Maybe. Then a text that she had been admitted. This was the real thing. Then we learned later in the evening, now early on Dec. 30, my mother's birthday, that hard labor had ensued and an epidural was going to be administered.
At 7:30 Pacific time, I texted a tentative "OK?" and less than an hour later came a photograph of newborn Mack. Long arms like his father. Long legs. Beautiful color. Gorgeous lips and a pug nose.
the thing about this grandparent experience is it catapults you back to the moment when the earth tilted on its axis and you became a parent. To the moment when that child is experiencing in their way but in a universal way that moment of birth. And for a moment I was in Norton's Children's Hospital in Louisville on a muggy, hot July morning with Dr. Lavery announcing that we had a boy. A boy. A son. The first male in my small McGaw clan in 51 years (I was so good to my parents to give them grandchildren at such a young age.) They put Lucas' warm, wet body on my stomach and I remember thinking how silky he felt. How alive. Lucas got to cut the umbilical cord and he hasn't left the side of his wife or son since. Nor will he.
They will occupy their posh digs in the impressive Northwestern Unversity Prentice Maternity Center for another 24 hours and then venture out into their home, its nursery painted, prepped, outfitted for the arrival of their son and for the start of this time when their universe tilts anew on its axis.
As has ours.
So Happy New Year. It's been nine months since last I posted. Then it was to write about Grace's birth. And now Mack's.
Two names that a year ago at this time weren't stitched in my heart, she said, sounding so like a grandmother.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Grace
Today (now tomorrow in England) our granddaughter was born at 9 a.m. March 20 in Portland Hospital in London. She was delivered C-section. Her father cut the cord. Her mother nursed her and those of us on the other side of the Atlantic forwarded each other the photographs that her father quickly posted on the internet. We heard her cry. We heard her father wonder for the first time if something might be wrong and we heard ourselves gasp at the glorious sound of our granddaughter's voice. Lusty, strong and adamant.
Her Aunt Melissa and her Uncle Lucas cooed across the ocean to bid her welcome and I ordered what will be the first of endless copies of photographs of Grace just to hold and share with those who will indulge me.
We have become grandparents and I am beside myself.
Her Aunt Melissa and her Uncle Lucas cooed across the ocean to bid her welcome and I ordered what will be the first of endless copies of photographs of Grace just to hold and share with those who will indulge me.
We have become grandparents and I am beside myself.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
If we were having coffee
We'd be on our third cup of coffee by now. Or I would. And you would have patiently listened to me trying to catch you up on the surgeries, the upcoming birth, the rain here, Winston's mental state and my expanding shallow knowledge.
We had the second eye surgery. As you will recall the first one failed because of bad donor cornea cell tissue. The second one took. And reminded me how splendid it is to be in the presence and the recipient of superb nursing care and physician skill.
We continue putting the patch on at night and four drops of eye medicine daily. But, so far, so good.
Ken had an epidural last Friday. Basically, that means a shot in the dura of his spine to calm and numb frayed nerves in his lower back. More up and down with that. But it takes two weeks to know if this has worked.
Amanda will most likely deliver Grace by C-section because of a rather indelicate complication. Look up perianal fistula. She has one. It became abcessed. Had to be drained and now the dressing changed daily and she'll need surgery after Grace is born. (I'm pretty sure they will name this child Grace, but lately Chloe and Charlotte have been spoken as possibilities.) Amanda is doing well but the doctors are probably going to err on the side of caution and forego any possibility of tearing,e tc. w/ a C-section.
It has rained here for what seems like 3 months. At least for two weekends in a row. I am most grateful for rain. I need to be. We live in a desert and we are in a drought. But I feel like I've moved to Seattle. It's March. We here in Phoenix are use to blue skies, endless sunny skies and watering grass, plants and flowers as if we lived in Seattle. So, I feel guilty whining about rain. Other evolved souls here squeal in delight at the rain. I don't, but I try not to sulk either.
Lucas, Melissa and Melissa's brother Jeremy arrive tomorrow for Jeremy's spring break. We will show him Sedona, hopefully sunshine and the weather about which I am unduly proud and fine Mexican food. At 6 we will move from sipping coffee to sipping wine.
Life is good.
Forgive me for the absence. Since I follow four other bloggers fairly religiously I know that I get a little irked when they take more than two weeks off.
And as we are leaving the little coffee shop, I will mention in passing my addictions to The Wire. It's like crack. I have to rent only a few DVDs at a time. And The Good Wife. It's the one show I won't quit watching to talk to my children unless of course it was an emergency.
And I'd say get Abide With Me. It's by the author of Olive Kittridge. Then we could talk about it.
We had the second eye surgery. As you will recall the first one failed because of bad donor cornea cell tissue. The second one took. And reminded me how splendid it is to be in the presence and the recipient of superb nursing care and physician skill.
We continue putting the patch on at night and four drops of eye medicine daily. But, so far, so good.
Ken had an epidural last Friday. Basically, that means a shot in the dura of his spine to calm and numb frayed nerves in his lower back. More up and down with that. But it takes two weeks to know if this has worked.
Amanda will most likely deliver Grace by C-section because of a rather indelicate complication. Look up perianal fistula. She has one. It became abcessed. Had to be drained and now the dressing changed daily and she'll need surgery after Grace is born. (I'm pretty sure they will name this child Grace, but lately Chloe and Charlotte have been spoken as possibilities.) Amanda is doing well but the doctors are probably going to err on the side of caution and forego any possibility of tearing,e tc. w/ a C-section.
It has rained here for what seems like 3 months. At least for two weekends in a row. I am most grateful for rain. I need to be. We live in a desert and we are in a drought. But I feel like I've moved to Seattle. It's March. We here in Phoenix are use to blue skies, endless sunny skies and watering grass, plants and flowers as if we lived in Seattle. So, I feel guilty whining about rain. Other evolved souls here squeal in delight at the rain. I don't, but I try not to sulk either.
Lucas, Melissa and Melissa's brother Jeremy arrive tomorrow for Jeremy's spring break. We will show him Sedona, hopefully sunshine and the weather about which I am unduly proud and fine Mexican food. At 6 we will move from sipping coffee to sipping wine.
Life is good.
Forgive me for the absence. Since I follow four other bloggers fairly religiously I know that I get a little irked when they take more than two weeks off.
And as we are leaving the little coffee shop, I will mention in passing my addictions to The Wire. It's like crack. I have to rent only a few DVDs at a time. And The Good Wife. It's the one show I won't quit watching to talk to my children unless of course it was an emergency.
And I'd say get Abide With Me. It's by the author of Olive Kittridge. Then we could talk about it.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Back on the Jet Plane
Chuck is headed back to Columbus. He's leaving on a jet plane. He came out here to help us through Ken's eye surgery.
He has done that.
Since he's been here we've:
Consumed 12 gallons of fresh squooze orange and grapefruit juice.
Realized you can use a golf club to shake citrus from the trees.
Developed a fondness for Progresso soup, especially Tomato Basil. (He brought 6 cans with him.)
Redeveloped an appetite for candy, popcorn, thriftstore shopping.
Increased our already large book selection by 20 more books Chuck is leaving behind.
Been to our first Saturday's farmers' market where we were fortunate enough to have only $20 cash on hand.
Become hooked on The Wire.
Watched the finals of two stockcar races and found the drivers very cute.
Introduced Chuck to Tess and the Golden Greek.
Discovered Chuck is no fan of sauteed kale.
Celebrated that Ken can now indeed see from his left eye, declaring the second surgery a complete success.
He has done that.
Since he's been here we've:
Consumed 12 gallons of fresh squooze orange and grapefruit juice.
Realized you can use a golf club to shake citrus from the trees.
Developed a fondness for Progresso soup, especially Tomato Basil. (He brought 6 cans with him.)
Redeveloped an appetite for candy, popcorn, thriftstore shopping.
Increased our already large book selection by 20 more books Chuck is leaving behind.
Been to our first Saturday's farmers' market where we were fortunate enough to have only $20 cash on hand.
Become hooked on The Wire.
Watched the finals of two stockcar races and found the drivers very cute.
Introduced Chuck to Tess and the Golden Greek.
Discovered Chuck is no fan of sauteed kale.
Celebrated that Ken can now indeed see from his left eye, declaring the second surgery a complete success.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Dr. Bob
I have shallow knowledge about many things, but not about hospitals, nursing care and post-op care. All of which we experienced yesterday.
Here's the update.
Ken's second eye surgery to replace the bad corneal pumper cell donated tissue with a fresh new one went splendidly. This morning when we saw Dr. Bob (the affectionate name for the eye surgeon who is now our hero) Ken could read not just the big E on the chart but the second line too. (When we went for the post-op check the morning after this same surgery in November he could make out the nurse's three fingers having failed to see the big E let alone the line of letters underneath it.)
We left with three bottles of eyedrops, detailed instructions along with a dose chart (something not given by the other doctor the first time around) and Dr. Bob's cell phone number. (Certainly not anything I was given the first time. Although, in fairness, I didn't ask how I would get hold of the doctor over the weekend if something happened. Dr. Bob offered his cell phone and said please don't hesitate to call me. I know.)
Yesterday, the nurses were arguing over helping Ken through his pre-op stuff because they loved working with Dr. Bob and his gas guy, Dr. Peter. They had each had these two men do surgeries on them. They would have no other. Now, neither would we.
In the midst of this is Chuck. He got up at 5 after flying here yesterday and being stuck on the tarmak in Columbus and Memphis for de-icing. He waited with me until 11 a.m., with a break at Matt's Big Breakfast and a plate of their incredible organic thick-cut bacon and sourdough bread, for Ken to be transported back home.
When I got home, there was a tablecloth he had brought from Columbus (Mexican theme) on the dining room table. Candles lit, a cheese plate ready and a salad ready for tossing. We had leftover chili and cookies for dessert, something Chuck had brought with him.
We are on the mend here in Phoenix.
Here's the update.
Ken's second eye surgery to replace the bad corneal pumper cell donated tissue with a fresh new one went splendidly. This morning when we saw Dr. Bob (the affectionate name for the eye surgeon who is now our hero) Ken could read not just the big E on the chart but the second line too. (When we went for the post-op check the morning after this same surgery in November he could make out the nurse's three fingers having failed to see the big E let alone the line of letters underneath it.)
We left with three bottles of eyedrops, detailed instructions along with a dose chart (something not given by the other doctor the first time around) and Dr. Bob's cell phone number. (Certainly not anything I was given the first time. Although, in fairness, I didn't ask how I would get hold of the doctor over the weekend if something happened. Dr. Bob offered his cell phone and said please don't hesitate to call me. I know.)
Yesterday, the nurses were arguing over helping Ken through his pre-op stuff because they loved working with Dr. Bob and his gas guy, Dr. Peter. They had each had these two men do surgeries on them. They would have no other. Now, neither would we.
In the midst of this is Chuck. He got up at 5 after flying here yesterday and being stuck on the tarmak in Columbus and Memphis for de-icing. He waited with me until 11 a.m., with a break at Matt's Big Breakfast and a plate of their incredible organic thick-cut bacon and sourdough bread, for Ken to be transported back home.
When I got home, there was a tablecloth he had brought from Columbus (Mexican theme) on the dining room table. Candles lit, a cheese plate ready and a salad ready for tossing. We had leftover chili and cookies for dessert, something Chuck had brought with him.
We are on the mend here in Phoenix.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Chuck's arrival
For the second time in 10 years, my college roommate, matron of honor and dearest friend Margot is sending us Chuck.
Her husband is coming to help us navigate the second eye surgery. The first one didn't work. It appears that the donor pumper cell tissue was bad. So, Ken has been blind out of his left eye since before Thanksgiving as we've sorted out our next step.
The next step is Dr. Bullington who will lay a new layer of donated pumper cell tissue on Ken's
cornea, place a bubble over this new tissue to hold it in place, stitch things up and send Ken home. There he will spend the next 24 hours mostly on his back looking at the ceiling while Chuck cooks us luscious meals and brings his usual energy, crazy jokes and unbridled excitement over weird caps, thrift store finds and most anything he finds on the produce aisle.
The last time he came Ken had developed spinal meningitis right after fracturing his ankle. So, he was tethered to an IV pole for high powered antiobiotics and bound in a wheelchair. That time Chuck bought material to make a tablecloth, new napkins and made us chicken salad with fruit, his sweet potato fries and all kinds of calorie-laden desserts. Ken recovered, lost the IV and eventually the wheelchair but never the weight.
It was during this trip that Chuck discovered the Mormon thrift store. We'll go there this weekend after Ken's done lying on his back staring at the ceiling and hoping that this time the tissue transplant takes.
Thank you, Margot.
Her husband is coming to help us navigate the second eye surgery. The first one didn't work. It appears that the donor pumper cell tissue was bad. So, Ken has been blind out of his left eye since before Thanksgiving as we've sorted out our next step.
The next step is Dr. Bullington who will lay a new layer of donated pumper cell tissue on Ken's
cornea, place a bubble over this new tissue to hold it in place, stitch things up and send Ken home. There he will spend the next 24 hours mostly on his back looking at the ceiling while Chuck cooks us luscious meals and brings his usual energy, crazy jokes and unbridled excitement over weird caps, thrift store finds and most anything he finds on the produce aisle.
The last time he came Ken had developed spinal meningitis right after fracturing his ankle. So, he was tethered to an IV pole for high powered antiobiotics and bound in a wheelchair. That time Chuck bought material to make a tablecloth, new napkins and made us chicken salad with fruit, his sweet potato fries and all kinds of calorie-laden desserts. Ken recovered, lost the IV and eventually the wheelchair but never the weight.
It was during this trip that Chuck discovered the Mormon thrift store. We'll go there this weekend after Ken's done lying on his back staring at the ceiling and hoping that this time the tissue transplant takes.
Thank you, Margot.
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