Monday, February 28, 2011


Eleven years ago - give or take - I adopted a wee tiny kitten from the vet's office.  We named him squirt cause he was so small.  He soon came to be "king of the castle" ruling the roost around here - bossing Miss Ashes around and trying to boss me around.  He never much liked other males coming in the house - except for Sir whom he adopted the minute Sir walked in the house for the first time.  

Squirt had more than a little bit of the devil in him - eating houseplants - stealing food where ever he could find it - my own form of guard dog - watching carefully for intruders on our lil piece of land - hissing and howling if anyone or thing set one toe on what squirt considered his property

For the nine days I was in hospital he apparently spent most of the time lying on my bed not being the least bit social when anyone came in to check on him.  When I came home on Thursday it took a couple of hours for him to come and find me - I think he was punishing me for being absent for so long.  Then he came and curled up under the coffee table beside the sofa.  

Friday he started to walk funny and then he started vomiting everywhere and crying.  My heart broke - truthfully I wondered what more was going to be plunked on my plate.

I called the vet's office who suggested I wait till Saturday morning and see if he improved.  He didn't improve - in fact he got worse. His belly almost dragged on the ground when he walked and he was almost dragging his hind quarters.  And the crying was pathetic.... it broke my heart.  Sir was at the ready and showed up to take us both the vet's office.  

The vet examined him and explained that they thought his bladder was blocked.  They explained what they were going to have to do (plus how much it was gonna cost - sigh) and that ultimately squirt's heart might not handle the procedures.  

The hardest thing I have done in a long time was snuggling squirt and saying good bye leaving him in their very capable good hands  - with the warning no surgery - no heroics. 

I cried as Sir took me out to the car.

Late Saturday afternoon the vet's office called to say they had done the first draining and it had gone well.  Sunday morning they called me back to say they had had to drain him again two more times and had finally had to put a catheter in and they would try removing it late Sunday.   But he was drinking and had even eaten a little food out of the nurse's hand.  They were hopeful he could come home today.

BUT today they called me and things aren't looking very good.  His kidneys aren't functioning .... he isn't eating... and it is still touch and go.  They are going to try some more tests and will call me back.  

This is such a sad time

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Who's on First...... What's on Second???

When you are in hospital for any length of time - like 9 days in my case - you have a whole mess of time to think.  I hadn't been in hospital for over 30 years and obviously things have changed - I expected change - but not as much as I experienced.  

The doctors are young... baby young.... and they talk doctor language.  Honestly I don't think they have a clue how to talk to patients - us sick ones - in a language that is not scary or threatening or confusing.  They see the problem - disease - but not the person with it.  They see a puzzle/problem that needs to be fixed - but not the worry in the patient's eyes.  In fact I don't think they even look at the patient's eyes.  Last Saturday I had had enough of THEM guessing what was wrong - I took some control over my body - my disease.,  The next time my doctor came in - I summoned up the strength and focus to tell him what I thought.  And noticeably took the wind out of his sails.  In that conversation I told him pretty bluntly that he had to talk to me more.  And use normal every day language.  

There were so many staff members on the floor - all in neat lil uniforms that didn't give a hint to what job they were expected to do.  I would buzz for a nurse and a body would show up - it could have been a nurse or a PA (patient assistant - fancy term for god only knows ) an orderly or even a cleaner.  It was like the old TV show "What's my line?" 

It used to be that a nurse would be assigned to a floor or a patient (most times patient) you would have 1 nurse during the day - 1 during the afternoon shift - and one during the night shift.  And other than on their days off - you saw the same face every day - they got to know you and you got to know them.  There was a comfort to seeing familiar faces.

The rooms were cleaned by quiet cleaning staff every day - floors washed - garbage emptied - beds made - patient washed.  Not any more.  In fact I was expected to change my bed every day (or as I desired) I was expected to go and find the clean laundry in the hallway - I was expected to wash myself - hunt for a clean johnny shirt - and take care of as many of my basic needs as possible. (I am guessing this is thanks to our "free" medicine and probably some new philosophy on patient care) 

One night when I couldn't sleep and the night nurse came in to hook up my IV we got to chatting a little bit.  I mentioned how my mom used to work at a hospital here in town as the head of pediatrics.  The nurse looked at me as though I was from another planet and then I realized she wasn't old enough to even remember that hospital and that's when it hit me - I am OLD.

I realized I have crossed the boundary from young to old... and these young nurses/doctors/PAs/ orderlies have no point of reference for where I am coming from.  And dare I say - some of them - have little respect for the patients under their care.  That fact was brought home almost every night when I would be awakened from a sound sleep from laughter and loud chatter coming from the staff in the hallways.  I realize it might be their working shift - their day time - BUT it was sleeping time for the patients.  I certainly didn't need to know who was dating whom - or where the latest hot spot for partying was,  Absolutely no respect for the patients under their care.

All of this is not to say there weren't good excellent staff.  There was Annie - a head nurse I think or the equivalent of the old time head nurse - there was Irish a little Philippine nurse who joked she wasn't "Irish" - there was the nurse Steve who always had time to sit for a minute and hold a hand / chat or share a laugh.  There was Tasso the unobtrusive orderly who always seemed to know ahead of time when I needed more water or a clean face cloth and always had a smile.

But for the most part it feels as though our hospitals are businesses - with no customer care.  Their job is to fix the physical problem and ignore the emotional health of their patients.  Get 'em better and get 'em out the door as fast as possible.  

We may have made huge - HUGE - steps forward in medicine - but we have left some of the fundamentals behind in the rush to cure.  And in my opinion more's the pity.


Friday, February 25, 2011

thoughts in the dark of the night.........

I believe it was HisFlower who suggested I bring paper and pencil to the hospital to write down thoughts/themes for upcoming blogs (and to help pass time)

Unfortunately - it is really hard to describe in words - how out of things I was when I went into hospital.  When I say I had no strength - I mean I couldn't even walk or hold my head up - or process anything that was said to me.  Sir was amazing bringing me little things to try and stimulate interest (so were my daughters who brought in my dvd player and downloaded seasons of my favourite TV shows to watch)  But I could not focus on anything for more than 2 minutes before gliding off into some dream-like state where nothing much made any sense.  One night I did try to make notes in my agenda - but when I try to read them today - they are gibberish - nonsense - words strung together that make no sense at all.

  Until one dark and particularly scary 3:00 a.m when I lay in bed remembering a book I bought one of my daughters (my eldest I think) "Are you there God? It's Me, Margaret."  I have no clue why that book popped into my head - or why I found it so comforting.  I don't think I even ever read it with my daughter.  

But nevertheless - there it was rattling around in my addled brain at 3:00 a.m.  I heard myself railing at God - why me!!??  Why now??!!  And then a whole mess of stuff I had learned in Sunday School that just tended to make me angry at 3:00 a.m.  All that stuff was lies - just like I always knew they were lies.  God was not a benevolent father - God didn't create miracles - God wasn't there for someone like me. 

I was on my own in this big black scary place.  

And then slowly those 3:00 am scary time periods became a time for me to say "hey you - God - why aren't you listening to me?  Was everything I was told a big lie?!!  This is the time - yes it is - to prove the faith my family raised me in - was is more than just religious diatribe to frighten the masses.  You have big hands - reach one of those big hands down and take away this massive pain that is growing in my belly - take away the fear that is building like a volcano - give me some sort of peace and calmness.  Make me instantly better.  Do something!!!   Anything!!!  to ease the fear and the pain.

And slowly each time I would be having one of my "ok god - it's me" talks the calmness would eventually creep into my soul and a calmness would come from the dark corners of the room and I would drift back to sleep - blissfully pain free for a little bit - pain free long enough to drop back into a fitful sleep.

Lots of what happened in the dark of the night - and in the dark of my mind - is surreal now.  Vague puffs of thought - that float around inside my head.  Perhaps nothing more than the rantings of a slightly insane (at the moment) mind trying to sort out what had happened - what was happening.  

And so here it is 3:00 am again - no pain tearing my guts apart - no scary darkness of a hospital room, but I do have the vague whispers of memory of those nights - and a burning need to put them down somewhere.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Just peeking in

At 3:00 pm today my surgeon discharged me from the hospital.  This was my 9th day in that hospital room.  Nine scary - exhausting - draining days.

My blood results show all my levels are close to normal - some are back to normal - like the important ones - white blood count  - others are close to normal.  

I have promised to eat - high calorie content.  (First time in my life I must eat high calories!!!)  I am probably at my ideal weight level (for the first time in 30 years!!!) - BUT - this is not my recommended way to lose weight !!! And I lost it all over a 4 week period.

On the down side I still have a health issue.  This is where it gets complicated to explain... and to understand (for me) actually.  This 'health issue'  has absolutely nothing to do with my surgery,  It was a problem with no symptoms that has been developing for god only knows how long and picked 4 days after my surgery to go "viral".    The easiest way to put it I have an abscess in my colon.   Nine days ago the CT scan showed a "mass" in my colon -  very scary news!!!  But after 2 days of mega doses of antibiotics the CT scan was repeated and showed the mass had shrunken considerably.  

So besides tests and procedures that were unpleasant and painful - my body is now dealing with all the yucky side effects of 9 days of mega doses of these antibiotics.  I am hoping - as is my doctor - that now I am off the meds and home and eating that my general health will improve.

I get tired quickly - like just coming home was exhausting.  So for the next little while I will be taking it easy - pampering myself - and dreaming up all sorts of high calorie meals!!!  Thank you to all of you who sent Sir emails - left comments  and held me close in your thoughts.  

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Medical Update

Hello everyone,

This is Warren ( Sir ) and I thought I would just let you know that morningstar went back in the hospital this morning for a couple days ( so the Medicals say )  for tests ( already had a nuclear one ), a good rest and lots of nutrition so she can be with all her blogger friends real soon.

If and when I know/have more information I will post it on my blog ( since I might knot get access to her computer again ).

Keep her in your good thoughts !!!!


Thursday, February 10, 2011


I have just heard from my surgeon........

The tests yesterday have come up with a diagnosis of what is wrong with me.

I have C Difficile

I will be started on a strong antibiotic regime for the next week and see the surgeon next Wednesday.

I can use all good thoughts right about now.........

Wednesday, February 09, 2011


For those of you wondering,,,,,,,,,

This recuperation is getting boring......

I am sleeping more - eating less - feeling weaker

Yesterday Warren called the doctor's office They are gonna squeeze me in this morning...... Hopefully they will find a solution to this supposedly simply surgicial procedure.

Monday, February 07, 2011

Princess by day Slut by night

I have read in many different areas of the net - this request Dom's have for a "Princess by day and a slut by night".    I figured (and there is nothing to say I am wrong) that they are looking for a "lady" in public and a "lover" by night.   I never saw anything wrong with that..... it was rather appealing to be honest. 

But the other day I was reading a couple of profiles on Fetlife - one of the Dom one of the sub.  And it disturbed me. He described how he had brought this "lady" down to an object - to nothing more than an object to be used by him anyway he wished.  The pictures were degrading, much much less than this "Princess by day".  

Then I read her profile - and she sang his praises.  How she loved to be brought down to the lowest depths I can even imagine.  

And it has been bothering me on many levels.

First I always believed a submissive should never be a doormat.  She should be strong and independent.  

But the bit that keeps rambling around in my head - and is probably due to my upbringing - is how does a woman allow herself to be degraded and objectified like that??

Is that what all submissives are supposed to do?  Where is the respect?? the love??? Or do submissives not love their Doms ... do the Doms not love the subs??? 

Is there no happy medium between the two worlds - the Princess by day the slut by night??   Don't the Doms want to be proud of the beautiful woman on his arm??? 

Sometimes it is all just too confusing.............

Sunday, February 06, 2011

Still Struggling

I keep hoping each morning that I wake up that things will have improved - and basically it isn't improving at all.  OH I do have days when I am brighter more focused and I can get a few small things done around the house.  BUT most days I move from my bed to the sofa and nap my day away - waking up long enough to take more pain killers and then back to sleep.  

Warren god bless him has been driving over regularly to bring me what food stuffs I think I can eat (usually it doesn't taste as good as I thought it would) or shoveling out my front steps, or just check up on me.  My contact with the outside the world.

I haven't seen my girls - for all sorts of good reasons.  But yesterday the girls showed up with the grandbabies who sat still long enough to pose for one picture for "sicky granny"

 see no evil........... hear no evil..... speak no evil............ 

Eldest daughter brought me some home made soup that hopefully will slide down nicely today........ 

And so it goes........

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

And now the Reality

The dream early this morning was about quiet jungle....... tranquil waters....... sunshine and heat,

The reality when I opened the blinds was a winter storm!!!

They aren't the best pictures - taken through the closed windows and screens.... but I had to prove that this part of the Great White North does indeed have winter storms - even if this is the first major one of the season!!!


I had a dream last night - which in and of itself might not be all that surprising.  BUT I haven't had any dreams in the last 2 weeks.  

As with most dreams it didn't make a whole lot of sense - but it started with me standing on some jungle ledge in a HUGE floppy straw hat watching my 3 grandsons scamper down the ledge with some natives.  Then this huge outcry for me to come and see.  Which - cause it was a dream and I didn't have any fear of heights in the dream - or lack of energy - or bad knees - was easy peasy to do.  

The kids had discovered 4 red rubies -  3 small ones and one rather large one.  One of the natives produced blue velvet bags with strings and put each of the boy's rubies in the bags and hung them around their necks.  The bigger ruby was put in the last bag and handed to me.  

The next scene in the dream we were all back at some sort of "resort"??? It was a house on stilts on the beach.  I was dressed in this gauzy flimsy dress thing - with the same big floppy straw hat - sitting on a low slung chair in the shallows of the sparkling water - supervising the kids splashing and playing around.

At this point I woke up - of course !!  But I woke up feeling calm and peaceful and as though all was right with the world.    Just maybe this is another step forward on my path to full recovery?? who knows?? All I know is that for this morning the world looks a whole lot more amazing!

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