Torn

I woke up around 4:00 a.m., having dreamed of 1) Brian oversleeping, making him late for his second day at his new job and creating great consternation in our home; 2) seeing just how bad the condition of the back end of our recently purchased home was (not my actual house, or my parents'), to the point that it was not secure from the weather or would-be intruders; and 3) taking Poppy outside for a potty break, during which she got away from me and I thought she would be 'gone girl' (although her recall eventually worked and I had my hands on her when I finally exited dreamland). As I lay here in the dark, I heard/felt my silenced phone vibrate. Odd; who would be texting me at this hour? Most likely Brian, working his second night at his new job as a nighttime stocker in a big grocery store. I had texted him before I went to sleep; he was probably responding during a break.

It was Brian, but there were two other messages sent nearly a half-hour earlier. Maybe they are what woke me up, though I was not conscious of the vibrations. Rick sent me a video snippet of Bette and Boop at 1:46 a.m. PST (NOT when he's usually conscious), plus a worrisome text. "Doing ok. Blaise however is struggling and not eating. Gave her Nutridrench and dextrose in her abdomen and b complex and Banamine tonight. Got her to drink a fair amount but she is grinding her teeth. Worried me!"

There was no going back to sleep after that. I laid there and prayed for my sheep, my son, my husband, my parents. I wondered if my struggle, my lesson to be learned, was about letting go of "control" (not a new lesson). It is tempting to think that if I'd been at home, I would have been on top of imminent lambing; Bette would have been moved to a prepared lambing jug/stall ahead of time  and monitored carefully, and Blaise wouldn't have gotten bashed/toppled and now be on the verge of death.

But I've been needed here, and helping my parents had to take priority over being my animals' steward. "Honor thy father and thy mother...." But I will be on a plane by this time tomorrow, leaving my parents to fend for themselves after four weeks of being their emotional, mental, and physical support. I am not at all confident that my mom will be able to function as sole caregiver, nor am I confident that she/they will 'call in the cavalry' of self-paid in-home care before an accident occurs. More control issues? Perhaps, but after nearly three weeks of assisting Dad (except for the few times lately I've hovered while Mom practices assisting), I know just how much focus and physical strength it takes to help Dad stand and walk, and I've seen my mom's limitations. I wish there wasn't going to be a four-plus-day gap between my departure and my sister's arrival. I wish we didn't live so far apart. I wish I could be in two places at once. I wish – I wish that there were no good-byes, even as I look forward to a promised land full of joyous reunions.

Team effort

A lot has happened in the last two weeks since Dad was released from hospital. A great team of healthcare professionals worked with him in the hospital and during his outpatient radiation treatments. Another great team of healthcare professionals are coming to his home, monitoring, supporting, and assigning him exercises to hopefully improve function. Mom and I are helping him throughout the day with companionship, meals, and physical assistance. My sister has helped from afar with support, research, and ordering needed items through her Amazon Prime account, and is driving down next weekend to spend a week here. A team of workmen have labored all this week remodeling the master bathroom to make it more usable and useful, and have taken care of some other needed repairs. My husband and son have held down the fort at home for much longer than they planned or imagined. And through it all, my dad has shown amazing grace.

The master bath remodel was needed because there was not an accessible shower in the house. Their small, square shower stall, directly behind me in the photos below, could not be used because of a floor leak; the tub they never used anyway, and the toilet was old, short, and round.

Now there is a low threshold shower with lots of grab bars in place of the tub so that Dad can get a shower with the assistance of aides, plus a better toilet and beautiful tile on walls and floor.

In addition to a bedside commode and wheelchair for Dad, I asked my sister to order a supply of fiber to keep me and my spindle busy during downtimes. (All arrived quickly; no supply chain issues here!) Then my sister wouldn't let me reimburse her, the sweet rascal.

At the top is the fiber I brought with me, all spun up in four turtles of singles. Below that are the ten different colors of dyed merino roving that came in my order, 20g of each. I'm almost done with that pale pastel lot at the bottom now.

When I woke up this morning, my silenced phone showed two missed calls, Rick at 1:00 a.m. and Brian at 1:05. My heart skipped a couple beats as I opened a text message sent at 1:48. It said, "Heat lamp on the lamb. Ewe number 48 had a single" along with this photo:

Right on schedule for her October 9 breeding date, Bette had lambed. I had so many questions, but knew Rick would be sleeping with the two-hour time difference. So I texted him, "Call me when you're awake." One minute later, he did!

It was not a short birth announcement. When Rick did chores late last night, he found mayhem in the Ram-ada Inn. Blaise was on her back like a turtle; Rick thought she was dead at first. He got her righted, wobbly but alive, then heard a lamb and saw Bette guarding it, all dried off, in the corner. He and Brian had to prepare a spot in the empty horse stall and move momma and baby into it. Brian said he witnessed it nursing, and they went to bed.

I had several questions, including the certainty of the mother since he said Blaise looked kind of skinny to him and Bette had no vaginal discharge. So Rick got up, said good-bye, and headed down to check things out more.

Rick found the lamb cold and weak, so he took it into the tack room where there's a heater, gave it sub-Q dextrose, milked the ewe, and started tube-feeding her colostrum every hour. Yes, it's a ewe lamb. 😊

Bette was distressed so Rick took her into the tackroom, too.

After several hours, little girl gained enough strength to stand when Rick lifted her up.

It was so hard to be so far away, wondering if the lamb would make it or not, powerless to help. I briefly contemplated finding an earlier flight home, but knew the crisis would likely be over one way or another no matter how quickly I could leave. And every day I can be here is helpful, if not essential, to Mom and Dad.

At 4:30, Rick called again. He had gone down to the barn to check on the pair and feed the lamb one more time before he had to leave on a veterinary emergency. When he got her up, she immediately went to nursing! Hallelujah, praise the Creator – and my dear husband's efforts. I am awaiting tonight's report, but I am much encouraged – encouraged enough to share the name for her that popped into my mind and wouldn't leave. Meet Bette's daughter Boop:

That's it for the latest news from Texas and . . .

P.S. for Tim at Oakdale Farm; I sure hope you read this! Your blog has been compromised (hacked?), along with your email. Your blog will load briefly, then switch to a page called "blog-hit-counters.com." And the emails I've tried to send to let you know bounce back as undeliverable.

Radioactive

Wanna see what "radio-surgery" looks like? I followed Dad into the treatment room on Monday, where they got him on the table,  covered him with warmed blankets, and bolted his masked head in place. That big machine hovering over the male tech spins around to orient to the three targets on Dad's mask; I didn't stay for that.

After Dad's third and last radiation treatment Monday, the staff clapped and cheered, pinning a daffodil to his vest. Yes, he got to keep the mask as a souvenir!

Now the predicted fatigue is setting in, although not yet as bad as his doctor warned it could get. This last week that I'm here could end up being pretty quiet. Today is quiet because the handymen who started the bathroom remodel yesterday had to be elsewhere. Hope they can still finish by the end of the week as estimated. And I hope Dad has some quality months left after the post-radiation fatigue, for all our sakes. My step-brother has arranged a ride up this weekend for a short visit (he lives in a nursing home six hours away), and my sister is driving down from Lincoln, NE with her boy less than a week after I leave. She and I will be coming back for visits as often as we can; I already have a plane reservation for two weeks in late April to early May.

This is the fourth turtle I've finished here

Today I finished spinning the last of the fiber I brought with me so of course I did the only sensible thing – I ordered more. Actually, my sister ordered it because she has Amazon Prime – and then wouldn't let me pay for it. She said it was a little thank-you for all I'm doing here. She has been a huge help as well, researching things, sending links, ordering things (like a bedside commode and wheelchair, not just my fiber 😉), and most of all giving me a ton of emotional support, empathy, and a chance to laugh at some of the absurdities that have been a part of all this.

If I let myself dwell on things at home – my dog not getting fed because the two men in the house each assumed the other was doing it; my horses – particularly my young, hot mare – not getting turned out; my ewe(s) that are on the verge of lambing; all my houseplants that are possibly/probably dead; I would be an emotional wreck. No dwelling; it is what it is.

Last night I caught some color through one of the windows, so grabbed my iPhone and headed outside to capture this:

As I moved to catch a better view, I started up a jackrabbit. Aw, fond memories of my adolescence here; I love these fast, flighty creatures. I tried for a photo in the fading light, and was surprised to catch an almost-recognizable image as s/he bounded across the field:

That's another update far, far from . . .

The perils of packing lightly, and other observations

Yep, I'm still in Texas. My stay is no longer indefinite, though; I plan to be home by March 8 at the latest. (Pray that the ewes cross their back legs until then!) That's 'just' two and a half weeks longer than I thought I'd be here. I've always been a relatively light packer, and packed even less than usual for my six-day trip, since I thought I'd mostly be moving stuff out of my parents' house, not visiting the hospital, going to medical appointments, and picking up prescriptions. Oh well; I'm cycling through the same two pairs of jeans and four tops I brought, and supplementing with a vest and a sweater of Mom's. I can pick up additional toiletries. However, Rick has had to Priority Mail me – twice – a prescription I quickly ran out of, and then would've run out of again as I extended my stay. Such is the nature of the state of affairs here.

Speaking of purchases, it is an adjustment of mind and wallet to come to a state with sales tax, as Oregon has none. But at least one thing is cheaper; two scoops of cappuccino chocolate chunk in a dish at Braum's (a regional ice cream and fast food chain) is only $2.15! See, I am taking care of myself. 😁 I'm also walking when it doesn't risk frostbite or hypothermia....

You know the old weather joke, told practically everywhere: "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute." Well, it may take longer than a minute, but the variability here seems exceptionally psychotic. The first week I worked in short sleeves, as the highs reached 70 or more. Then we were waking up to single digits that with any breeze put the "feels like" into the negative double digits, and staying bitterly cold all day. Today started that way, then warmed up into the high 40s. Next week the forecast is for highs up to 80°! But regardless of the temperature, it is D.R.Y. here and nearly always windy. "Yes, Virginia, there really are tumbleweeds." And static electricity strong enough to knock your socks off!

I've caught a couple nice sunsets, though. First one:

Second one:

Back to my initial purpose for this trip: cleaning out my brother's old room and anything else my mom will let me haul out. (They have a big house – and enough stuff to fill three!) Back home so much would be recycled, but here, it all goes to the dump (or the thrift shop); there are NO recycling services. And lots of people have dumpsters, showing just how much trash they generate! SO different from the more environmentally conscious West Coast....

Of course, Dad's hospitalization and diagnosis soon dictated a new purpose for my trip: supporting my parents emotionally and physically. Today Dad had the second of his three radiation treatments, for which he wears a custom fitted mask to hold him absolutely still. Monday he wants me to follow him to the treatment room for his last treatment and get a photo of him wearing it, which I am told I can do.

I've also been able to help them schedule a needed remodel of their master bath area, which will start (and supposedly end!) next week. My so-capable dad, who has been a builder, mechanic, teacher, and logistical engineer in the aerospace industry, had another lifetime of projects he wanted to accomplish; I'm so proud of him for allowing someone else to come in and do what he no longer can.

That's it for now far, far away from . . .