On Turning 54

 

                     

                   The Ghost of Birthdays Past. The kids made me this when I turned 50. 

I mused out loud yesterday about my plans today. I think tomorrow I will wear make up and pamper myself. It will be nice to feel nice on my birthday. So I told myself. I had no idea my plans were for naught, and that my birthday would be starting with a BANG. 

  The 8 A.M alarm went off for the Mr's. morning meds. I reluctantly extracted myself from my nice warm bed and made my way across the room to assemble the necessary ingredients. Insulin, alcohol wipes, syringe, medicine box, liquid meds, blood pressure monitor, thermometer, pen and daily log. I can almost do it in my sleep now, after two months of the daily routine.  I poured all the morning pills into a dosage cup to make it easier for the Mr. to swallow, noting the new nausea pills we had started yesterday. They used to come in a bottle. These new ones were in a blister pack, about a half an inch square plastic, with a foil backing. I gave the Mr. the dosage cup with all the pills, and the little blister pack sitting right on top. Then I got back in bed. A minute later, the Mr. jumped out of bed in a frantic panic, and went running across the room, clutching his throat. I didn't know what was wrong. I thought he had taken too many pills at once. I thought he could swallow them down. I thought if he had a drink he could get whatever was sticking to go down. I was trying to get information from him, and he was gesturing wildly, unable to talk, just making some small noises. It finally dawned on me that he was choking! Did he want me to call an ambulance? NO, YES, NO, Do you want me to take you? Affirmative shaking of the head. So we rushed out of the room, me grabbing the log book on the way out. He was already down the stairs and from his perspective the few minutes we had already taken trying to establish what was wrong seemed like an hour, he told me later. We jumped in the car and I hit the gas. I might have been speeding the six or seven blocks to the hospital, trying, and failing, not to hit every single pothole on the way. I still didn't know what exactly he was choking on. So we got there, and I rushed in, leaving him behind, and said My husband is choking on his meds! Immediately the receptionist called to the doctor in the back, but before he could make it to the front, the Mr. was walking in the door, still coughing and now bleeding from his throat. He coughed one final time, and out it came. The blister pack! He was instantly relieved. I couldn't believe it. I had given him the same yesterday and he had unwrapped it before taking his meds. I just stood there holding it in my hand. How in the WORLD...? I guess I was so tired I just swallowed the whole thing without looking, he said. The doc took him in the back and checked him out. Everything was fine, except now he was going to have a wickedly sore throat for a few days. We were out of there in less than ten minutes and on our way back home. 

We stopped by the store on the way to get some supplies for the birthday get together Katie and I were having later on this morning. Cake mix, frosting, blueberries for the girls, and a few things for the homemade pot pie I would be making for lunch. McDonalds for breakfast, a frappe for the Mr.'s throat. We ate in the driveway, while we decompressed from the excitement of the morning. I felt so bad. It never occurred to me that he would swallow the entire thing. First thing, I was going to unwrap all those nausea pills, and never again put a pill still in it's blister pack in with the rest of the meds. He jokingly told me later he thought all my crazy driving over the potholes probably dislodged the plastic from his esophagus. I laughed, but I knew that had been too close of a call. 

We sat for a while, in the quiet of our room. It was a beautiful sunny day. Sunday. I caught the last of the sermon from the church I have been keeping up with. Read my Bible. Prayed a bit. Then I went down and started lunch. Today I was attempting a pot pie, but instead of the pastry called for in the recipe I was using Grands biscuit dough. I had never done this before and was pretty much flying by the seat of my pants, and hoping it would work out. And then Katie and the kids were over.  I could hear their little girl voices coming in the front door and I smiled. Is there anything better than your kids and grandbabies coming to visit? Katie and I worked together on the pot pie. She diced the onions while I parboiled the vegetables and put together the biscuit crust. Made a cream sauce for the veggies and then assembled the whole thing together in the "crust" and put it in the oven. It looked delicious. The girls played with the letters on the fridge and the dollhouse I keep for them in their corner of the house, a small alcove filled with toys and stuffed dogs and books, and of course their portraits on the wall. All decorated in turquoise and pink,  The pie came out of the oven and we sat at the table to eat. Birthday girls bookending the table, and little girls on either side. And then the crowning moment of the day. Arya spoke up. Without any kind of prompting and out of the blue she said Happy birthday, Grandma. I was caught off guard. Did she just say...Yes, she did, Katie replied. Happy birthday, Grandma. I have never been wished happy birthday by a granddaughter before. This is a milestone and I love it. After lunch we got busy making our cake. Katie and I almost always share a cake since her birthday is the day before mine. God gave me a wonderful birthday present on that long ago day. It is such an honor to share a cake with her every year. This year we wanted to make a cherry amaretto cake, but the store had neither cherries, nor amaretto extract, so we decided to make a Ding Dong cake, after the famous cupcake desert. Two devils food cake chocolate layers with a cream filling and chocolate ganache on the top. However, the ganache didn't quite cover the cake, the middle was showing. And there were a couple of lumps on the very top. It wasn't perfect, but I didn't really care. I sprinkled some gold edible glitter on top, a nod to Katie's golden birthday (29 on the 29th) and then we demolished that cake. The girls had to go home then, so I helped get them in the car, and waved as they drove away. I put away the remains of our little party and then went upstairs for a sit down. What a day. The Mr. had given me a beautiful necklace, Alyssa brought me flowers. Katie brought herself and my grandgirls and we had a grand time. Lots of well wishes from good friends and family. All in all I could not have asked for a better day, despite the heart pounding way it had begun. What a life. Thank you, Lord for all of these blessings. My family. My walking miracle of a husband. My children. My grandchildren. My good friends. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Getting older may be hard on the joints, but it sure makes my heart feel a little warmer. At the end of the day I can look  back on these things and fall asleep with a smile on my face. "Happy birthday, Grandma"! I could not be happier.