Random Thoughts on My Current TV Viewing Habits

Survivor is having its BEST SEASON EVER. Russell and Parvati have executed maneuvers you'd have to see to believe.

I can watch a marathon of America's Next Top Model even though I've seen the whole damn season six times before.

Two And A Half Men and The New Adventures of Old Christine make good sleeping pills. (Don't know why, cuz I actually enjoy both shows.)

DVR is everything people kept telling me it was.

Chelsea Lately (aka Chelsea Handler) gets away with saying stuff NO ONE else says on TV. (P.S. For some reason, her relationship with Chuy kinda gives me the creeps.)

The Housewives of (fill in the city here) are ample proof that money doesn't buy happiness...or class (I'm looking at YOU, Countess)...and that age and maturity don't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

Dancing With The Stars has a pacing problem. Can't watch.

American Idol still grabs me, although it's lacking the wow factor this year.

Desperate Housewives gets better and better.

Sad but true. I need Tiger in my televised golf tournaments.

TMZ's Harry Levin hit gold with his creation, but for some reason I wouldn't be surprised to see him show up as the unwitting participant on To Catch A Predator.

I could watch Bravo 24/7, reruns and all. (Does this make me gay??)

Project Runway was better before it went to Lifetime.

HBO has given up its "original series" dominance to Showtime.

Must. Get. Showtime. (So I can watch the Altered States of Tara more often.)

Of all the reality shows, I think I'd do best on Big Brother but Amazing Race looks like a lot more fun.

Those Jersey people should be put out of OUR misery.

Another Life Goes On Post

Hard to believe some people still check my blog every day, especially since I've been less-than-prolific of late. Once in awhile, I even get a call or an email asking how I'm doing because the blog had always been a source of info up until last summer.

Anyway, so yeah. Here it is. I'm alive and well, and...oh, wow...just checked the calendar, and tomorrow it will have been EIGHT WEEKS since my surgery. Seems like only yesterday...

When last checked, my right lung still wasn't 100%. Maybe that's why I don't feel any different from the way I felt pre-surgery. No more energy, no less. Well, sometimes less but I suppose that's just because they cut me open, put me on the heart-lung bypass machine, and...y'know...did all manner of unkind things to my body. Still...I'm jealous of the people on the valve forum who report they "haven't felt this good in years." Or, maybe I'm being greedy? Today I had an echocardiogram. Hopefully, the results will show lots of good stuff.

This past weekend, I went to Vegas (yay!) and was shocked when a minimal jaunt between the Flamingo and Harrah's resulted in aching thighs and calves. And, NO--I wasn't in my customary 4-inch heels--this was in FLATS. {Shudder} I'm TOTALLY out-of-shape, it appears.

So a new commitment to my ever-lovin' treadmill--which, by the way--now resides in my extra bedroom where there's no TV. I'm forced to listen to music on my computer. Yesterday, I walked for five songs worth.

It's still difficult to schedule things since I try to spend as much time with Annie as possible. I hate to think of her being alone, yet I'm not willing to give up my independence entirely.

Meanwhile, life goes on. I've booked a trip to Nashville for the annual romance writers' conference even though I'm not writing at all. Maybe it'll get me fired up again, who knows? In any event, it's always a good excuse to see a part of the US I've never been to. Plus, I get to pal around with old friends Brooke and Elizabeth, so I'm looking forward to it.

There's still so much in my head that I could go on and on about--plenty of fodder for the blog, you might say--but it feels too personal. Hell, I don't confide most of my thoughts aloud to my friends and family, so why would I do it here?

Yet, despite how this entry is probably coming off, be assured I've held on to my positive attitude. I mean, what else can I do, really?

Life didn't make any promises...and I learned at a young age...ya gotta roll with the punches.

Ow.

In Writing News...

Yes, faithful blog readers...remember when I used to fancy myself a writer...??

Well, the last thing I wrote before my whole world went to hell was a story for True Romance. In fact, I submitted it on April 29, 2009 --which I happen to know because I checked my "sent" file.

After that, nada.

Not even on my book-length project which, when last mentioned, was the recipient of a 3-chapter critique from Jessica Faust at Bookends Literary.

Flash forward. And I mean FORWARD...Crap, almost a year!

This week I received both a contract for the True Romance story AND Jessica's critique. Uh, I guess you can chalk this up to the good news/bad news category. Yay about the contract, but Ms. Faust's critique was less-than-stellar. She said that overall my writing was good but that she didn't think I was executing things in the way I should (I'm paraphrasing.) And she TOTALLY misinterpreted my little "women's joke" that starts off the story. Sigh.

In health news, I'm doing fine...feeling more normal every day although most of the time my right boob aches like a sonuvabitch. S'okay. I'll take that ANY DAY over an aching sternum.

One of these days--when I get a breather, HA--I'll write more about the experience. Oh, and post pictures.

I know.

You can hardly wait, huh?

Rest In Peace, Daddy

Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,
At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!)
Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,
Off with one heckuva roar!
We live in fame or go down in flame.
Hey! Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!

Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder
Sent it high into the blue
Hands of men blasted the world asunder,
How they lived God only knew!
Souls of men dreaming of skies to conquer
Gave us wings ever to soar,
With scouts before and bombers galore, Hey!
Nothing'll stop the US Air Force!

Here's a toast to the host of those
Who love the vastness of the sky,
To a friend we send a message
Of his brother men who fly.
We drink to those who gave their all of old,
Then down we roar
to score the rainbow's pot of gold.
A toast to the host of men we boast, the US Air Force.

Zoom!

Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true!
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder,
Keep your nose out of the blue! (Out of the blue, boy!)
Flying men guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more,
In echelon we carry on! Hey!
Nothing'll stop the US Air Force!

Warren Revland Bruskrud 10-1-22 -- 3-20-10

High Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air,
Up, up the long delirious burning blue.
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew;
And while with silent uplifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Buh-Bye Aortic Valve, Hello Mooooooooooooo

Two weeks ago tomorrow, can ya believe it?? How time flies! Yes, two weeks ago, they wheeled me through what felt like "backstage on the set of Grey's Anatomy." Only it was real life.

Strangely, I wasn't frightened (okay, maybe there was something already in my IV), but then they didn't give me very much time to get scared. My anesthesiologist (both charming and handsome in his turban) said something like, "ta-ta," and I remember feeling first one wave, then a second, then nothing.

Until I woke up with that damn tube down my throat.

Okay, I'd REALLY tried to prepare for this. I knew not to panic, I knew they wouldn't left me suffocate.

And I knew it'd be in for HOURS.

Luckily, I don't remember the specifics of this period--only that I kept thinking it was so much worse than I'd imagined. So. Much.

What I DO remember is that the nurses would ask if I was in pain, and I'd shake my head no, thinking, ASK THE RIGHT QUESTION.

Now, I'm not sure WHAT the right question was, but eventually, friend Kathleen (who held my hand the ENTIRE time), said: "Do you feel like you're choking?"

YES, I nodded.

At that point, I guess they suctioned me, or something, and then...(sorry about this)...I vomited. Well! At least I felt better after that!

The only other glaring memory of this special moment in time was my extreme desire to moisten my mouth. Finally, once they yanked the tube (after four hours), Kath was able to give me ice chips.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My new BFF!!!!!! (In fact, I overdid it a bit and threw up again, but oh well.)

Anyway, this all occurred in the ICU and I don't remember much else except for how peaceful it was there, and how nice and professional the staff was. In the middle of the night, I could look through a small window and see one of the nurses at her desk, and it was so comforting!

More tomorrow...

P.S. My everlasting (and I mean EVERLASTING) thanks to Kath, Ann, and Polly for being there that Thursday. Hugs to you, my angels!

Foiled Again

Is anyone sensing a pattern here?

Doc's office called at 4 this afternoon and canceled. Stay tuned.

If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium

It was a movie, folks. Starring Suzanne Pleshette. Look it up, if you don't remember.

So, the movie's apropos of nothing except the new date for which my surgery is scheduled.

Next Tuesday, March 2nd.

Gulp. Gag. Shudder.

I hesitate to blast this news across the blogsphere, cuz...well, like, ya never know. Things can always change. For instance, tomorrow when I report in (for the second time) at the pre-registration soiree, the nurse may hear me hack (and/or wheeze) and decide my doc's scheduling person is nuts. (I mean, isn't it kind of important to be breathing properly when you have surgery?) Oh, well. Maybe by Tuesday.

Tuesday...................

Voicemails You Really Don't Wanna Hear on Your Cell

"Hi, Randy. We're just following up to see how you're feeling and to tell you we've tentatively rescheduled you for Thursday."

Um, no...I don't think so. Let me stop hacking first....

Postponed!

Wouldn't you know?? I get all psyched up for tomorrow's surgery....then wake up with a raspy throat on Saturday...followed by a slight cough on Sunday...followed by full-blown (note the pun) runny nose this morning.

Went to my 9:30 pre-registration appt this morning anyway, but as soon as I told the nurse about my cold, she summoned the "cardiac coordinator." She in turn tried contacting my surgeon's office but (hello!! holiday!!!), they were incommunicado. So then she called my doctor's cell phone. Found him on the ski slopes somewhere. (Um, seriously?? Ski slopes today, my HEART at 7 a.m. the next??)

He quickly instructed the nice coordinator lady to cancel me. Said we'd reschedule later.

Yeah, and maybe he gets another day on the slopes. Me? I'm in bed with a 100 degree temp that's rising.

Doesn't it just figure??

No Date Yet

For those who keep asking, the answer is: NO. I still don't have the date of my upcoming surgery. But I'm pretty sure it'll be the week of February 15th...um...which is only a little more than a week away. Ya think I should start preparing....? Or should I just continue pretending I don't have to do it??

In other news, my dad (who fell last week and fractured hip) is being moved from the hospital to a nursing/rehab facility today.

Onward and upward, eh?

Eek! Not Yet!

The good news (well, I GUESS it's good news) is that I got approval for less-invasive-guy (AKA Surgeon No. 2) at better-hospital-place (AKA St. Joseph's in Burbank). Hard to believe this went so smoothly after all the trouble I went to just to get the consult approval.

So here we are.

What's next?

Uh, I guess I have to actually schedule the, y'know...SURGERY.

I managed to punch the numbers on the phone and eventually got put through to the surgery scheduling person, a woman who sounded especially harried and busy. After I'd identified myself, she reported that yes, they'd just received their copy of the authorization but that she hadn't spoken to the surgeon yet.

"Are you on blood thinners?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Then, depending on the availability of the anesthesiologist, I think we'll be able to put you on the schedule for next week."

"WHOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Okay, I didn't really screech that, but I may have made a similar sound. And then I added that I wasn't quite, er, ready.

"When were you thinking you'd like to do this?"

Did I detect a slightly smirky tone...? As in, you'll do this whenever the surgeon can you fit you in?

No. Probably just me being a little sensitive. In any case, I offered up the third week in February (right after I get all our company insurance renewed, please--and the rest of my life, like, ORGANIZED) and she seemed to think that would work out.

Gack.

Other Sides Heard From

Hey, people...remember who you're dealing with here. Queen of Wishy-wash. Devil's Advocate Extraordinaire. A woman with the ability to talk herself INTO...and OUT OF almost anything.

Which is why a couple incoming emails threw me into schizoid territory this week. Well-meaning votes for the traditional sternotomy instead of the less invasive approach.

Gah.

Decided it was time for extreme measures. Yes, I actually registered as a bona fide member at valvereplacement.com. And posed a question to fellow members who've gone through the "portal access" procedure...How, I asked, did you justify it to yourself in face of the arguments made against it?

Meanwhile, I'm checking on the status of my referral request. So far, I've been on hold for thirty-five minutes...and counting....

The Rain Don't Stay On the Plain

Storm Watch 2010

It's raining kitties and bow-wows, folks.

We Have A Winner!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Barring unforeseen circumstances, the guy in this picture will be doing the slicing and dicing. That is, if Health Net doesn't try to make my life miserable.

And, no...I didn't pick him based on looks. Shame on you. Perish the thought.

(Wink)

Not For The Squeamish

Option 1.
Option 2.
Seems like a no-brainer, doesn't it??

What NOT To Say

Here's a sweet exchange which occurred at a Bat Mitzvah I recently attended whereupon I encountered many old "friends."

Old "Friend": "I hear you need a heart valve replacement."

Me: "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Old "Friend": "Are you still smoking?"

Me (shrugging sheepishly): "Yes."

Old "Friend" (with a dismissive wave of the hand): "Then I don't feel sorry for you."

Isn't that nice? I think I mumbled something defensive about it being a congenital defect, not effected by smoking, and that in fact, my arteries are CLEAR, but I imagine the din of the party drowned out my protest.

I may never speak to this old "friend" again.

Title Change?

In the old days, you'd be guessing this post might be about changing the title of a manuscript.

Ah...the old days.

Nope. Today I'm referring to how I should maybe change this to Randy Writes About Her Heart Valve Replacement. Talk about a catchy title, huh?

Anyway, it occurs to me that not everyone's on Facebook (where from time to time I drop a brief update on the progress I'm making toward heart surgery). Indeed, I hear frequently from readers who wonder where my blog has gone.

With that in mind, here's a quick recap:

After nephew Brian (without experiencing ANY symptoms) discovered SEVEN blocked arteries, I figured I'd better get checked out myself. Saw a cardiologist in September who wasn't happy with my heart murmur. More tests in October confirmed "severe aortic stenosis" or, in other words, badass narrowing of the aortic valve. Prescription: Aortic Valve Replacement (better known as AVR).

Next test was an angiogram (I believe I posted a picture of my hospitalized self on the blog somewhere) during which it was determined my arteries were clear, so no need to tack on Coronary Bypass Surgery to the AVR. Yay for small miracles.

Consulted a surgeon and got the low-down, but meanwhile did some research on my own. Something called Less Invasive Surgery sounded mucho appealing, but how to go about making it happen?

Ah...that's when "possible surgery in November" turned into the interminable wait. Without going into boring detail, let's just say it takes a Ph.D. to navigate the complicated terrain of health insurance, and I ain't got no Ph.D.

Cutting to the chase...I saw a second surgeon yesterday, one who does indeed do a less invasive procedure. Oh, wait. Let's back up for the uninitiated. Traditional AVR is where they hack your sternum down the middle, spread your ribcage open, and have at it.

Hence the interest in "less invasive."

As opposed to ripping your chest hope, the surgeon makes a smaller incision above the breast and goes through the ribs.

Ouch, no matter how you slice it. (Ha. Slice it. I crack myself up.)

Anyway, here's the dilemma: yeah, surgeon guy number two CAN and WILL do the "less invasive," but is it his first choice?

Uh, no.

Basically, his point was: Why not make it as easy as possible for the surgeon to do his job?

Hm.

Bottom line...more to think about--but not much time for it since yesterday's guy gave the impression that I need to get this accomplished sooner rather than later. ("Really? You're not having problems with passing out?")

Decisions, decisions...long time blog readers know I SUCK at making decisions!

Stay tuned....

I Could Get Used to Seeing This....

Snapped with a cellphone as I stood in the living room of a condo my sister-in-law and I own in Pacific Beach. Tragically, the interior view is not as pretty...but it will be once we're done renovating!!