My 12 days at Mike's and Heather's are over. It will be so good to see my runts again.
Yana is a bright, happy, beautiful baby with a long stubborn streak and real love of green trees and fresh air and naps on Daddy's and Mommy's chest.
Yana' feeding schedule remains complicated. She is fed every three hours in the daytime and each feeding takes a little over and hour: heather pumps, feeds by bottle, and administers the rest of the food through a tube in Yana's nose. This rigorous schedule makes doing the rest of the life's stuff extremely difficult.
As you can all imagine Heather and Mike are wonderful parents! I am really proud of the patient, loving, dilligent, care they give to her.
I wish Canada was not so vast so that the distance between Toronto and Lethbridge wasn't so great.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
Yana
Jodie is here to visit...therefore the mandatory blogging! (haha) Well, I now know what it's like to be a fuzzy headed momma living in babyland. Yana, Mike and I are faring well - establishing new routines (especially around feeding) and enjoying our little girl's pretty normal babyhood. We're so happy that besides a rigourous feeding schedule and once a day meds, Yana's life is pretty similar to any other baby without heart problems - and she's such a happy, content kid! Our docs have given her straight A's so far and say to expect her 2nd surgery around November - that one is open heart, so it's quite a bit more serious than the first one. It's a series of 3 surgeries to recreate the circulation in her heart using just one pumping chamber instead of 2. The 3rd surgery will be when she's 2 or 3. Please pray for us as we head into the beginning of Mike's busy season. It will be an adjustment for us all from the lazy dazy days of summer! We've come to think of ourselves as living in a dictatorship - speaking of which...the 10 lb dictator calls! HEATHER
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Go Trolley Go
I cut out of my Lazarus Rising street walk early tonight so I could get home to help put the kids to bed. Jodie's gone to visit Heather, Yana, and Mike in Lethbridge. Both had taken long naps so I said I'd try to be home by 9:15 and Sim could stay up until then and Johanna later. I was at Queen and University at 1/4 to, but had to wait till a few minutes after nine before a trolley came along - a double car, quite packed, of course, after such a long wait.
Just after Dufferin the trolley suddenly stops, second time this has happened today - other time with Sim and Jo on the way to see a friend from the street in the hospital, the driver comes on over the speakers and says there's some guy who has gotten on and won't pay the fare and won't get off and he's not moving until the guy gets off or TTC supervisors or security come and remove him. Well, lo and behold, this muttering old timer plops his ass down two seats over from me. I'm in the very back reading Moby Dick. Everyone just waits for awhile while the driver and he go back and forth a bit. He shouting "Thou shalt not kill. I've got to get to the hospital; i'm going to have a heart attack." The driver insisting he's staying put. Our fellow, inviting him to come back and have his adam's apple ripped out - "Thou shalt not kill" - or his head cut off or to perform a lewd act.
After a few minutes, the other passengers start getting into it. At first, I'd just chuckled a bit, as did the African Canadian dude a seat up and to the right. Now, I notice a hospital bracelet. "Hey buddy, you trying to get up to St. Joseph's." "Yeah, can't walk that far. Tired. Gonna have a heart attack." "Okay, well why don't you get off here and wait at the Coffee Time. I'll get my van and come back and take you to St. Joe's." "Alright" he says and storms off the bus, leaving a few invectives hanging in the air behind him. Says my chuckling buddy incredulously, "you aren't really going to come back and get him are you?" "Yeah," I shrug, as if its all in a day's work. And why not? Last night at Sanctuary's dinner I was in the thick of an even more delicate situation with an aboriginal fellow who a decade or so ago held our nurse Keren at knife point for 20 minutes insisting that he needed to kill a white person to settle historical wrongs. "Be careful" exclaims another, somewhat amazed passenger, and off we go.
So I get home a bit before 9:30 and Angela is just tyring to put Sim to bed. He's quite excited to see me and they say he's ready for bed, but has just started to say Mama, mama, mama. He goes down easily enough for me with a round of Go Dog Go, Goodnight My Child and Great is Thy Faithfulness. Johanna comes in the door right as I'm getting ready to put him down, but that doesn't bother him a bit.
Jo had taken a long nap so I take her along in the van with Ben to see if our friend is at Coffee Time. He is. We get him down to emerg without incident. Doesn't seem to be much too much wrong with him, though there's some bombast along the way. Offers to fix, paint, or whatever we need for the van: "oil jobs, breaks, I do it all. And I don't charge nothing except maybe a cup of coffee and a donut. Maybe a beer. She's running pretty right now, doesn't need anything. What year is she '95? '96?" "'98 I think." "You just give me a call." "Sounds good!" He wants me to stay with him until he's registered in case the guard is there that doesn't like him. I show him in, but beg off staying as there's a line at the desk. "Gotta get my daughter to sleep." "Oh, okay. I'll be here most of the night." "I'll come back a bit later."
So we head back. Johanna gets the chips I promised her as we were heading out the door to Coffee Time. Harold and the Purple Crayon. Crictor. E-cards from and to mama. Goodnight my child, twinkle twinkle, hey diddle diddle, the Shema, Our Father, Praise God from whom all blessings flow, and she's out. Back to St. Joe's, he's out. Sprawled slack-jawed across a chair in the emerg waiting room. I consider waking him slightly to just say hello, but think better of it when I glance at his comrades-in-waiting, viscerally glad that he's conked out. Perhaps I'll go by again tomorrow if time allows.
Just after Dufferin the trolley suddenly stops, second time this has happened today - other time with Sim and Jo on the way to see a friend from the street in the hospital, the driver comes on over the speakers and says there's some guy who has gotten on and won't pay the fare and won't get off and he's not moving until the guy gets off or TTC supervisors or security come and remove him. Well, lo and behold, this muttering old timer plops his ass down two seats over from me. I'm in the very back reading Moby Dick. Everyone just waits for awhile while the driver and he go back and forth a bit. He shouting "Thou shalt not kill. I've got to get to the hospital; i'm going to have a heart attack." The driver insisting he's staying put. Our fellow, inviting him to come back and have his adam's apple ripped out - "Thou shalt not kill" - or his head cut off or to perform a lewd act.
After a few minutes, the other passengers start getting into it. At first, I'd just chuckled a bit, as did the African Canadian dude a seat up and to the right. Now, I notice a hospital bracelet. "Hey buddy, you trying to get up to St. Joseph's." "Yeah, can't walk that far. Tired. Gonna have a heart attack." "Okay, well why don't you get off here and wait at the Coffee Time. I'll get my van and come back and take you to St. Joe's." "Alright" he says and storms off the bus, leaving a few invectives hanging in the air behind him. Says my chuckling buddy incredulously, "you aren't really going to come back and get him are you?" "Yeah," I shrug, as if its all in a day's work. And why not? Last night at Sanctuary's dinner I was in the thick of an even more delicate situation with an aboriginal fellow who a decade or so ago held our nurse Keren at knife point for 20 minutes insisting that he needed to kill a white person to settle historical wrongs. "Be careful" exclaims another, somewhat amazed passenger, and off we go.
So I get home a bit before 9:30 and Angela is just tyring to put Sim to bed. He's quite excited to see me and they say he's ready for bed, but has just started to say Mama, mama, mama. He goes down easily enough for me with a round of Go Dog Go, Goodnight My Child and Great is Thy Faithfulness. Johanna comes in the door right as I'm getting ready to put him down, but that doesn't bother him a bit.
Jo had taken a long nap so I take her along in the van with Ben to see if our friend is at Coffee Time. He is. We get him down to emerg without incident. Doesn't seem to be much too much wrong with him, though there's some bombast along the way. Offers to fix, paint, or whatever we need for the van: "oil jobs, breaks, I do it all. And I don't charge nothing except maybe a cup of coffee and a donut. Maybe a beer. She's running pretty right now, doesn't need anything. What year is she '95? '96?" "'98 I think." "You just give me a call." "Sounds good!" He wants me to stay with him until he's registered in case the guard is there that doesn't like him. I show him in, but beg off staying as there's a line at the desk. "Gotta get my daughter to sleep." "Oh, okay. I'll be here most of the night." "I'll come back a bit later."
So we head back. Johanna gets the chips I promised her as we were heading out the door to Coffee Time. Harold and the Purple Crayon. Crictor. E-cards from and to mama. Goodnight my child, twinkle twinkle, hey diddle diddle, the Shema, Our Father, Praise God from whom all blessings flow, and she's out. Back to St. Joe's, he's out. Sprawled slack-jawed across a chair in the emerg waiting room. I consider waking him slightly to just say hello, but think better of it when I glance at his comrades-in-waiting, viscerally glad that he's conked out. Perhaps I'll go by again tomorrow if time allows.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
New Orleans--2005
Morning has broke
The mayflowered breeze of that dawn
Not so early and what light?
Nothern?
Slaves running...
Dreaming.
Falling Rocks. Not on me.
I ain't
Man or a woman until the roads are traversable
and whose gonna bury the dead?
Don't matter no more!
Quilts with birds or any the like
Ain't gonna save the ship.
No pretending
When the saints roll in all our waters gonna be troubled.
The mayflowered breeze of that dawn
Not so early and what light?
Nothern?
Slaves running...
Dreaming.
Falling Rocks. Not on me.
I ain't
Man or a woman until the roads are traversable
and whose gonna bury the dead?
Don't matter no more!
Quilts with birds or any the like
Ain't gonna save the ship.
No pretending
When the saints roll in all our waters gonna be troubled.
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