Tuesday, December 9 - While the "clock" says Tuesday, by all that's reasonable, it is still Monday, just a few minutes after the end of the previous report.

It was clear that Gloria was not going to be able to sleep as her lower GI tract was hurting too much. Up to this time, while she was in pain, she could sleep. But lack of sleep is not a good thing and since the hospital visit showed no signs of anything truly important being wrong - other folks should have such rock-steady vital signs! - I would say it is time for some pain drugs, looking for that same effect that was brought on by the morphine in the ER.

Gloria has heard all the horror stories about folks hooked on hydrocodone and its various relatives. As a consequence, she is quite resistant to taking them. In general, I support her in this regard, but painkillers can also be an important tool in treating many situations. This is one of those situations.

Our approach to these drugs means we have a small supply from previous prescriptions that went unused. She still had five - 5 mg hydrocodone-with-acetaminophen from her September 30 surgery. These are one-to-two every four-to-six hours as needed ... and she routinely cuts them in half.

I told her it was time to go get the painkillers and, to my surprise, there wasn't much resistance. It only took a couple of times urging her and the deed was done.

I doubt anyone in the world enjoys having their head - or pretty much any part - rubbed as much as Gloria because it seems to magically erase her mind. I did that and when I stopped 30 minutes later, she was asleep and didn't notice that I had quit.

Now Really Tuesday - She awoke about 5:30 a.m. I had been awake a short time and could tell she was sleeping soundly and must have during the five or so hours between as I could tell I had slept well i.e., she hadn’t been restless.

Her tummy was still sore, but when I suggested it was time for another hydrocodone half, she agreed immediately. She went back to bed and apparently slept soundly until about 9 a.m.

While in the bathroom, she developed a nosebleed from her left nostril and swore she had not been straining. While she has these from time-to-time, she usually addresses the situation with a piece of toilet paper pressed to the opening which means she is then pretty much incapacitated.

My dad and I were similarly afflicted when young and it quickly became apparent that a more robust solution was called for than a little patting with a tissue. I routinely and rather automatically took a toilet-paper sheet, rolled it tightly along one axis and then folded it over, making a plug just slightly larger than the nostril opening. Then I'd shove it in and forget it. If I was going to be in public, I'd trim it off and push it in until it was virtually unnoticeable.

She seemed to have scored a success until her next trip to the toilet. This time she grabbed a washcloth which was quickly dotted with red spots as she kept trying to pat it into submission. At that point, I made a plug, "screwed" it in, and had her return to the couch to get on with her life, while I did my best to clean the washcloth - and that effort was rewarded.

After the consultation, we headed over to the lab area for Gloria's now-weekly labs to make sure all is going well. Of course, we knew that from the hospital's labs yesterday, but everybody wants "their own!"

We arrived at the hospital at 1 p.m. - Gloria's appointment time. Since her tummy was sore and, as a result, it bothers her to stand, she opted for a wheelchair. Not knowing that the echo was done at the same place as the imaging done for breast cancer, we said we didn't know where to go, so one of the volunteers said she'd take us.

The doors closed as we continued to chat. Soon they opened. A fellow waiting to get in stepped aside to let us out and we moved into the hallway.

Almost immediately, our helper was confused ... not sure where to go. Since we didn't know, we were clueless as she first turned right, then stopped, then turned left ... and then laughed!

"We’re still on the first floor," she remarked.

Apparently we had been so busy with the story - she telling it and we listening to it - that we hadn't noticed the elevator had not moved before the fellow we had seen pressed the call button. When the doors opened, we assumed we were on the second floor, but were really still on the first.

We called the elevator again, went in, and then made sure it completed its journey before exiting.

Before we left home, we had called Koeneke's office to let them know about the ER visit and all that had transpired after. His office called back while we waited for Gloria to be called for her echo and the gal asked whether Dr. Horn had prescribed any antibiotics for a possible bowel infection. I said he had not as Horn and the GI specialist had concluded that she didn't appear to be so afflicted.

After Gloria left for her echo, the gal from Koeneke's office again called. The doc had prescribed two antibiotics "just in case."

When Gloria was finished, she checked with the pharmacy, but the drugs weren't ready. She "toyed" with the idea of a fish sandwich from McDonald's - she must be feeling better - but then decided she wanted some hot green beans with melted butter on them. Her wish is my command - so we headed home.

She had her green beans and later in the day had more, as well as some fruit cocktail. That hydrocodone is definitely helping!

I received an e-mail from Art, my cousin-once-removed, that my cousin Claudia - his mother - had died the previous night. She was 94, but had only complained of a slight cold before going to bed that night.

I am constantly amazed how the smallest of things can make a huge change in a person's life and so it was with Claudia and husband Karl. Dad's family was somewhat spread and none of them lived in Appleton. So while I saw relatives from my mother's family weekly, some of dad's we wouldn't see for years. But a comment I made about all the time I had spent at various family cottages, all of them connected to my mother's family, led to Gloria deciding she'd surprise me by renting a place the following summer. She had met Karl and Claudia, who had a place on a lake in the north woods. She contacted them, asking for advice, which eventually resulted in our buying our own place in Northern Wisconsin. That led to their treating us to many snowy Christmas dinners and boating trips with our kids - including our adopted German kids - about the Chain-O-Lakes in the summer. There are a lot of memories tied to them and Gloria decided her next column will be about some of those.

Gloria and I had recently mentioned several times about getting some of our Christmas decorations out, so when around 6:00 p.m. she mentioned it was the right time to start the candles - 6:00 p.m. on and 2 a.m. off - I popped open the big pack of AA batteries and began the process. We had them all operational within a few minutes, except for one I'll have to take a look at.

I could say that we watched an episode of "Morse" in the later evening, but to be honest, Gloria watched it and I slept through most of it.

As bed time approached, it almost seemed like "normal" times - those times when we had gone to bed, not with her body in pain, but just tired after a routine day. And she slept exceptionally well that night, probably partly due to having a half of a hydrocodone at 10 p.m. and a second half at about 1 a.m. Prior to the one at 10 p.m., she hadn't had one since we had arrived home after the echocardiogram.

Wednesday, December 10 - I spent most of the morning converting my notes on the past few days into posting format. Gloria awoke about mid-morning and if Monday was an awful day, today she seemed half way to normal.

That said, her lower GI tract is still - to use her words - on fire. But she was expressing interest in food, despite dealing with some diarrhea. So while I had a can of spaghetti and meat balls for lunch, she opted for chicken noodle soup and fruit cocktail.

I went into town in the afternoon and stopped at the Dillon's pharmacy to pick up her two prescriptions - the hydrocodone from Dr. Perry and the two antibiotics from Dr. Koeneke. Then it was off to work, followed by Walmart to procure a bunch of items on the grocery list, as well as some oil for the Cadillac.

She came out to help with the groceries when I arrived home circa 8:00 p.m. I had purchased more applesauce and chocolate pudding and replenished the chicken noodle soup supply.

My mother's brother Art - my uncle - was always very active and as president of various portions of Kimberly Clark, his "claim to fame" was his ability to troubleshoot situations. He was a "fix-it" guy. So when his sister Ione developed cancer, he was continually helping in various ways.

But when it eventually became clear that there was not going to be any happy ending and there was nothing left to fix, Art found it difficult to handle ... there was nothing he could do.

I understood his frustration as we had spent so many hours together when I was young and feel I knew him well. But I think those feelings when Ione was approaching the end were more of a sympathy sort of thing.