Back to Stitching

I find I am somewhat distracted as I return to my stitching, moving from project to project and making little progress on any. Currently, I am working on the Jacobean Elegance afghan, a Rhodes stitch needlepoint sampler, an Easter egg ornament, a napkin and napkin ring reproduction from the Royal Albert museum and a piece of my own design, Beach find pansies.  None of them hold my attention for long.  Like the bee in the napkin design, I flit from stitching stand [the needlepoint] to Q-snaps [the afghan] to hoops [all the others],  I'll post some photos when I can get outdoors with my trusty, if ancient, first generation digital camera.  For now, there is still too much snow in the backyard, being sheltered and overshadowed by 6 foot fences and a retaining wall

I have spent more of my time reading.  Just before I went into hospital, I had started re-reading the Brother Cadfael Chronicles by Ellis Peters.  I had seen the Masterpiece Mystery series starring Derek Jacobi and read as many of the books as had come to hand back in the day.  But this time around, I decided to read all 20, and in order.  To that end, I had my husband order any of the books missing from my collection.   It would be unfair to expect the same enjoyment from my DVD collection as from my newly completed book collection.   I understand that screenplays are a separate art form with their own advantages and disadvantages.  But I so prefer the stories in book form as richer in detail and imaginative texture.  All the minor characters that are deleted or subsumed within the regular denizens of Shrewsbury in the TV series are present in full individuality, and even quirkiness, in the books.  Incidents glossed over, locales eliminated and historical background lost in the screenplays appear in full glory in the books.  A much more satisfying experience!  Not to mention that the elegance and precision of Ellis Peter's prose style is rarely equaled, especially in your standard mystery or historical fiction genres.

If you have fond memories of the TV programs, I recommend reading the chronicles in their entirety.

I find myself wishing that Derek Jacobi. had had the opportunity to film all the Cadfael stories, as David Suchet did Christie's Poirot stories.  For all that I shall always love the books more dearly, the programs were excellent and true to the spirit of the books.  And in one detail they were certainly superior to the books: the oily piety and false humility of that quintessential weasel, Brother Jerome, is brilliantly portrayed on screen.

Adventures in Health Care

I am back after a little over a month [it all started 2-14] in hospital and nursing home and I have even less faith in the medical institutions than ever.  I trust a few carefully selected doctors but other than that ... well, I seem to have been dealing with the half of the population that was deservedly ranked in the bottom half of their class.  It started out as severe edema, stemming from kidney disease, dominoing into congestive heart failure,IBSD and pneumonia.

Some of the highlights: 

After my first ultra-filtration dialysis, I had a series of low glucose readings culminating in a hypoglycemic episode during which my glucose numbers dropped to 39 at 3a.m.  It presented with all the classic symptoms of hypoglycemia: inability to move, to speak, perceiving the environment as through a darkened glass and people as moving shadows.  I thought I was having a stroke and was unable to call for help except by loud grunting and groaning.  The night nurse, who had known me for three days and knew me to be alert and in full command of my faculties as well as knew me to have had a series of low glucose readings,  came up with the brilliant diagnosis of "nightmares' and restrained me in bed with tightly tucked in blankets.  I was left in that state for three hours until the morning vitals check.  The PCA called the same nurse but luckily she was followed shortly by a more competent colleague who mobilized the rapid response team and brought my sugar numbers up with dextrose.

A nursing home nurse who tried to give me someone else's medicine's even after I pointed out that there were far too many pills in the cup and none of which resembled my pills.  He finally decided to check and lo and behold, came back with my medications and a story about how the pharmacy sometimes substituted one manufacturer's version of a drug for another ... as if trying to cover up the obvious differences in quantity and appearance between the first and second cup of pills.

Not one but two, dietitians who seemed to think beets, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, corn, carrots peas  and various kugels, kashas and varnishkas [often in pairs] were appropriate choices for a diabetic.

A nurse who tried to administer medication that had been given to me just a half hour previous ... does no one read charts anymore?

A dialysis clinic that was not equipped with blankets to keep patients warm as the procedure induced severe chills.  It gave me a whole new appreciation of the old acronym B.Y.O.B..

I came home to a house I  was ashamed to own as my own.  My husband views every flat surface as a shelf - this includes floors - and the place was littered with stuff he simply hadn't bothered to put away: opened and unopened mail, unfolded laundry, books, dishes [clean and soiled] and whatever happened to have been used in my absence.

Nature conspired with my husband by dumping 24inches of snow on us and creating temps so low that the rear window of one of our cars shattered into spider web cracks and we now have a leaking roof ... a flat roof and heavy snow are not a good combination.

So, that was my month.  I sincerely hope yours was ever so much better.