It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

Or, it's Amos.


Here is something so cute that you will literally die when you view this picture.


Seriously. Get ready to be dead.

And here's a smaller version of me hiding behind an even smaller person. I'm down 27 pounds and counting. Woo.

Halloween was a hoot. Amos soon learned the joys of shoving a bag in the faces of strangers and friends and then receiving candy loot in return.


I am tired after a night of herding small people toward scary houses. I voted today. On Tuesday, I can kick back and relax as my fellow Denverites shift from one foot to another as they wait in long lines.

Not us, brother. Not us.


Happy Halloween.

Wee ooh, Phil looks just like Buddy Holly...

Oh oh, and I'm Mary Tyler Moore.

Of course, this means I am in Lubbock, Texas. In the LaQuinta, next to none other than the Buddy Holly statue that is a wee bit creepy and apparently means the world to the home town of said fellow. Forget Texas Tech University. Lubbock is all Buddy, all the time.

What else does this mean?

It means I am nowhere near San Antonio, and only hundreds of miles (heheh) away from MY home. Oh, Denver. How I long to caress your thighs. I just need to travel through the bowels of Amarillo and the belly button of Pueblo before I can do that.

Currently, Amos is running around like a crazy person as he works off hours of time spent strapped to a carseat. Wilbur the Cat just took a giant cat potty break in her cat box, followed by Amos taking a giant baby diaper break. I suspect the other two Porters will soon follow their lead. Such is the life of vagabonds.

Suggestion to those traveling through Big Spring, Texas:

Do not, I repeat DO NOT, ever eat at the Wendy's in Big Spring. They tried to serve me a bloody burger. Sorry, Big Spring fast food workers. I am not fond of contracting your E. coli surprise.

Other than that, we give a big thumbs up to LaQuinta. Thank you for your soft beds and your free breakfasts (especially the giant do-it-yourself Belgian waffles). I heart you, LaQuinta.

But not as much as Denver.

Dear lover...

Hi, Colorado. Do you miss me? I miss you. Mmm. What are you wearing? A turtleneck? Mmm. Sounds snuggly. I guess it's chilly up there. Mmm. I wish I was there to warm you up, Colorado. I'd put you between my lady pillows and hug you so tight. Mmm. I want to feel you, Colorado. Mmm. I want to feel you up gooooood.

Oh.

Um.

Hi.

So, Colorado, I'll be there soon. Sooner than you think. You might even call that day "Sunday." It's a day full of sun, did you know that?

Mmm.

Guess what, folks?


I'M GOING HOME!!!!!!

That's all. Resume your normal Internet activities. The woman-on-state porn is now concluded.

Teddy Grahams are good for the gullet

Sorry for not updating since Friday. It’s been, as you can imagine, a wild ride.

Despite the television-drama-esque way that the doc came to me and asked for my permission to remove my mother’s colon, things turned out better than he had painted. Yes, he did remove a portion of her colon, but he was able to reconnect the two ends after removing about 4 or 5 inches of colon that was embedded with the tumor.

Did I mention the size of this thing?

The tumor was the size of a honeydew melon.

Yikes.

And now, this series of events has turned into an episode of “House”, as we try to find the origin of the tumor. Because it was embedded in the uterus and colon, and because it consists of two types of cancer cells (I believe he called it a carcinosarcoma or some such), the doc sent off samples of the melon-tumor to the pathologist for testing and to a lab in California to find the right chemo drugs to battle the remaining itsy-bitsy tumors that remain inside her abdomen. It’s possible that it is a uterine cancer rather than ovarian.

I’m telling you, if the next doctor to visit with us is using a cane and has a biting wit while making his interns cower in his presence, I’m going to demand an actor’s salary.

Mom is recovering nicely after her surgery. She is still in the hospital, and her recovery is going better than expected. At least we have that going for us, eh?

Phil, Amos, and I are holding down the fort while my sisters are back home. Phil decided that enough was enough last night, so he attacked me in the hallway and took me like a swarthy character in a cheesy romance novel.

So, um. That was fun.

I think we are going to go to the zoo tomorrow to try to add just a wee bit of normalcy back into our little family life. Since I can’t do the healing for my mom, I suppose the least I can do is ensure that wee Amos is having some good times. He did discover the joys of Teddy Grahams, so he has that going for him.

And, blah blah blah. I’m still in Texas. Want to know how far my Texas-induced insanity has gone?

I’ve been watching football.

And liking it.

The end times are near, my friends, when this lass begins to cheer for overpaid athletes.

Live long and prosper

Well. Um. Yeah.

Sitting in the sublevel of Methodist Hospital in San Antonio. Across the street is the Health Science Center where I honed my skills as a molecular biologist oh so many years ago. Somewhere on this floor, a doctor has his hands inside my mother's abdomen.

My mother has ovarian cancer, and it was discovered that the tumor is too large to treat with only chemotherapy first before surgery. Instead, the gynocologic oncologist wanted to do surgery and then chemo. We agreed. About two hours ago, the doc called me aside and asked me to make a decision about my mother's innards:

The tumor is large. BIG. GIANT. It grew into the uterus, but even worse, it grew into the signoid colon. This means that in order to remove this tumor, roughly the size of a cantaloupe, the doc must remove my mom's colon. He asked for my permission. As the assigned person with medical power of attorney (which we set up only yesterday), I said yes.

He hurried back to Mom who was still on the operating table with some of her female parts already removed, and more to be excised upon my decision.

And now, my mom is either having her colon rebuilt, or she will wear a colostomy bag for the rest of her life. And that's not what any of us expected.

It's a bit bizarre to be the one who said, "Yeah" to the removal of my mother's colon. It had to be done.

So, I sit here in the sublevel of the hospital, surrounded by Phil, Amos, and my two sisters. We have our brave faces on, and we await the signal that Mom is out of surgery and on her way to a recovery room.

And I am preparing myself for eventually telling her that her colon no longer exists.

Her doctor is a Star Trek freak. I greeted him with the split hand gesture of the Vulcan race. He now thinks I'm great.

So, live long and prosper, Mom. We'll get through this.

My presidential platform

Here is what I would do as president:

- universal healthcare
- free wifi Internet no matter where the hell you are (especially in Texas)

That's it.

Vote for me.

How the heck are ya, Internetz?! I'm sitting at some random coffee shop in New Braunfels. I'm drinking some sugary drink that will probably launch me straight into type II diabetes, but it means I am able to access "free" Internet, and that's what matters. You're welcome.

My mom's life is topsy turvy. She's in the hospital being treated for extreme anemia. On Friday, she will endure the most invasive surgery of her life to rid her body of the demon tumor that is engulfing her abdominal cavity. Lots of other things have happened.

I'm still in Texas. That's about all that matters.

Oh, and my oldest sister is here, which is very cool.

I hope you are well, Internetz. I have not abandoned you. Wifi access, however, has damned me to hell and denied me the sweet sweet blood of life which is ability to shout at you via keyboard. Again, I would vote for lots of people if they would get free national (nay, INTERNATIONAL) wifi access for everyone.

I implore you, politicians.

Make it so.

(* my hooha is doing fine, thanks. Amos is great. All is well.)

Step right up and kiss the bacteria

I come to you in Dial-Up-O-Vision. It will take 5 thousand years to write this and post it, but gosh darn it, that's exactly how much time I have out here in the middle o' nowhere.


So, yes. We did not attend the Unicorn fest. After I wrote the last blog, Phil and I decided to buy up some Rudy's BBQ (because it is DEEEEE-licious). On the way from Schlotzsky's to Rudy's, I noticed a Texas Med Clinic.


Conveniently, we were able to get wireless Internet, bbq, a doctor's exam for my hooha, and a Wal-Mart prescription all within a few highway exits of each other. Ain't Texas grand?


Thank you, Schertz/Selma and Interstate 35, for your hospitality.


The med clinic snubbed our insurance (*shakes fists in the air*), but what are you going to do when you are nowhere near your home and bacteria have taken refuge in your bladder? A(n) urine test showed that I was positive for nitrites and white blood cells and negative for pregnancy (happy anniversary, Phil). The positive thingies meant that I am most likely fighting a yucky wee beastie up in my pee parts. The exam indicated that I did not have beasties in my kidneys - yet. So, now I am ingesting a lovely antibiotic that I am reluctantly taking despite my fervent previous declarations against antibiotics.


Why did I change my tune for this situation?


Well...


Normally, when I've had urinary tract infections (and I'm sure you want to know this), a load of caprylic acid, uva ursi, and cranberry pills would do the trick. The current situation was not clearing up with my usual arsenal of natural remedies. I believe I was infected by an emergency room nurse/attendant.


Did I mention that I went to the emergency room a few weeks ago? Oh, yeah.


So, a few weeks ago, I was having roving burning/tingling sensations in my right leg behind my knee, in my arms, and my chest. Despite not having any swelling, it could have been an indication of a blood clot. I became increasingly worried. Phil took me to the hospital. I had said the magic words - "chest pain." So, they hooked me up to an EKG, inserted an IV, and monitored every vital including the stock market.


To test for blood clots, they needed a blood and urine sample. Unfortunately for me, I was having my lady time of the month. They needed a lady time interference-free pee sample, so instead of letting me pee into a cup, they insisted on inserting a catheter into my bladder. I allowed it. It hurt like all get out. Despite cleaning my parts with iodine, I suspect that the overworked nurse/attendant inadventantly introduced bacteria directly into my bladder when she inserted the catheter.


Yay for me.


So, imagine my worry. Was it just bacteria from my own body that she introduced into my bladder? Did she send some super-resistant hospital strain of E.coli or pneumococcal bacteria or rickets or scurvy or tennis elbow up my bladder? Could it have been butt bacteria (yes, I'm going to stick to that term) from the lady next to me who was having the most awful diarrhea ever to encounter an emergency room? Her fumes were so loud and full of body that I think they could have carried a jetliner from across the room.


So, not knowing exactly which beastie was having a party in my bladder (let's hope it's not butt bacteria from the "gastro-lady"), I relented and allowed my body to encounter antibiotics.


Yes, I'm feeling better.


In other news, Amos managed to pick up a stomach virus from somewhere (*shakes fists at Texas*). His explosive baby parts are beginning to resemble Gastro-Lady. Thankfully, he is better today.


Oh, and I didn't have a blood clot. I was diagnosed with paresthesia - abnormal burning/tingling sensations. Um. Yeah. That's what I said when I went in there. So, I go in with burning/tingling and come out with a bladder infection. Thank you, health care. They said to follow up with a doc and find out if it could be related to the Bell's Palsy I had as a teen, or it could be early signs of multiple sclerosis. Yay for me.


In light of our recent health woes, I'm beginning to think that Texas dislikes me just as much as I do her (him?). Perhaps I should stop shaking my fists so much in the general direction of this state. The eyes of Texas are upon me (and my bladder).

Smear the Volunteers

That's what I'll be yelling tonight, if my kidneys cooperate.

Or maybe I'll yell, "Get off the field, you pussy peace corp mutha effahs!"

Tonight, perhaps, I will support the New Braunfels Unicorns (yes, Unicorns) as they smear the Lee High School Volunteers. My urinary tract infection has possibly traveled to my kidneys, so I am sore and tender and not feeling my best. But, when faced with the opportunity to make the sign of the unicorn (which I made up and tease my nephew with - holding my arm out over my head like a unicorn horn), I must do my duty to watch Texas high school football.

Unless my kidneys explode. Then all bets are off.

We are once again at the Schlotzsky's stealing their beautiful Internetz. Amozsky is once again eating cheesecake. Someday, he will be 10 years old and weigh 300 pounds, and we'll say, "Yes, but we had to buy something in order to use the Internet, so you must eat this cheesecake."

I lost almost 2 lbs since writing my sad tale of little weight loss yesterday. I guess when I threaten my metabolism with bodily harm, it bucks up. I didn't realize that my body needed a drill sergeant.

Blah blah blah. I'm in Texas.

Tell me a story. Anything. For the love of all that is Texan, for Pete's sake. TELL ME A STORY.

Cheesecake is for children (aka, Hell... Hell is for Children)

Dear Pat Benatar fans: You're welcome.

So, yes. Another day in paradise. Ahem. We are stealing Internetz from Schlotzsky's Deli. The Buffalo Wild Wings place rebuffed us like the non-sports fans we are and denied us access to their free wireless Internet, so we were forced to come here. The pushy waitress tried to get Phil to order more beer. His response: "If you get the Internet working, then I'll drink more." I never saw a waitress hustle more for a little bit of additional tip than that lady. Too bad it didn't work.

So, Amos just finished off an authentic piece of Schlotzsky's cheesecake. I have no idea if Schlotzsky's is famous for their cheesecake, but Amos was grateful. I do know that Schlotzsky's is difficult to spell. Perhaps they should enter it as a word to challenge the national spelling bee kids.

Life continues here in the state of Texas. Mom is home and being cared for by the poor man's nurse, or in other words, me. I get the juicy job of forcing her to eat, take her pills, give her injections of a blood thinner, and take abuse. I'd like my salary now, thankyouverymuch.

I managed to attend a football game, as mentioned previously. Perhaps we will gawk at my nephew's game tomorrow evening. As I said, football is a required activity when one settles into Texas. I was asked if it is indeed like "Friday Night Lights." Yes, but with less attractive people playing the parts. This ain't Hollywood, you know.

Phil saw an armadillo last night as he dragged the trash can out to the taxiway. That's very exciting. Taxiway, for those who are scratching their heads, is the term used for the road behind my mother's house. The house is on a private airport, you dig, so there are single engine airplanes and whatnot flying around at all times. It's a bit trippy to look outside and see a pickup going down the taxiway followed by a Cessna 172. Then, the armadillo joins the parade. As you can imagine, we make some cotton candy and then open our arms as they throw mints and beads in our general direction. (Did I just make a cheesy parade joke? You bet your armadillo, I did.)

I've managed to lose only an additional 0.7 pounds since my stay here. I suppose stress and such are playing their part on my metabolism. It isn't fair that I haven't cheated on my diet, and yet my weight barely drops. Boo, I say. I'm surrounded by some of the most delicious Mexican food on the planet, and I've resisted. And yet, my body fails to reward such monumental feats. Boo. I am, however, beginning to fall out of my pants that I brought. I suppose that's something (but it's not a plate of tacos, if you know what I'm saying, and I think you do).

Well, Amozsky is getting fidgity, so I suppose I must relinguish my precious Internet connection and head back to the land of armadillos and airplanes. Until I join the current century again...