Guess I'm officially part of the family

I now get *those* kinds of emails (ya' know, the "inspirational" or "affirming" or whatever kind that you need to forward to your 100 favorite people...) from SM's aunts on both sides of the family. And he only has two aunts.

Does SM get these emails? Um, no. Just me.

I take it as an indication of affection...

Update on my bro...

He leaves for Afghanistan sometime this week. Even though his job is more administrative than combat-related, it still scares the crap outta me that he is going to a war zone. Please keep him and all our troops in your thoughts.

Some scary shit

My brother is deploying to Afghanistan for six months at the end of the month. He's a reservist, and I think his job involves air transport. I don't know exactly what he does, but I do know he's not infantry or anything like that.

This isn't the first time he's deployed, but I do think it's the longest. And I can't help but be worried.

My mom is definitely going to be very happy when this summer arrives -- that means her baby will be home and so will mine.

Some historical perspective

On the baby's gender, that is...

As everyone knows, we are going to find out the sex of the baby, as soon as the baby lets us. Both SM and I believe our kidlet is a boy. Most everyone else seems to think the baby is a girl. As one friend said, she pictures me with a girl — but then she went on to say, “But I’m always wrong, so that means it’s probably a boy.”

But here’s some food for thought. If you look at the biological parents of each generation, we seem to have a bit of a family tradition: first-born boys.
* SM's and my generation, circa the late 1960s: both sides (two families), our parents’ first-born were boys — SM, my brother
* Our parents’ generation, circa the late 1930s: both sides (four families), our grandparents’ first-born were boys — SM's uncles J. and C., my dad and my mom’s older brother J. who died as an infant
* Our grandparents’ generation, circa 1910: okay, this is where some first-born were girls

I find it curious that we have to go back one hundred years, literally, before you can find a first-born girl on either side. I believe that my maternal grandparents were both younger siblings of first-born daughters. I’m not sure about my dad’s grandparents or SM's side.

So it’s a tradition for both of our families: first-born boys since the early 1900s.

I wonder if this observation will change anyone's mind to thinking we're having a boy...?

Best reaction yet

We've started to tell our families about the baby. We decided to do it all over Christmas (when we'd see people in person) using Christmas presents. As predicted, both my and SM's dad were kinda thick about figuring it out. Took them a while to get it. But SM's aunt (his mother's younger sister) had the best reaction by far so far.

We gave my dad a picture frame that spelled out B-A-B-Y. In the picture part, we wrote, "Grandma & Grandpa -- See you in July!" He thought it was a frame for my niece (who just turned one). It took my stepmother looking at it and then looking at us for confirmation to get it. Silly dad. SM's dad was similarly dense. We gave him a book "Memories for my Grandchild" that has all sorts of prompts for the grandfather to fill in details about his life for the grandchild. On the cover of the book, under the words "Memories for my Grandchild", we put a sticky-note that said "ETA July 2011". He didn't get it. SM's brother-in-law did, however, and told us, "Congratulations!" That's when SM's dad got it.

As for SM's aunt, we decided to tell her covertly by giving her a framed picture of Gidget. She is an animal NUT; she has more pictures in her living room of her various pets over the years than her children, and she loves Gidget even though she's never met her (go figure). The picture said "Only child" in large print under Gidget's face, and in smaller print, to the side, it said "Until July".

When SM's aunt opened the present, unfortunately, the glass in the frame had broken so she couldn't get a good look at it. I had to prompt her to really read what it said. At first, she was confused and wondering if what she thought we were telling her was in fact what we were telling her. Then she half whispered, "You're pregnant?" When we confirmed, she shrieked -- and I mean SHRIEKED -- for at least 30 seconds straight. Then she burst into tears and was beside herself, alternately mumbling and covering her face, for several minutes.

Even funnier were other's reactions to SM's aunt (who is well known to be melodramatic). A couple of people didn't catch on why she was going berserk, so they were just confused and probably shocked at all the hysterics. SM's aunt kept saying, "We're having a baby! We're having a baby!" Then it became, "I'm having a baby!" (Silly me for thinking this was more about me/SM!) LOL. Then I kept thinking -- hmm, none of our other Christmas presents are going to be nearly as good as that, so she may as well quit opening them now! It was great fun for us, though.

When SM's dad came to pick us up later, SM's aunt went up to him, gave him a hug and said, "We're having a baby!" He kinda did a double-take and then laughed. She also told us she was going to come down to DC when the baby came and move in with us to help out.

I'm just glad she didn't invite herself into the delivery room!

Another interesting, but not nearly as dramatic, reaction was SM's grandfather. When SM told him that we were having a baby and expressed our cautious excitement (because of my "advanced maternal age"), SM's grandfather started comparing our pregnancy to George Bush's experience, that George and Laura were trying to have children but were almost ready to give up and try adoption when they got pregnant with their twins, etc. SM's grandfather (a staunch R, can you tell?) then went off on a tangent about what a wonderful man W. is, etc. SM's grandmother kept trying to steer him back by saying, "I think we should be talking about SM, not George Bush." But SM's grandfather would not be deterred easily. He wanted to tell SM all about W. Ahh, grandparents! LOL. But, of course, they were very happy and excited for us.

My re-cap of the Avon Walk last May (because I said I'd post this in the post below)

(Note: this is the email I sent folks who supported my participation in the Avon Walk for the Cure, this past May.)

33.3...

Miles, that is. Although, it felt just about that hot (in Celsius) this weekend while we were walking. Yes, this past weekend, I finally did the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. No, I didn't train all that much for it, but somehow I survived... no thanks to Mother Nature! After all the 60-degree weather during the week, Mother Nature decided to slam us with 90-degree weather on Saturday and Sunday. And oh, the humidity!

Day one started with my sister and I getting up at oh-dark-hundred to be down at the Washington Monument by 6:15 AM. For those of you who know us, that in itself is a major sacrifice. Ooof. The opening ceremonies started at 6:30, and the walk officially began at 7:00 AM… while many of you were still asleep and I certainly would have been on any other Saturday.

The first many miles were through the streets of downtown DC. And while DC is a beautiful city, I felt like we weren’t making any progress because we were still in downtown DC after walking for several hours. In fact, it took us 6.2 miles to get from the Washington Monument to Union Station. For those of you who aren’t familiar with DC, it’s actually only about 1.5 miles across the Mall. We definitely took the scenic route – and then some. I was happy to see hubby SM who was at the first “cheering station” to provide lots of moral support, hugs and “atta girls” for us, and then onward we schlepped, past Georgetown Law, through the gates of Chinatown block and near the White House before heading north towards Dupont Circle. (Apologies to those who could care less about the geographic details.)

We hit the lunch break at mile 9.2 at about 10:15 AM. I have to say that I’ve never eaten lunch at 10:15 AM. But when you eat breakfast at 5:30 AM and have been walking for several hours, you’re ready for lunch at 10:15. We stopped at a middle school in the West End (around 24th/M Street), just before crossing into Georgetown. Lunch was a nice break, but we didn’t want to sit too too long for fear of inertia keeping us down. So onward, onward!

At this point, the day was really starting to heat up. The streets of Georgetown were fairly well shaded, but that was small solace. We hit mile 13.1 somewhere in NW, and we were both still feeling pretty good physically – definitely better than we thought we would. It certainly helped that many, many people turned out all along the route to cheer us on, provide snacks and give us moral support. Our family as well as friends met us on MacArthur Blvd. for more “atta girls” and a change of socks for both of us. At this point, getting up and going again was getting harder and harder. Whenever we had to cross the street, we hoped for a green light. You might think that we would have preferred a red light for rest, but noooooooooo. That only gave our muscles the opportunity to tighten. Walking was easier than stopping. And hills? Whose bright idea was it to put in the hills after the halfway point? That’s just evil. I never realized what hills there were in NW DC. Ugh. Loughboro Road. Ugh. No fun.

Anyway, we continued through some very lovely neighborhoods in NW DC, and I saw some streets I’ve never seen before. Eventually, we crossed into Maryland at the Chevy Chase Circle, around mile 19 or so. We continued up Connecticut Avenue and into Chevy Chase where my friend C. and her two babies E. (of the cute toddler variety, in his stroller) and E. (of the cute four-legged doggy variety, on her leash) met us to cheer us along and walk with us for a few blocks. At mile 21.2, still in Chevy Chase, we took a fairly long break at a rest stop. Sis wasn’t feeling so great, so we parked our butts for a bit so that she could get some food and Gatorade.

After that, we continued along the Capital Crescent Trail and back over to Connecticut Ave up to Kensington Parkway where we picked up Rock Creek Trail (along Beach Drive). At this point, people kept saying that we were almost there, almost there… but they lied! We soon figured out that we still had several miles to go, which just isn't "almost there" when you're walking. Even though some guy told us around mile 24 that it was all downhill from there, it wasn’t. But none of us were going back to chastise him for it. But it was easier in the shade and the cooler temperatures of the late afternoon. We followed Rock Creek Trail past the Mormon Temple, back under the Beltway and then across East-West Highway to Meadowbrook Lane. Despite having grown up in the area, I had no idea there were stables and horses there!

At this point, the end was in sight. For real this time. SM met us at mile 25.8 to walk with us, and my stepmother (sis's mother) and sister met us too. We walked across the finish line into the “Wellness Village” (where many, but not us, camped overnight – you think I’m going to spend the night in a tent when my own bed is mere miles away? Nooo way. I would have walked home if I had to, to have my own bed and no line for a shower). Then we promptly walked back out and got into our respective cars to go home. I don’t know who was asleep sooner – sis or me – but I do know that I crashed pretty hard after 26.2 miles and being out from 6:30 AM to about 6:30 PM, which is about when we finished. During that 12 hours, we probably walked about 10 hours’ worth in some serious heat. When I got home and peeled off my shoes, I had one monster blister that was more than an inch long! Ouch.

Day two started, thankfully, a little later. The walk started at 7:30 AM, and since we didn’t have to go far to the starting point, I got up at 6:30 instead of 5-something. Yay for the extra hour! Sis and I started out in the disgusting humidity of Sunday, but since the sky was overcast and it had recently rained (ground was wet), it wasn’t too too hot... yet. Just muggy – and buggy! We were definitely taking a slower pace on day two. I was proud that I even made it out to the course. If sis had said that she wanted to bail on day two, I would have been right there with her. But we didn’t. We walked. However, I knew it was gonna be “one of those days” when I heard an “excuse me, may I get by?” from behind, only to be passed by a woman in a wheelchair… . (But we passed her again later.)

We walked down Rock Creek Trail but took a more direct route back to NW DC. I don’t remember the exact route, but we spent some time on Western Ave and down Nebraska to Fort Reno. We saw Dad’s alma mater, Wilson High, home of the Tigers. Somewhere along the way, as the sun started to come out and the temperature go up, I made the decision that I was going to call it a day at mile 7. I knew I could finish the whole 13.1 miles if I pushed myself, but I decided I didn’t want to. My blisters were hurting, and I admit it, I didn’t want to walk during the hottest part of the day (and Sunday was a doozy!!!). So I called SM and asked him to meet me at the cheering station at mile 7.1. With that decision made, it was much easier getting through the rest of the little stroll through NW. Sis hadn’t decided what she wanted to do yet, but I knew that I wanted to preserve the rest of my day from sheer exhaustion and my feet from further injury. We came down Nebraska Ave. to Tenley Circle where we picked up Wisconsin Avenue. I kept looking for the damned mile markers because – I swear – mile 6 was at least two miles long! We kept looking and finally saw the cheering station – with SM and a troupe of Chinese lion dancer (way cool!) – on Wisconsin Ave. Our family drove up, and I said my “hellos” and my “good-byes” because I ended my walk there – for a total of 33.3 miles over 2 days.

I have to say that the marathon (I’ve now done a marathon!!!) was easier than I thought it would be -- but that doesn’t mean I’m in any hurry to sign up for it again next year. My feet suffered tremendously on day two, and I am still hobbling around because of some very serious blisters. It was fantastic to have so many folks cheering us along the route, and SM spent his entire day on Saturday (and Sunday too) as our moral and logistical support. I can’t thank him enough.

And, as many of you may know, I was inspired to do this walk by SM's parents. SM’s mother had breast cancer, and SM’s dad cared for her for many years as they fought the disease. Sadly, SM's mom died from it at 51, and I never met her. But they raised a tremendous son, and for that, I am grateful. This was my small tribute to them.

(BTW, it took nearly two months for my feet to fully heal. I'll spare you the details, but I'm sure you can imagine the mangled toes, etc.)

Facebook

Here's another reason for EMcPan not to join FB (if she hasn't already listed it): so you'll never have to be "friends" with your parents.

My father recently joined and "friended" me.  Now, what the heck am I supposed to do with that?  First, I had no idea that he had the remotest clue what FB is.  Second, I don't necessarily want him knowing the stuff I post on FB.  I didn't tell him all of my shenanigans as a teenager, and I am not about to begin doing that now.

But I guess I am.  Because, really, if a parent "friends" you, then you sorta, kinda have to accept (unless they have a bad enough memory that they'll forget about it).  I mean, I don't want to have my allowance garnished or be grounded or anything...

Baachan, oyasuminasai

Grandma passed away tonight (May 24th). She never truly regained consciousness after the stroke.

Goodnight Grandma. Rest in peace. We'll miss you.

Updates

The plumbers are coming on Tuesday to begin the overhaul of our house. All the pipes are being replaced. We're also getting new toilets and a new shower downstairs. Cha-ching. Our house is going to be in complete disarray (more so than usual) for months. This stresses me out tremendously.

And, today I got the news that the doctors have pretty much given up hope that my grandma will regain consciousness, so the family has decided -- I think rightfully so -- to give her comfort care but take no extraordinary measures for her. In other words, hospice care until she passes away. We've already dismantled her apartment and moved stuff to storage. Now they are starting to give stuff away. Losing hope is a hard thing. She isn't dead, but she's definitely gone.

I am tremendously sad today. Maybe watching the final three episodes of Grey's Anatomy^* today wasn't such a good idea?



_{*where everyone dies}

Damn. Enough already!

Let's see, my past few months have included...
* bathroom leak that flooded the kitchen (February 12th)
* molar pregnancy and ensuing procedure (February 13th) while the baseball remains to be dealt with
* kidney transplant for Dad (March 31st) and follow-up care (ongoing)
* various car problems (ongoing)
* chipped my front tooth (May 3rd)
* ruptured pipe in ceiling that flooded basement (May 3rd), necessitating an overhaul of our plumbing and redoing pretty much the entire basement (it's gonna cost us a chunk)

And now, the worst thing yet.  My grandmother had a very serious stroke on Thursday last week (May 14th).  She's in the ICU.  At first, they didn't think she was going to survive, but she did.  And I had hope that she'd recover.  Maybe not fully, but at least functionally to some degree.  Before the stroke, she was completely lucid and active and lived independently.  Now, she meanders in and out of consciousness and has moments of partial lucidity.  But she spoke every so often and even opened her eyes.  She responded to stimuli and our voices somewhat.  And I had hope.

But it's been four days now, and the doctors are saying that they don't expect her to recover any further.  And I'm feeling a bit crushed.  I could deal with her condition well enough when I had the hope that she'd fight through it ('cuz she's really tough), but now I'm thinking my hope is futile.  And I am so. very. sad.  Grandma was so vibrant that it's hard to fathom that she isn't likely to recover.  There was no gradual decline.  She went from life in the fast lane (for a 94-year old, that is) to stop.

::sigh::

We'll find out more tonight.  But I don't feel so optimistic anymore.

New plumbing

Quick update: Dad's kidney transplant surgery went well, medically-speaking.  Tuesday was a nightmare of a day, but he was doing quite well yesterday and seems to be suffering only from the usual post-op pain, meds and fuss.  My stepmom is also doing quite well and will be discharged today, I believe.

The day of the surgery was surreal in terms of all the administrative screw-ups.  We were told that they were scheduled for surgery at 8:00 AM and had to be in the hospital at 6:00 AM.  My stepmom didn't actually go back for her surgery until 4:00 PM, and Dad didn't go back until 5:30.  We spent almost 18 hours in the hospital, at least 6 of which were unnecessary waiting due to the administrative error.  I'll rant more about this later.

The important thing is that they seem to be doing fine, and I am grateful for that.  The kidney also seems to be doing very well, and everyone is optimistic that it will continue to be a good little organ in its new home.

Thanks for all the well wishes.

Kidney update

Dad is good to go for the transplant this Tuesday. My stepmother (his wife) is the donor. The operations will be performed in New York. Dad and my older brother drove up today. My stepmother and various sisters will drive up tomorrow during the day. My younger brother and I will drive up tomorrow after work.

I'm starting to feel a little bit anxious about this. Not worried, but concerned because a transplant is serious stuff.

Tuesday morning is when it all begins. Dad's operation will last about 7 hours. I am confident that it will all work out just fine, but please send positive vibes for the surgeons and for Dad and my stepmom for successful surgeries. And then for speedy, easy recoveries.

Thanks.

I'll update when I can.

Dad update

Dad is a "go" for the kidney surgery, which means that my stepmother passed all the health tests. They'll do the transplant at the end of March.

Yay!

Now if Marion Barry, who is older than my dad and has done more drugs, women and jail time than my dad as well, can get through the surgery well, then I am very optimistic for my father's successful transplant.

Just knowing it's going to happen is a relief. I'm sure my dad must feel better too.

Kidney story

This is the story of a son who donated his kidney to a stranger so that his father could receive one. It is told from the perspective of the son and was really informative. And it totally made me bawl, given my current family situation. If you have about 15 minutes and want to learn more about what's involved in a kidney transplant, this is worth the watch.

The kidney, the baseball and the mole...

Where have I been? Oh, where do I start? I know I’ve been crap at updating this blog recently. I think I’m just too tired when I get home at night. And now I get home a bit later than I used to. With my new job, I leave home at 7:30 am and get home around 7:00 pm. I know that’s not a long, long day, but I’m crap in the morning. So the first few weeks of this new schedule were hard.

Anyhoo, what’s up with me? Let’s see… there’s the kidney, the baseball and the mole, to name a few. Where to start?

The kidney. So, my father is definitely going to need a kidney transplant. This isn’t news, but it may be necessary sooner than we had thought. Now, the family is now going through the process of who, when and how. It was decided that my stepmother is going to donate one of her kidneys, if she’s viable. Of course, this led to a “family discussion” about my dad/stepmother’s estate, living wills, advance health care directives, etc. Ugh. All very necessary conversations, but no fun at all. Especially when you’re talking about a mixed family. Step-siblings, half-siblings, etc. We all get along well enough, but it still isn’t the Brady Bunch.

And of course, me being the attorney, I had a ton of very specific questions. And I was very persistent in getting answers. What a pest. I asked my dad what their backup plan was if my stepmother didn’t pass the health exam. They didn’t have a plan. I told them they needed one. My dad said that he’d just go on dialysis. I told him that that wasn’t good enough. His health is important to and affects all of us. None of us want to see him on dialysis if there is another option for a donor. So they need to discuss that and let us know what they want to do. They agreed. My older brother is a match for a donation, but part of his career is tied to his military service. It seems that he wouldn’t be eligible for certain duty if he was missing a kidney. Or something like that. So my dad said he wasn’t willing to accept a kidney from my brother because he wasn’t willing to potentially jeopardize my brother’s career. I understand where Dad is coming from, but I personally think it’s crap. I don’t think one should sacrifice one’s health because of potential outcome if the donor wants to take the risk. But it’s not my decision. I am also a possible donor (same blood type). But Dad says that he’s not willing to accept a kidney from any of his daughters in their childbearing years because if we were to get pregnant, having one less kidney might complicate the pregnancy. Again, crap. Don’t sacrifice your health and well-being for a “this could possibly happen” scenario where the risk is small and the donor is willing. But again, not my decision. If he won’t accept a kidney from one of us, that really is his decision (although that doesn’t stop me from trying to change his mind).

Anyhoo, we don’t know who the “backup” is if my stepmother cannot donate. My other brother isn’t a match (wrong blood type). Meanwhile Dad’s health seems to be deteriorating. I don’t know how much is psychological and how much is physical. Knowing him, it’s probably both. He’s a lousy patient who doesn’t handle stress well and tends to blow things out of proportion. So, little things become big things with him. Not helpful now. Not helpful anytime really, but in this situation, it could have seriously negative consequences. State of mind and attitude are so important to physical health.

As it stands, Dad is scheduled to go to New York City next week for more tests. He’ll have the transplant up there when everything is worked out. Possibly at the end of March. They are planning on renting an apartment short-term (for several months) to make it easier for him to get to his appointments. They’ll probably hire a nurse to help him in the beginning, but after that, I think the kids will be taking turns to help -- taking off work and staying with him; stuff like that. Everyone seemed willing, for the most part. Except my stepbrother, who lives several states south of here. He pretty much said that he won’t be able to help because he has kids and is too far to do anything. And while I know that’s a practical reality, I still felt like he had the wrong attitude about it. And it irked me. I think he should have said that they will do anything they can; it may not be much, but they will try. Instead, they said they probably couldn’t do much. I was annoyed.

So that’s the issue with the kidney. Please cross your fingers that everything works out well for Dad – that he gets a good match, that the surgery goes without incident (no dropping kidneys on the operating room floor!) and that his recovery is easy. I am definitely worried about him, but I am also the type not to get bent outta shape and upset unless there is good reason. So I’m not too too worried, just anxious. I will worry when there is good reason. Until then, I’m confident that it will all be just fine. Right? Right.

Next: the baseball.

Last report from Iowa aunt...

SM's aunt, a fervent(?) and very thrilled Democrat, sent us this email today:

In [XYZ] County Iowa we had over 40,000 early voters.  That accounted for 1/3 of the eligible voters.  We had tons of people (a little bit of an exaggeration) sign up to vote for the first time on the day of the election.  I worked the polls and had over 1,000 people vote in my precinct.  My dad worked the polls and also had over 1,000 people vote in his precinct.  We had temperatures in the 70's and had great voter turnout.  I did have to turn away 2 people because they lived in Illinois, but used to live here and they wanted to vote here.  Since they lived across the river I had to tell them to go there.  The polls there closed earlier than Iowa, so they were already too late, but I had to follow the rules.  They should have thought of it earlier.

I was very pleased with the results of the election!  I know [SM's dad] thinks the world is coming to an end financially because of Obama, but I think he is wrong.  I guess time will tell.

Indeed, time will tell. The way I figure it, how much worse could things get financially?  And what SM's dad refuses to recognize is that at his retirement income, Obama's tax plan will help him out a whole lot more than McCain's proposal.  But, people believe what they hear from people they trust, regardless of the facts.

I guess time will tell.

"New" wheels

I've never owned a new car. Neither has SM. My first car was a 1982 Datsun 200 SX, bought for $3K in 1986 with 33K miles. I sold that to a friend when I moved to Japan in 1990. It had 66K miles after I drove it for four year. My second car is the one I still own and drive, a 1988 Toyota Corolla, bought for $5600 in 1994 with not even 27K miles. Now it has all of 90K miles.

So, yeah, I've only owned two used cars, but I bought them both myself.

SM's first car was a 1976 Plymouth Volare, cherry red with white leather seats, given to him by his father in 1986 (it was the family's extra car). His second was a 1980 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, bought from his grandfather for $600 later in 1986. SM's dad traded that in when he bought a new car (SM was annoyed because the Cutlass was his car). SM's next car was a 1986 Chevy Nova that he got from his dad in 1991 as a present. That one got totaled in a minor accident, and he got $900 from his insurance for it.

So basically, SM is $300 ahead in terms of cars, and he has never gotten a new car, nor one that was not previously owned by a relative.

Well, we are about to get a "new" set of wheels. It's a car that we have borrowed many time from my parents, and every time we do, SM says how much he loves it. It's a 1998 Acura RL. Apparently, my dad wants to get a new car, so they need to get rid of one of their fleet. Not to make room. Not for money. But because they just don't need as many cars as they have now. And adding one more on top of that would be just silly.

So dad offered to sell us the car. SM was very excited about it. We only have one car right now, my 1988 classic. We were going to pay something between trade-in and private resell Bluebook value for the Acura. Then, yesterday, my stepmother called and told us she would just give us the car. I don't know why the change. I guess it had something to do with my father bitching about how they needed to cut spending but then wanting to go out and buy a brand new car (yeah, that's my dad's logic). So my stepmother said they needed to get rid of a car, but I guess she wasn't so impressed that he was going to sell it to his kid. I dunno what they were thinking, but it looks like we're getting a very generous Christmas present.

Soon we'll have two cars, and the "new" one will be 10 years old. Yup, that's us. SM continues his trend of only getting cars from relatives. I continue my trend of only getting used cars, but this is the first one I haven't bought all on my own.

Even though it has 150K miles, the car is in good shape -- and much nicer than anyone we could ever afford on our own (or would consider buying).

Good news and bad news

I just got off the phone with my dad.  The good news is that he's doing better -- his energy is up; he's taking less medication; he feels more optimistic (and so do his doctors).

The bad news is what I haven't posted until now.  He's in kidney failure.  Almost.  Both kidneys have been in steady decline for some time with something like 20% function.  He has been seeing a myriad of specialists who have been discussing dialysis with him.  And possibly a kidney transplant.  That scares me.

The good news is that his health has improved such that he may not need a transplant (yet).  Just dialysis (probably).  He has additional appointments coming up.

The bad news is that he steadfastly was refusing to even consider a kidney donation from one of his kids (all of whom are adults, ranging from 24 to 43 years old).

The good news is that I just argued him into recognizing the stupidity of his intractability, and now he's open to the idea that if he needs a transplant, then he might consider accepting one from a family member if there's a good match.  He'll at least discuss the matter with the family rather than making a unilateral decision.

I am a good lawyer!  I just won my case. But more importantly, I got my dad to open up to possibilities that may help his health.

But I'm still scared for Dad.  Hopefully unreasonably so.

But then again, since when is fear reasonable?

One more ring story.

Because that last one wasn't long enough? (If you haven't read it, the next post below, read it before continuing with this one -- it's long, but it's the context.)

Well, actually, this is a story about SM's family. SM grew up with one brother and his parents in New England. His mother, sadly, died of cancer at the very young age of 51, seventeen years ago. SM's father remarried some years later.

So when SM and I decided to get hitched, I asked him if his dad might still have any of his mom's jewelry. I wanted something to represent her in the wedding. So she would be there too.

SM, of course, had no clue about his mom's jewelry, let alone what happened to it. But he knew why I wanted something and agreed to ask his dad about it.

So he called his dad to ask. His dad didn't say much, but later he sent this email to SM:

When your Mom and I got married, we could not afford an engagement ring.

Years later when I was working for [XYZ company] and life was good, she decided that she wanted a "rock". She did not care if it was flawed, she just wanted a big ring. (I still have that ring.)

In time she did not like that the flaws were so easily apparent to the naked eye and clearly we could afford something better, so we got her a new ring. I think that it is sometimes called a dinner ring. It is very pretty and looks to be of good quality.

You can have either ring.

One of her diamond earrings was lost when the ambulance took her to the hospital just before she died. The insurance company replaced it but I gave one of the earrings to [SM's brother] and the other to [stepmother] (I had it re-set and [stepmother] does not know that it came from your Mom).

I gave her pearl earrings to [her mother, SM's grandmother]. I have no idea what happened to them.

[SM's mother's sister] asked for your Mom's charm bracelet. This was the toughest of all her possessions for me to part with. The charms had real sentimental meaning not only to your Mom but to me as well. Perhaps you could ask [the aunt] if she still values it. If not, maybe that would be something that she would pass on to you.

I also have your Mom's Hummel and Balik collections. I have thought that at some time I would hand out one per kid at Christmas time. This is not anything that would appear on Antiques Roadshow, but you might appreciate the sentimental value in them.

Let me know what you think.

Thanks [SM], for allowing me to remember all this. Sometimes I miss your Mom a lot. This is one of those times. Whenever we had a big deal going on (like vacations and big events or purchases) she would just feel it and be in the groove and get it organized and make it work. Your wedding would be a wonderful event for her.

Isn't that amazing? I hope SM inherited that self-awareness and sensitivity.

Anyway, so SM and I discussed it. I asked him if he remembered the second ring, but he couldn't picture it. He thought it was shaped like a flower.

I told him quite frankly that a flower-shaped ring wasn't something I'd pick, but the point of this was to have something of her. My taste wasn't the issue or the central concern. I also told SM that I thought it might be nice if we let his younger brother (who has trouble with money-management issues) have the engagement "rock". I already have my rock and don't need another; plus, it's likely that the younger brother, when the time comes, will not be able to afford a diamond engagement ring. While I probably would prefer a solitaire over a flower-shaped design, I thought it much more important to pass the engagement ring to the brother. So, sight-unseen, we decided to accept the second ring. Which we did. And SM's dad will bring it down when he visits later this month.

I'm really pleased that I'll have these very important women represented during the wedding.

I was even more pleased when I saw this picture of the second ring.

Not only am I fortunate to have this heirloom symbol to represent SM's mother, but I'm also lucky that I actually think it's quite nice.

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue...

Folks who know me also know that I don't feel bound by tradition, although I can be a sentimental fool. I get sappy and tear up at the silliest things.

And this is totally spilling over to our wedding. It's definitely not traditional. No big white dress. No bouquet or flowers. No bridal party. No aisle, nor giving anyone away. I think our invitations definitely showed that we were doing this our own way.

But I'm not giving up every tradition. I got a big old bling ring. We are both going to have wedding bands. We'll see about the vows. And I did decide to do the "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" (and a penny in your shoe -- betcha' didn't know that was part of it!) thing. Okay, no penny, but the rest, yes.

And I've also decided that I am going to honor the women in my life with the four "somethings"... The old is the wedding band that my grandmother is giving me for the ceremony. It was hers from her wedding on March 8, 1936. It's a very narrow platinum band with several very small diamonds (which are barely visible). It's very old-fashioned looking and not something that I would have chosen were I to buy it new, but its value isn't just the metal and stones in the ring. I am getting a family heirloom, and I love that. I also note that my grandmother gave it to me. I am not the oldest of her grandchildren, nor the first to get hitched (my brother as well as a female cousin have been there, done that). I know that she is giving it to me because of tradition. I think part of it is that I am the oldest granddaughter and part of it is that she wants to keep the ring in the family (which is why my brother didn't get it; she didn't want to risk that he would get divorced and the wife would keep it). Maybe she also knows that I am the most likely out of all of her grandchildren to actually appreciate it as an heirloom. So that represents my paternal grandmother.

I asked my stepmother to come up with the "something new", which is kinda appropriate because she's the "newest" of the women. She bought me a necklace that should go with my dress and gave it to me for my birthday. I don't remember the name of the stone, but it's a light orange with gold spacers. I think it will match the flowers in the kimono.

The "something borrowed" will come from my mother. She doesn't have a lotta jewelry or stuff that would work with my wedding dress, so I think I'm going to borrow a pearl pin from her and wear it in my hair. That seems the most likely thing to wear since I already have a necklace, and none of the earrings she has would go with that necklace (unless I wore pearls, which I don't really want to do). Besides, she does have a "favorite" pin, so I think I would like something that she is fond of. I think. I haven't yet decided, but this is how I'm thinking now.

The "something blue" is an aquamarine ring that my maternal grandmother gave me years ago. It was one of the most precious things she owned. Yeah, my grandparents were among the working poor, so they didn't have many luxury items. In fact, their house was pretty spartan. Amazing to think of the contrast between my two grandmothers. One had a platinum wedding band with several small diamonds in it. The other had a very, very plain band of some inexpensive material. Polar opposites in so many ways.

But I digress. This is a story about the four "somethings" -- and specifically about that aquamarine ring that I'm going to wear.

Anyway, the aquamarine ring was given to me many years ago, while my grandmother was still sentient. Grandma gave away her three pieces of nice jewelry to her three granddaughters. One asked for and got her wedding band. I got the aquamarine ring because we were both born in March (our birthstone). My other cousin got the pearl necklace that my aunts/uncles/mother bought her when they were adults. I think I really got the best of the three. Not because of the market value or size of the ring, but because my grandmother really held it to be precious to her -- and because of the story behind it. The really cool part about this ring is the story behind it. Essentially it was a bribe.

Ya' see, when my grandmother was young -- early teens -- she and her older sister were sent off to Detroit (from western Pennsylvania, not too far from Pittsburgh) to work. It was very common for young girls to go work in factories like that back in the 20s. Especially girls from farms, as my grandmother and her sister were. They were sent off to earn extra money to send home. Anyway, while they were living in Detroit, the sister met a guy. They dated, and the guy eventually proposed to her sister. With a diamond ring. Sounds good, right?

Notsomuch.

'Cuz the newly-engaged sister also had a steady boyfriend at home. I don't know for sure, but she might have been hedging her bets with a back-up plan and man in case the boyfriend at home didn't come through with a proposal. Or maybe not. Maybe she was just lonely and looking for company, thinking the boyfriend at home would never find out. Yeah, that's always good for trouble. And she knew it.

So, sister with fiance and boyfriend was kinda double-dipping. When they (sister and my grandmother) went home for a visit, apparently the boyfriend had missed her so much that he too proposed.

Now sister had two rings and two fiances.

What's a girl gonna do with two rings and two fiances?

Well, when my grandmother and her sister returned to Detroit, the sister decided to break it off with fiance #1 because she really wanted to marry the boyfriend at home. Poor fiance #1. I'm sure he never saw it coming. After all, he had no idea about the boyfriend at home. But I doubt she told him the real reason for the breaking off the engagement. But, break it she did. And his heart. The poor guy was so distraught that he wouldn't take the ring back. A diamond ring. In the 1920s, no less. Who could afford not to take the ring back? But he didn't.

So, what's a girl gonna do with two rings and only one fiance?

Remember, the boyfriend at home (now sole fiance) didn't know about the newly ex-fiance. He had no idea and probably wouldn't have been terribly pleased to hear about her playing the field while she was off in Detroit. And since sister really did want to marry this guy and was not going to run the risk of him finding out, she had to make sure no one would tell.

Well, there were only three people that really knew about the second (well, chronologically the first) fiance: the fiance, the sister and my grandmother.

The heart-broken ex-fiance wasn't telling. He was gone for sure. The sister wasn't telling her new fiance (steady boyfriend at home). That just left my grandmother.

As I said, the sister really wanted to marry this guy, and she wasn't taking any chances that someone might spoil her plans. But how to ensure that my grandmother wouldn't blab?

A bribe, of course.

The sister took my grandmother and the diamond ring from the first fiance to a jewelry store. There, the sister traded in the diamond for two smaller, less expensive rings. One modest one was for herself. A keepsake, perhaps, from her short but memorable engagement? Who knows? The second was the bribe for my grandmother to buy her silence: an aquamarine ring (her birthstone).

I guess my grandmother didn't blab because her sister did marry that guy. And grandma kept that ring. I never saw her wear it, ever. I think she thought it was too precious and nice to risk losing it by wearing it (that's the way she was). Or maybe it was too showy. Or maybe, as her hands aged and her knuckles swelled from the ravages of arthritis, she just couldn't put it on anymore. I don't know.

But I do know that one night, while we were sitting in her dining room in the mid-late 1990s, she told me this story. About how her sister phenagled two engagement rings and then traded one in to dispose of the evidence and buy her silence about how the sister came to possess the ring (or its trade-in). And then grandma gave me, her one granddaughter who was also born in March, that lovely ring with its fantastic family history.

And that's the blue I am wearing for my wedding. A blue aquamarine ring from my now-deceased grandmother. It's lovely, but its sentimental value to me is much greater than its market value. I loved my grandmother. I love the ring, and I love the story of how it came into our family.

So there's my "something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue." The women who have shaped my life.