Mamamontezz's Mental Rumpus Room

A Special Event

For those of you unfamiliar with BDSM or the D/s lifestyle, this is a big event. If you'd like to know more about what a collaring is and what it means, there are many websites including the much maligned Wikopedia with information.

For those of you who are terribly disgusted by this, it saddens me. For those of you who can share in my happiness, I am grateful. And for those of you who really don't care one way or the other, I'm cool with that as well. Actually, I'd much prefer that.

Cross posted from the Spousal Unit's blog

I got a call from Delfts this morning letting me know that he may be released on Thursday. His spirits were not good, and honestly I can hardly blame him for that. It's a kick in the teeth to finally admit that a total lifestyle change is in order, especially when one's spouse can be a raving lunatic. It is also very sobering to find out that the disease he has is chronic, cumulative, and typically runs its course in 5 years. If you're lucky.

No salt.
No cigarettes.
No fats.
No caffine.
No lazy days spent entirely either in bed or at the computer.
No excuses.

He will make these changes, or he will die, simple as that.

My submissive, michael, suggested that I get some brochures and ask him go ahead and pick out his urn now in the hopes it will sink in that this is no longer a matter of mind over matter or willing one's self to be well in spite of one's behaviors, not that it ever truly was. Sounds cruel. Sounds tough. Maybe that is what is called for.

Honestly, I do not know what to do.

One thing is for certain, I have made sure that no longer will there be beef in abundance, unfettered use of salt, or rich foods in the house. Gone are the days of bringing in a half pound of 3yr old cheese that should have lasted for a very long time, even when shared by 4 adults, only to find it all gone the next day with nothing remaining but the wax rind on the floor in front of the television. And the days of going to the refrigerator to get a roasted chicken to make dinner and finding nothing but a plastic container of bones and scraps. And the days of bringing home sacks of White Castles. And the days of going to a nice restaurant and ordering the entire menu.

No more "Competitive Eating" as michael has so aptly described it.

So now in anticipation of Delfts' arrival home tomorrow, jane is vacuuming and cleaning and setting up his area in the family room so that he will be comfortable. When I get home from work tonight, we are going to pitch in together to clear out his computer desk area. Then I will go through the kitchen and hide everything that he cannot have. michael and jane have already agreed to keep any Blacklisted Foods that they buy for themselves in their room, and I have a small refrigerator to put in there so that they can.

I know he's extremely frustrated right now, a lot of it with me. I did not visit him for as long or as often as he wanted. Nor did I bring snacks and drinks, or sit and baby him like I have done in the past. I was not the loving and doting wife who plumped pillows and slept in a chair until 3am in case he needed a sip of water or a steadying hand to help him to the bathroom. I didn't because I couldn't.

I just wasn't able to emotionally. There is just too much anger and hurt right now, knowing that other than the waiting, he has ultimately succeeded in his passive suicide. There is too much betrayal from the belief that our marriage and our daughter were not good enough for him to want to make the changes he should have made four years ago at the onset of this, changes that would have allowed him to perhaps see Anna graduate from high school.

Every one of you, look into your mirror and take a long look at the person you see. Look around you at all of the people who's lives you touch every day. Look at your children, at your parents, at your husband or your wife and think about how terrible it would be to lose any one of them. Think of how you would grieve them, mourn their loss, miss them every day. Imagine holidays and birthdays and graduations and weddings without them. No more trick or treating, no more trips to the range, no more silly jokes, no more hugs, no more... life.

Now, put yourself in their shoes and know how your death will affect them.

Don't do to them what is happening here.

Cross-post from Delft's blog

I was awakened by a phone call from Delfts this morning at 6am. They had started an IV in anticipation of a catheterization and he was letting me know.

Even at that early hour, he sounded in much better spirits than he had the last several days. His breathing was easier and more relaxed, and he sounded rested. It was quite an improvement over Saturday when we arrived.

I'm still waiting for news on the procedure and what they found. I know they are looking for blockages in his bypass grafts and for a stenosis of his renal arteries. Each of these conditions can contribute to the increased blood pressure and ultimately the fluid build-up that is CHF. They've checked for the stenosis before to no avail, but want to look again to make sure there have been no changes over the last three years.

Hopefully Susan, his nurse on the CHF unit, will call shortly to let me know how the cath went. As soon as I have any news, I will append this post.

Update: I just got off the phone with Susan, the nurse with the sexy voice. (I'm sure that's driving Delfts mad.) She had good news and not so good news.

To start with, he got through the cath just fine. Regardless of how commonplace these things are, a catheterization is always a risky thing. Generally they don't like to do them unless there is no other way to get the information they need. He may think having 7 caths under his belt is no big deal. I beg to differ on that one.

What they found was not good, but neither was it as bad as it could have been. He does have some partial blocks in his bypass grafts. None of them is completely blocked. They want to treat them medically, not surgically, to open the grafts. Now, for 99% of patients, this is a good thing. For Delfts, however, this only means that ultimately they won't be treated.

Delfts has some real issues with Compliance. He is a Taurus, after all, and he knows everything better than anyone else does, especially if it affects him and his creature comforts in any way.

Medications? Only if he feels bad and the pills are within either arm's reach or I'm willing to go look for them for him.

Diet Change? And give up his favorite foods, foods like hard aged cheese, spicy amalgams of meat, pickled or cream style herring, and various wursts and smoked delicacies? I don't think so.

Exercise? Why, that would kill him, not to mention make him sweat and potentially miss a special on the Mating Rituals of Rhinos on Discovery Channel..

Oh, and what about Cigarettes? Do I really need to address that question?

*sighs and shakes my head*

Anyway... He's better. He seems to be improving each day. The tests revealed what I have believed for a long time. Now it is up to him. He can comply and be assimilated, or he can fight and end up in a hole. Basically, those are his choices. He'd best start taking them seriously.

Mamamontezz

Monday Update

From the Desk of Mama...

I went on my final break of the day to see the Spousal Unit. Bear in mind that I work in the basement in an obscure cul de sac behind food services in the north east corner of a huge campus, and that Delfts is on the third floor of an added wing, attached willy-nilly like a mis-chosen puzzle piece at the southwest corner of this same huge campus. Now consider I only had 15 minutes to get there, check on him, and get back to my official duties as the Voice of the Hospital.

So off I go, zigging and zagging, jigging and jogging, up the elevator, past heart patients on their little hallway walks between the big read hearts on the walls, each heart placed 25 ft apart to track their progress, until at last I reach the CICU. I round the bend at team 4, straight down the hallway toward team 3, hit the wall button for access, pick up steam at the nurses desk, then look up to see that his room is dark, the door wide open, the bed empty, and the entire unit is Delfts-Free.

I cannot describe the momentary feeling I had when I saw that room.

After I found my wits, I went to the nurse at the counter just outside the room and asked where he had been moved. She was not able to find his name in the census, so I put two and two together, decided on the new Heart Failure Unit, and walked over. And there he was, alone in his room watching Jesse James grind an exhaust pipe for some chopper on the Discovery Channel.

I wasn't able to talk to his nurse, but from what Delfts said he had a bad angina attack last night. They gave him morphine and darvocet to help with the pain from that. His blood pressure is now so low (for him, anyway) that he feels like he has no strength and is fainty. Even at that, his top number is 144 and his bottom number is fondling 100.

Because that is seen as progress, they decided he didn't need to be in the CICU any longer and put him in a "Step Down Unit" specific to CHF patients. His lungs sounded a lot clearer, they've turned down the volume of his O2, and his color is a little better.

I tried to get him to use the keyboard the hospital provides for wireless internet, but he can't figure out how to use it. Of course, he's still tying to figure out his basic, no frills cell phone, so there's not going to be enough time to teach him how to cruise the net from his room. He simply won't be here long enough.

Hopefully he'll be better tomorrow and they will make a decision on cathing him again or not.

At the very least, he's had his last cigarette, whether he knows it now or not.

A last note: To all of the wonderful people, friends and strangers, old acquaintences and new ones, Emperors and minions, you cannot imagine how much your kindness has meant to all of us.

Each comment has been printed and taken to Delfts so that he can read them all, and I will tell you all now that there is no better medicine than the love of your friends and your family. As far as we are concerned, some of you have long ago transcended the realm of friend and truly are now family.

Thank you all so very much for your many kindnesses.

Mamamontezz