If Cheney Can, So Can I

Oooo, former VP Cheney made big headlines - he got a heart transplant! Good for him! It means that age is no limitation. He is 72. Can you imagine getting a heart transplant??? It boggles the brain. I think of the heart as pretty darned close to being my soul. How can you transplant a soul???

Anyway - I think I’m an almost expert on this subject.

I have officially been placed on the “list” for a kidney transplant. I have gone through a myriad of tests to prove I am ultra healthy, other than my kidneys. All transplant wannabees have to be healthy in every aspect - particularly be cancer-free. I am 62 (63 at the end of April).

I am still viable (what a relief!).

My donor can be even older which can increase my odds of getting a transplant, although it won’t be as good as a younger donor.

One thing: I am on “hold” until January because my COBRA extension runs out this summer and I can’t get Part D (Medicare) until the sign up in December. Which means, I need Part D to pay for the anti-rejection drugs that run about $3,000 a month. So - to answer some of your questions - money helps, but only in maintaining your new organ.

I am happy to be on the waiting list, even on hold. It averages three years. So, I figure I’ll be 65 or 66. And I have to live to be 90 years old because that is how I figured out my 401(k). At any rate - a transplanted organ (or at least in my case, a kidney) lasts between 10 and 20 years. (There are cases of much, much longer - and I am always amazed to meet people who have had more than one transplant.) There are about 80,000 people in the US waiting for a new kidney. There will be about 25,000 who get their wish.

By the way. The transplant center would like a list of my living donors. Like, I'm going to walk up to you - my friend - and say something like, "Hey, I love ya, man. Can I have your kidney?" After all - you have two and I only need one. So - hey, man. I love 'ya. Can I have your kidney?????



Cat's Meow

I have been kind of Jealous of my friend, Cindy’s, cat stories. First there was Milo and all his cute little kitty ways. Then there was the appropriately named Thor. And pictures.

I wanted them to be my kitties. I miss the purring, the cuddling, the antics, and all the funny ways of a cat.

Then I thought I would focus my thoughts on imagining a cat coming to me, like a kitty magnet. {Mentally sitting in a lotus position, quietly humming – maybe even purring – and viola, the Kitty God would smile upon me and a potty-trained kitty would knock on my door.}

I have tried this mental exercise for two, three years. How old is Milo, anyway?

So, I came home from doing laundry Sunday afternoon and hear this meowing. I meow back.



And then appears before my wondering eyes, a little fluffy black kitty. And she LOVES me! Right off the bat. Love at first sight.

I brought her in and she made herself comfortable on the couch. Then on a chair. Then on Mechanic Man – and like Goldilocks, she found the most comfortable place. Snuggled right up to Mechanic Man’s neck, purring quietly, as if she has always been there.

Her name is Gracie (named by Mechanic Man, who adamantly stated that we had no room for a cat).

I must get a digital camera and post competitive shots of MY kitty.


Single Moms, Hear Them Roar

Nothing has incurred my wrath as much as the latest, absolutely ridiculous, bill being proposed in Wisconsin that would make it "almost" illegal to be a single mother. Slapping my face ala Home Alone's Macaulay Culkin.

I was browsing Yahoo tonight and this is what I found! Wisconsin Bill Claims Single Moms Cause Child Abuse

Ask me how irritated I am with that headline. . . . No, don't ask.

I am a single mother, having raised my sons since they were 2 and 3 years old. They are 38 and 39 now. Mature, happy, content, and unscathed by the absence of their father, who paid them no mind until they were adults. The boys have grown into healthy young men and their father missed out on a LOT. His loss, I'm sorry to say.

However, I have no regrets in any of the hundreds of days I had with two beautiful little boys, through grade school, through middle school (probably the war zone of parenting, whether it's one parent or two, or a whole village), high school, college, military, and marriage. I did it alone and I had my moments of angst - but never, ever did I feel we were less a family because their father wasn't in the picture, nor were either boy abused by having one parent.

Republican Senator Glenn Grothman should be ashamed of himself. Not only that - but he's never been married and doesn't have any children. How can he be so amazingly dense???

Maybe Mr. Grothman should spend some time with a single mother. He wouldn't be able to keep up with our very busy calendar - driving kids to school, driving kids to sports events, driving kids to doctor and dentist appointments, driving kids to karate class, taking crash courses in some higher form of math just to help with homework, tending little injuries, soothing fears, reading favorite stories, playing Yahtzee and giggling until our sides hurt, going for drives, going on picnics, riding our bikes together. I could go on and on. In the end, though, the boys turned out quite nicely for me abusing them with my lack of a husband. Thank you very much.

And what about single Dads???? I know several. You mean to say that children of single Dads are safe from the "abuse" factor because their Dads are macho males vs. children of single Moms who are weak submissive females? I could go on. . . The whole idea is just silly


Work! Work! Work!

I am employed!

After two years, and four months (but who is counting besides me), I am employed! And through a blog friend, no less. So, blogging at the speed of sound or light is not just a frivolous activity that screams Get A Life!

I have been floundering around here for way too long. I tried to call it retirement. But retirement isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I'd volunteer to take up my idle time, but I couldn't afford the gas in my car. Now I will have a little income, but not too much, to offset the low income I get from disability.

Plus, somehow being employed makes me feel like I'm worth something. I don't know what. But I'm better than being a lump sitting on the couch.


And, now I will have a little mad money for my two grandchildren, due in August. I can hardly stand myself. O the things I will buy. Toys. Clothes. Pampers. Formula. Toys. Digital camera. Toys.

Ok, you get the idea.