Monday, February 3, 2020
Last night I watched the Super Bowl for the commercials, most of it anyway. I fell asleep for both the 49er’s scores in the first half so I may have missed some pretty impressive commercials, but I was underwhelmed by this year’s commercials. When, in my opinion, the most touching commercial was Mike Bloomberg’s political ad, the advertising kings missed the mark and chances are I will not bother to tune in next year. I have not watched the Super Bowl for the past few years because I do not love football anymore.

Last night I was feeling tired and asked my significant other, Donald, to put me in my bed before the game started, so I would not disturb him during the game. I decided to watch the commercials and asked Donald what channel was televising the game. I wore my glasses in bed in case some of the commercials required reading. I was prepared to be dazzled. The first commercial that stood out was the Secret ad, but not for good reasons. It was obvious from first glance the kicker was a girl, so the reveal when she took off her helmet was anticlimactic and made the ad feel like it was pandering toward women.

The next piece that caught my attention was the one featuring kids playing football and one runs away with the football being told “take it to the house” by people he meets along the way. I was watching the spot as it progressed featuring football player after football player, thinking somebody spent some serious money on this ad and when the young boy runs into the tunnel and is told to deliver the game ball by the woman, the “take it to the house” line made sense. I was thrilled when the ad turned into the real delivery of the game ball on the field by the boy in the commercial and several more children running from the tunnel. I should have stopped watching there, but I would have missed the Chiefs win and a few other cute commercials.

I watched the smart park commercial with mixed feelings. When the car was parked, my first thought was how are they going to get it out. The commercial answered that question by showing smart park working in reverse, but I could not get out of my head the feeling that smart park was inconsiderate to the cars parked on either side. How will those drivers access their cars when you are parked six inches from their door?

The TurboTax wiggly leg commercial was fun and so was the MC Hammer/Cheetos commercial, but they were not out of the ordinary. Many of the ads such as the Walmart out of this world pick up ad seemed to try to cram too much into them so they would come across more spectacular; however, they were too cluttered to be impressive. The older ad Walmart ran with the song Rocket Man in it was simpler and better. 

I felt Ellen was not necessary in the Alexa ad. The outrageous romp through history spoke for itself and they could have saved money and went with less expensive, unknown talent for the intro and outro. If you are going to spend the money for Ellen and Portia, make them the stars of the commercial like the car commercial featuring Cobie Smulders. The Jimmy Fallon workout ad was pretty funny too, and he was the star even with celebrity help.

I did enjoy the game (I cheer for Kansas City unless they are playing the Raiders). The last six minutes were very exciting, and I was able to forget about the brutality of the sport for a while. I will spend the next year thinking, “That was a Super Bowl ad.” every time I see Cobie Smulders picking up a stranded stranger or see the bite-size clips Walmart will make from its out of this world commercial.

My piece of advice to you is keep doing what you love. I love to watch creative commercials and the Super Bowl usually delivers. Am I ever going to drink the beer in Jimmy Fallon’s commercial? No, I do not like beer, but I will probably laugh every time I watch the ad and think good thoughts about Michelob.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Sunday, February 2, 2020
Cancer scenarios are apparently the topic of choice for all the shows I watch this week (not just the doctor shows). I caught up with the current season of Grace and Frankie on Netflix yesterday. The Ranch has finished its run, and I do not know how many more seasons for Grace and Frankie there will be. I have decided these will likely be the last rated M shows I will watch on Netflix; the profanity is too extreme for me to completely enjoy the episodes, despite the funny storylines. I will not get invested again.

The premise of Grace and Frankie is that two senior-citizen, law-partner husbands tell their wives they are gay and want divorces so they can marry each other. It stars Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Sam Waterston, and Martin Sheen. In one of this season’s episodes, the men go to the doctor. Sam Waterston’s character, Sol, is told he has prostrate cancer and is advised by his doctor to do nothing because of his age. Sol decides he does not want to risk the complications of surgery and does not want to tell anyone else the news.

Martin Sheen’s character, Robert, tries to convince Sol to have surgery and finally prevails. Sol tells Robert he does not want to tell anyone else until after the surgery. Robert goes to Frankie’s house to pick up a fondue pot and she pulls her ex-husband’s diagnosis out of Robert. Sol and Robert are hosting Sol’s sons that evening for a dinner party when Frankie comes over to “cleanse” the house to make Sol better. Eventually, the cat is let out of the bag and now Sol’s family members all know.

On the next episode everyone is treating Sol differently. His family is trying to change his diet and are constantly checking on him and asking how he is feeling. Sol tells Robert he is going to a cancer support group which Robert supports because he thinks Sol is “properly” dealing with his cancer. Robert offers to go, but Sol says it is for patients only. Robert later finds out Sol is playing games with friends at a diner instead of going to the group. Sol explains he was tired of being smothered with cancer concern and wanted time to not be focusing on cancer, which is why he did not want to tell anyone until after his surgery.

I am fortunate I do not have a smothering family. My family is concerned, but none of them are surfing the Internet for ovarian cancer diets and trying to drown me in information overload. My family knows I am an informed, independent woman who asks questions and, even though I do not want people sending me unsolicited article or video links, I do have an open mind to options presented to me by people who are qualified to offer advice. I am not going to send you a link about how to design a robot because you program robots. I do send my friend who sells honey articles about bees because I know she is interested.

Some people do need help when making life changes. It took me a while to build up to the amount of protein I need to take in to heal wounds and I did need the support of my family. I asked to not be served any food that did not contain protein for six months a few years ago when I was healing a wound that opened down to my bone. My significant other bought pasta that had protein in it to help vary my diet. My older daughter looked up protein levels for nuts, fruits, and vegetables so we got the best protein bang.

When a friend of mine found out her husband had diabetes, the whole family changed their eating habits and they were already avoiding processed food and dyes. Family and friends are needed when you start making changes in your life, but when you are someone’s support, find out how they want to be supported. Do they want you to check if they took their meds, or do they want you to walk around the mall with them?

My piece of advice to you is ask questions when offering support. I am trying hard to ask my older daughter how I can help when she has a bad day instead of simply jumping in with advice and it is not easy. I want to make her feel better right away, yet how can I effectively help if I do not know what she needs from me?

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Saturday, February 1, 2020
Thursday afternoon I received a call from my oncology office. I was concerned they were calling to tell me to stay away from people. I am already taking two magnesium pills every day because I drink so much milk; I cannot imagine they want me to take three (I will if they tell me to). It turned out neither option was the reason for the call. My hemoglobin has been dropping one-tenth of a point each week for the past few weeks. The office was calling to advise me to get a blood transfusion.

I asked the woman who called, Jordan, what my number was, and she told me 7.9. I just said no to blood. I feel fine so my level is not low enough for me to accept the risk of a blood transfusion. After my reaction to my last transfusion, I am sure I have even more antibodies and it will be even harder to match me. Yes, a blood transfusion may be a good idea, but not for me. I have developed blood antibodies twice for sure and possibly a third time (I will not know for sure until I get my next blood type-match test for a transfusion).

I may very likely need a blood transfusion by the time I finish cycle eight in June (I start cycle four on Friday). I think my number of blood transfusions are limited until I develop so many antibodies my body will be unable to accept blood. I do not want to die because I cannot process blood. When the flesh eating disease was trying to kill me, I was in the five to six range for almost a year, even with regular transfusions. I do not plan to let my number fall into the five range, but it will need to drop below seven before I agree.

I feel for Jordan. I was very polite when I said no; however, she is simply trying to do her job and she needs to report I was an uncooperative patient. I think uncooperative patient and patient refused are offensive terms to use to when someone chooses not to heed a medical professional’s advice. Every time I am admitted to the hospital, my Synthroid is scheduled for the morning and my night medications are scheduled for 6:00 p.m.

I have taken my Synthroid as part of my night meds for more than twenty years, yet each hospital stay I need to “refuse” the morning pill until the pharmacy changes the schedule to nighttime (which usually takes a couple of days). Apparently, most people take Synthroid in the morning because it may cause sleeplessness. I am not most people. I also need to “refuse” my 6:00 p.m. meds until they are rescheduled at 9:00 p.m. The pills are given to me at my preferred time and not sent back to the pharmacy; however, I feel I am being punished for insisting the hospital conform to my home schedule as much as possible.

The hospital also wants to give a few “preventative” meds such as blood thinners and stool softeners to everyone. The blood thinners are given as an attempt to cut down hospital heart attacks and I do not have any criteria that would indicate a heart attack risk, so unless my doctor specifically says I need a blood thinner (such as after surgery), I decline. I do not know why they try to give everybody stool softeners (perhaps working to pass bowel matter might give you a heart attack).

I will be explaining my rationale for declining a blood transfusion to Candice the P.A. when I see her next week and will listen to her thoughts. Candice the P.A. may present a rationale that will sway my thoughts; she may agree with me. Either way, I will be making my concerns heard.

My piece of advice to you is to take back control of your health. When you do not understand or feel a procedure may not be necessary, ask questions until you are comfortable with your decision. Do not let your doctor out of your room until you are satisfied. The five to ten minutes scheduled to talk to you may not be enough, so be a “difficult” patient and demand your medical rights. You doctor wants what is best for you too; give them the time to explain their rationale.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Friday, January 31, 2020
My older daughter, Megan, got her mortgage through the credit union I use for my business banking. I use that credit union because it is close to my house and the bus I ride out of my neighborhood has a stop across the street so I can get off there on my way home, usually. For almost six weeks there has been a thick sheet of ice on the sidewalk between the bus stop and the curb cut. If I got off at that stop I would be trapped until the next bus came to pick me up.

Last week I was at a bus stop where both bus routes that go near my credit union intersect. The bus I usually take apparently already had two people in wheelchairs on the bus because the driver told me he was full. I knew I would get home faster if I took the bus waiting across the street rather than wait half an hour for the next bus that goes closest to my house. The stop on that route is right in front of my credit union so I rolled in to deposit some money.

When I came out of the credit union, I decided to cross the street to determine if that sheet of ice was as bad as it seemed from the bus. It was worse. The ice was approximately four inches deep and 12-feet long by seven-feet wide covering the entire sidewalk and extending all the way to the street curb. If I managed to get on top of the ice, chances are I would have slid off the curb and toppled into the street to be hit by an automobile. Game over.

That stop is important because for some reason Megan likes paper paychecks. She says they feel more real and only gets direct deposit from the one job that will not issue paper checks. Megan’s direct deposits go into the account she uses for groceries, gas, insurance, and other non-home-related expenses. Megan puts her checks from her other two jobs into her account at my credit union. Actually, Megan puts her checks in an envelope with her bank account number on it at my house and I take the envelope to the credit union to deposit at the end of the month so the money is there for her mortgage payment on the first.

My helper volunteered to take the envelope for me after her shift yesterday, so I would not need to take the bus with the accessible credit union stop after my doctor’s appointment this afternoon and come straight home (I would be catching the bus from the same corner as last week). My helper started asking me what name the account was under and I told her the tellers never ask me that. I give the teller the envelope, ask them to deposit into checking, and tell them the account number is on the envelope.

My helper looked at me skeptically and left for the credit union. The plan was for her to bring me the receipt on Monday, but she realized she left her cleaning gloves at my house, so she came back. My helper told me that not only did they ask her for the name on the account; they asked if she was on the account. I told her that had never happened to me and she told me it was because I use a wheelchair.

While Megan was putting me in bed last night, I mentioned my helper’s experience at the credit union and how that was so different from mine. Megan looked at me and said, “That is because you have four-wheel privilege, Mom.” I can see that. People do treat me different because I am in a wheelchair. It may have happened, but I do not remember anyone ever telling me no when I ask complete strangers to open a door or hand me an item from a shelf I am unable to reach.

My piece of advice to you is take whatever privilege you can get. Would I rather be able bodied and do all my tasks on my own? Of course, but I do not have that choice. If my four-wheel privilege invokes feelings of kindness in others, I am all for it.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Thursday, January 30, 2020
The doctor shows are big on cancer this week. The other doctor show I watch is New Amsterdam. Cancer is a recurring topic on this show because the main character went through treatment for throat cancer. I like the hopeful, solution-centric mentality of the main character. It would be nice to have a patient-first health system in the United States, but I think the political divide is too great to ever let that happen.

I usually watch New Amsterdam online because I watch a show on another channel when it airs. Tuesday’s episode included an 18-year-old young man who had successfully treated his cancer a few years before only to have it come back untreatable. He is told he has four to six months to live and decides not to tell his parents. I completely understand the shock when you think your cancer is gone and you find out it is going to kill you instead. Been there, done that.

A psychiatrist speaks to the young man and tells him that sometimes people think if we do not talk about a topic, it will not happen. I get it; denial is my favorite friend. The power of the spoken word is the reason I have asked volunteers to read my journal entries for my YouTube channel instead of doing it myself. If I do not say the words I write out loud, they do not have power over me. My cancer will go away; I will not die sometime in the next few years. Those are the words I say out loud.

I understand why an 18-year-old would choose not to tell his family. They may be trying to keep their family happy as long as possible. That is what I am doing for my seven-year-old, Mika. Mika needs to have the happiest childhood I can give her because it will be gone way too soon. In this case, the young man said he wanted to experience life as much as possible while he still could and did not want to see his parent’s sad faces when he went out with other people instead of them.

The young man decides to visit a friend in another country and then maybe climb some mountains so his parents will not notice his declining health. When the psychiatrist asks him if he really wants his parents to find out he died on a mountain all alone, the young man responds that it will be awful for his parents no matter where he dies and by experiencing more of what life has to offer, at least it will not be awful for him.

I am lucky. I crammed so much living in by the time I turned 27, my paralysis did not make me skip a beat (who-hoo! I forgot how to spell paralysis again). I have enjoyed my life since I started using a wheelchair. I do not feel I have left any tasks undone other than raising Mika so I can happily focus on spending quality time with my family for my remaining days. I would probably have put myself before family if I had gotten a terminal diagnosis in my late teens or twenties.

The psychiatrist asks the young man if he wants to record a goodbye video for his parents and he agrees. Ah, the immediacy of youth. It has been almost four months since my terminal diagnosis and I still am having trouble talking to my family on video. I could not have recorded a goodbye video the day I got the news from Dr. Doom and Gloom. In the perfect world of television shows, the young man realizes how much he still wants to be with his parents for his last days while recording the video and decides to tell them. Whichever choice he made would have been right for him.

My piece of advice to you is to try not to judge people’s choices. Everyone has different life circumstances and personalities and the choice we think we would have made is not the “right” one for everyone. I do not want to take a trip abroad or skydive before I die, but a day trip to the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve with my family would be amazing.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Wednesday, January 29, 2020
Yesterday was supposed to be a clearing clutter day. I had two volunteers scheduled and both had to cancel. My early volunteer lives in a school district that had a two-hour delay and needed to be with her kids, and my later volunteer felt she was coming down with a cold and did not want to give me her germs. I understand circumstances do not always work out as we plan, but I was disappointed. I was looking forward to making enough progress decluttering that the improvement would be visible.

Today did not start any better. I had two decluttering volunteers scheduled for the same time and one let me know she was sick. So much for my super-productive week with four decluttering volunteers. My other volunteer for today, Lela Rae, did come and she comes with a truck. Lela Rae came over two weeks ago just to do a donation run for me. She filled her truck with bags and bags of items we had cleared out of my shed and cleared half of the donation bags from my patio. Today she started by loading up her truck again.

Even without the other three decluttering volunteers this week, the improvement is finally noticeable today. My volunteers that cleared out my shed a few weeks ago had left a few pieces of furniture in the shed for me to deal with on another day. There was a side table and standard bassinette that were not heavy, so Lela Rae loaded them on her truck and was able to fit all the donation bags from my patio. Lela Rae was also able to fit the items we sorted for donation today in her truck. I still have a few boxes on my patio I need to check to make sure are donation items, but my patio is mostly clear -- for now.

Honestly, Lela Rae and I did not move as many items out of my house as I had on previous decluttering days; however, today we moved out the right items to make a visible change. I have two storage buckets that were crushed from their time in my shed and I have designated them “donate” buckets and labeled them as such. When my seven-year-old, Mika, and I sort her items, she puts her unwanted items in the donate buckets to be taken care of later.

The fireplace nook in my lower level great room is the mess I see the most because it is in my line of sight when I work on my computer and my stuff gets placed there because it is out of the walking path. Lela Rae and I started on the fireplace and worked from there. We skipped a box of printer paper and a storage bucket of photos to leave for when I have cleared out more of my donation items.

Lela Rae and I sorted a bucket of toys that had been started as a donation bucket a year ago, but had random stuff tossed in with them during the year. Kids toys take so long to sort! I pulled out a few toys I knew had been placed on top by mistake and most of the items were either donated or put in the trash. I love seeing the toys leave my house. I have dealt with kid’s toys for more than thirty years and still have many more years to go with Mika.

I still have a large box and a storage bucket of the random papers collected from my older daughter’s bedroom when I packed up her belongings to move. I told her I would sort the papers because she does not have the time currently. I also know if I do the sorting the receipts from 2013 will end up in the trash. Lela Rae and I cleared out about two thirds of the large box and filled up a trash bag. We moved the rest of the papers into a smaller box and simply getting the donation buckets emptied, downsizing the box, and removing the bucket of toys made a visual impact.

My piece of advice to you is to accept that sometimes people let you down. Those three volunteers did not intentionally disappoint me. Real life can get in the way of the best intentions. Do not get derailed when life disappoints you.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Tuesday, January 28, 2020
I like to watch a few medical dramas. There does not seem to be any rhyme or reason as to which ones I even watch a single episode of let alone watch regularly. I have never watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy and did not even know there was a Dr. Grey on the show until I saw a commercial recently in which someone called a woman Dr. Grey. I never watched Saint Elsewhere, but I have seen one episode of Chicago Med. I usually watch crime shows like NCIS, FBI, and How to Get Away with Murder.
 
Oddly enough, I have two doctor shows I have been watching the past couple of years. One of those shows is The Good Doctor. The main character is a surgeon with autism who finds gently breaking news to people difficult. I like him. I like doctors who do not try to spare my feelings. Some people think I do not like my oncologist because I call him Dr. Doom and Gloom, but that is not true. I really like Dr. Doom and Gloom. He tells me exactly what I need to hear.
 
Last April when Dr. Doom and Gloom kept me in the hospital for an extra week because some infection number had dropped so low they even had to take special precautions while preparing my meals, he told me if he sent me home in that condition I might die. I needed to hear those words. I may have a wrecked body and be dying of cancer, but I am invincible -- in my own mind. I had been in the hospital two weeks already and felt fine so I did not understand why extreme risk of infection should stop me from going home. I decided I could stay in the hospital rather than go home and possibly die.
 
On last night’s episode of The Good Doctor, a man has been reacting badly to his chemotherapy treatments and decides to discontinue them and better enjoy his final days. He is told he has about six months to live without treatment. The man decides to skydive, buy a Lamborghini, and move to Costa Rica for his final days. His wife was upset that he was spending all their money and he said the most selfish words I have heard. He said he could spend all his retirement money because he did not need it. His wife still needs that money; she is not dying.
 
I do not want to spend any money on me because I do not need whatever I would buy (except more space heaters), and that little bit of money will help those I leave behind. If my health and circumstances work out, I plan to take a family trip to Florida in July, so I have been saving for that possibility and think it is a good use of money. The man on The Good Doctor wanted his wife to quit her job and move to Costa Rica until he died without any money left. He chose his “this is the true me” life instead of his wife.
 
A friend of my significant other, Donald, died from cancer a couple of years ago. He and his wife had about a year warning and they enjoyed that time together. They traveled a lot before he was diagnosed, and they took a few more trips to special places while he was still able. He hosted Wednesday nights with his old buddies, so they could have quality time before he passed. I know Donald treasures those memories and I am so glad he went. The friend made sure his friends had items of his they would want. Donald received some scale models and tools, someone else may have received woodworking tools.
 
The “true” me is like Donald’s friend. I am working to make my passing easier on my family, not leave a mess for them to deal with. I am clearing my physical mess, getting my paperwork in order and writing and recording video messages to comfort them emotionally after I pass.
 
My piece of advice to you is discover the “true” you. Would you enjoy your final days with your friends and family, or would you go out in a blaze of glory alone?
 
Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Monday, January 27, 2020
This morning, I woke up literally to the news of Kobe Bryant and his daughter’s death. I started sleeping with the television on while I was in the hospital for rehabilitation after my automobile accident and for treatment of the flesh eating disease. At night I could hear footsteps of people walking down the hall, IV machines beeping in other rooms, and just about every other annoying noise at night. I started keeping the television on at night to drown out the occasional noise that kept waking me up with a steady noise that allowed me to stay asleep.

I fall asleep with one channel on and then usually wake up to infomercials, turn the channel to news, and go back to sleep. News is usually fairly monotone which makes it easy for me to stay asleep. Once in a while the words will affect my dreams or I will hear them because I have moved into a lighter sleep cycle. This morning at approximately 2:30 a.m. my brain heard words that did not make sense while in that lighter sleep cycle and it was just enough to wake me up and think, “Did I just hear what I think I heard?”

Once I woke up enough to pay attention, I learned that, sure enough, I did hear that Kobe Bryant and his daughter were killed in a helicopter crash. The news made me surprisingly sad. The reason the sadness was surprising is that I am not a Kobe Bryant fan. I own several Prince albums and used to jog to one of his albums on my Walkman for an entire track season in high school. I thought Prince’s death was a shame, but it did not sadden me. I had never met Prince before he died. I have felt the same detachment when other celebrities I have watched, listened to, or read have passed. I do not know them enough to be sad.

I do not watch professional basketball, so I have never seen Kobe Bryant play. I am certain I probably could not pick him out of a group of other basketball players. My older daughter told me this morning she had heard the news yesterday, and she mentioned when you make a great shot playing recreational basketball, people yell “Kobe”. I have never heard anyone yell “Kobe” when my seven-year-old and I go to parks

In October, I watched an interview with Kobe Bryant on CBS. They discussed his books, my older daughter had bought one to read with my younger daughter, his creative company and his most-important role, fatherhood. I could see the strong family bond in his words and photos and that must have created a subconscious connection. I feel true sadness for the loss of his creative accomplishments that were yet to come. I feel sadness for the loss of a young girl who never got a chance to finish reaching for her dreams.

Mostly, I feel sadness for the wife/mother and children/siblings left behind without warning. I am sure Kobe Bryant’s family will be taken care of financially and will get counseling to help them cope with their devastation, but I doubt it even occurred to Kobe Bryant to record “in case I die” videos. It did not occur to me to record videos before I got my terminal diagnosis. I did not write every day so my family could get a glimpse into my head during my last days until I accepted my mortality. I think my sadness comes from the knowledge I will leave my family behind also.

My piece of advice to you is to accept your mortality. Make a list of friends and family that may be comforted by a farewell message from you. I am sure it will be easier to record farewell messages when you do not expect to actually die soon than when you receive a death sentence. Remember to update your videos every few years, keep them in a safe place, and let someone know they exist and where they are located.

P.S. (written 1-28-2020) I did see a clip during the credits of The Bachelor last night with two people shooting baskets and someone did yell “Kobe” when a nice shot was made, so it must really be a thing.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Sunday, January 26, 2020
Today my seven-year-old, Mika, and I emptied the baby cage. Yes, it was really a cage for my baby. I call it the baby cage because I remembered an old Doris Day movie in which a particularly rambunctious young child was occasionally placed in a wooden cage with a baby crib mattress in it. The movie was Don’t Eat the Daisies and apparently that scene stuck with me. My older daughter was already six months old when I had my automobile accident, and I spent so much time in the rehabilitation hospital and other hospitals that I never had any adaptive baby equipment made other than diapers.

When I had Mika, a friend that I worked with had a friend that was a cabinet maker who owed him a favor. The cabinet maker made a beautiful bassinette that had a side that folded down so I could place it on a table and slide Mika in and out for diaper changes and feeding time. Mika was born premature and spent a month in the NICU. My friend brought me the bassinette a few days before her release so we could test it out. The bassinette worked exactly as planned and I had a place to keep Mika when we were alone together until she was able to sit up.

I realized I would need an area to contain Mika once the bassinette was no longer safe and before I could let her roam on the floor. I decided I needed a baby cage. I visited a custom woodworking company in Colorado Springs with my idea for a baby cage that was secured to a table for wheelchair access. I was told they had a four-week backlog and would let me know when they were ready to start. Five weeks later I received a call.

The builder told me their legal department had reviewed the build and because the design was basically a modified baby crib affixed to a table, it would need to be tested for safety by the state at a cost of at least $25,000. I explained the baby cage would only be used under direct supervision, Mika would not be placed in it over night, but the company would not build the baby cage for me even if I signed a liability waiver.

I then started the great baby cage builder hunt. I called at least ten custom wood builders and was told each time they could not build a baby cage for me because that was not the type of woodworking they did or for liability issues. I finally got a yes, scheduled an appointment, and the next day Mika and I trekked across town to the builder’s store. The person who I met with was the owner and was not the person with whom I spoke to the day before. When I showed the owner my drawings, he told me they would not be able to build the baby cage due to liability issues.

I explained that I was certain we could jerry-rig some contraption to contain Mika, but I wanted a builder to be sure it would keep her safe. The owner decided my concern for her safety would make me a responsible user and he agreed to make the baby cage for a signed waiver of liability and $800. Eight hundred dollars was more than I had planned on paying, but I gave him a $400 check as a deposit and decided Mika’s safety was worth the cost. I was making approximately $1,000 per month at my part-time job.

The next morning the owner called me, and my heart sunk. I was sure he had changed his mind and asked him if he had. The owner told me he had talked to his staff and called a few suppliers. The suppliers were donating building materials and his staff was donating their building time. He was not only committed to building it, he was returning my check and gifting me Mika’s baby cage. The baby cage came to my house a few days after Christmas that year.

My piece of advice to you is keep pushing for what you need. We only used the baby cage regularly for about a year; four months continually before I could pick Mika up from the floor, and eight months more for day-time naps. Mika and I sorted all the stuffed animals that have been calling it home for the past several years today into donation and keep piles and within the next few months, the baby cage will be disassembled, stored, and I will have a long table in my lower level great room perfect for playing games.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Saturday, January 25, 2020
I love Steroid Saturdays. I know I say it all the time, but it is so true. I slip into Super Quad mode and almost always have an amazing day after my Friday chemotherapy treatments. Yesterday my significant other, Donald, received his second W-2 form so I was able to start the first of the four tax returns I usually do each year for our family. Next week, when the free file fillable form is available, I will double-check my math, fill out the unnecessarily complicated free file fillable form, and his return will be on its way.

My son and older daughter are still waiting for all their forms, so I probably will not be able start their tax forms until February. I get to learn a new form for my daughter’s return. She had roommates for part of last year and I get to figure out how claiming rental income and associated deductions work. I am looking forward to the adventure! I was hoping I could do her rental income and deductions on a Schedule C, no such luck. My own taxes are going to require a lot of work. I was too sick to care about keeping my income and expense spreadsheet current, so now I need to start from nearly scratch with my bank statements and receipts. It is my own darn fault I need to do the extra work now. This year I am back on track again.

Thursday, Donald suggested we go to a Brazilian restaurant our family likes today. They have a food bar and keep bringing you grilled meats and vegetables until you wave the red flag. Steroid Saturday is the only day I have enough of an appetite to even remotely justify the steep price. Donald’s birthday was yesterday, so he invited his mom and our son. Our older daughter works on Saturdays at lunch, so she did not come. The five of us had a great lunch and I ate a lot. I may be another five pounds heavier at my next weigh-in. I might need to start cutting calories. I commandeered the lunch and paid for it as Donald’s birthday lunch, even though he invited everyone there.

I really enjoyed the lunch, but I think I am mostly over going out for lunch. When I got the bill, the three pre-calculated tip amounts were 18, 20, and 22 percent, not 15, 18, and 20. To add insult to injury, the restaurant calculates those amounts from the after-tax total instead of the pre-tax amount. I am not paying someone 25 dollars to bring me five drinks and clear away my dishes ($24.80 was the 18 percent amount). The restaurant has a food bar from which we get our own food and they do have servers that bring the grilled items to your table to cut (I am guessing the tips are pooled to cover them), but we did not get any type of service that warranted 25 dollars.

I have been to buffet-style restaurants in the past by myself. If I am alone, I need help getting my food and my server gets a larger tip that is not based on ticket amount -- as they should. I feel for tip-pay scale workers, I know tips are important because our government allows servers to be paid less. Colorado has a $8.98 per hour tip minimum wage (other states are as low as $2.13) and I am requested to pay them another $25 on top of that. I am done feeling sorry for food servers in Colorado. My older daughter only makes 14 or 15 dollars an hour as a manager at one of her jobs. She gets tips at her massage therapist job, but she is one on one with her clients for an hour or more. I would happily tip a massage therapist $25 for an hour if they did a great job because their time was focused solely on me.

I did really have an awesome day, and even though I wrote two whole paragraphs about my three-minute annoyance regarding the pre-calculated tips, the incident did not lessen my joy one bit. I still tipped more than $20 and, yes, the extra three or four dollars does make a difference when combined with eliminating delivery fees and picking up pizza or Chinese food on lazy nights during the course of a year.

My piece of advice to you is pay attention to the add-ons when you pay out. I am okay with being a cheapskate. It is not my job to keep you at the standard of living you prefer.

Until next time,
Susanne

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