Throwing my Readers Some Bonz!

This post may be a bit unfocused, as I really don’t have any ideas about what to write about today. My weekend has been full of “normal” activities, if you can call counting small pieces of candy normal. I bought a large glass jar with an airtight lid and a five pound container of Bonz – small (two centimeter long) pieces of candy shaped like little bones. They come in five different colors: red, white, blue, yellow, and orange. For a Halloween festival prize, I’ve sorted out all the orange Bonz, counted them, and filled the jar. Now if some lucky child can correctly guess the number of Bonz in the jar, they win the jar!

A much easier question to answer is “What kind of candy does Steve eat?” At least until the end of the year, the answer is going to be “Bonz!” I’m tempted to buy another airtight jar and use the red, white, and blue Bonz to make a 4th of July “Guess the Number” prize. With a good seal they should stay fresh until then.

As you can see, the life of someone with a severe heart defect can be shockingly boring. And I like it that way! The trick is to learn all you can about your defect, and your body. The second one comes only from experience, and could change at any time. But once you figure yourself out, you’ll have a good idea when something is “just irritating”, “normal for me” or just plain wrong. And then you can deal with it.

I think the first time that I realized that something was wrong with me was in the early 1970’s. I was less than eight years old, maybe less than six. We owned a white station wagon – make and model, I have no idea – and we had some kind of a dinner at the church. It was pretty much over, all of our dishes were loaded, daddy was sitting in the drivers seat, and I was playing in the back. I planned to crawl over the seat, but I slipped and went face first into the metal bar that you pressed if you needed to lower the back seat for more room.

WHAM! I literally saw stars.

Daddy looked back at me. “You’ve busted your lip,” he said. “Come here so I can clean you up.”

He was wiping my face with a handkerchief when I glanced up into the rear view mirror. I couldn’t see the cut (it must not have been bad, because I don’t have a scar) but I could see my bloody mouth.

My blood actually looked blue. Holy cow! Even when you are Cyanotic, you blood isn’t blue… a darker shade of red, perhaps, but not completely blue. But that is what it looked like to me. Remember, I was “knee high to a grasshopper” (Interpretation for non-Southerners: I was really young!) but that is the way I remember it.

I bring this up because I dreamed about that car last night. I dreamed that my brother had wrecked his car and had been given an old white station wagon as a loaner until his car was fixed. He came by the house with it, angry that he had been assigned such an old set of wheels. My mother commented that we used to have a station wagon just like that, way back in the day, and my father said “I actually think that’s it!”All my medication causes me to have some… interesting dreams!

And finally, be sure to check the blogroll for a new resource. I’m calling it “Medical Publications” but it links to pubmed.gov., which is part of the National Institutes of Health (NIH). If you receive government funding for your medical research, it must be published on pubmed.gov and be accessable to anyone. So go to the homepage, type your search term into the search box, and you’ll be presented with a list of available works on the subject. They will be very technical and full of “med-speak”, but if nothing else, you can see where major research is being done and contact them if you need further assistance!

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4 Responses to “Throwing my Readers Some Bonz!”

  1. carolyn compton Says:

    Do you celebrate surgery dates? My boy’s surgery was 1 year ago exactly and it was the day the men and women in blue coats and nice cartoon surgery hats gave us our son back to us. He ate for the first time and hasn’t stopped since!
    carolyn

  2. Steve Says:

    Yes I do! 🙂

    My first was February 17, 1967; my third was May 30, 1988. The second was in March of 1977, but I am not sure of the day. I want to say March 17, but that is too easy — that’s St. Patrick’s Day.

    You son is not unusual; I have a hard time pushing away from the table, too!

    EDIT: I had to go dig up some things and look it up… February 28, 1977!

  3. carolyn compton Says:

    🙂

  4. carolyn compton Says:

    :)i’m in australia hence the early morning times BTW

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