ChgoRed, Girl Editor

The Return of Frank XYZ

If you've been here a while, you might remember this posting, the one where I may have stumbled on a hidden family scandal (and the follow-up). Since then, life has gotten in the way. There was a wedding, some cardy business, the finding of a whole new family branch, and various other time-consuming activities.

I had a relapse of genealogy fever last fall, and (after much hesitation) finally bought a one-year subscription to Ancestry.com. I'd had my doubts, since most of the records you can find there are public--what you’re really paying for is the engine that combs many, many linked databases.

I can now attest: This is so much cooler than it I expected. If you've ever researched anything using books and microfilm, this is like crack.  I've spent so much time there that my husband doesn't even call it by its name anymore—it's just "That Web Site..." As in, “Are you on That Web Site again?”

I’m not the most directed researcher. Mostly, I’ll pick a name from the family tree and just start digging...and I have found a lot. So where better to start digging up Frank XYZ? Maybe I’d sort this whole mess out. I mean, XYZ is such a rare name. If I could find anything, it would be my guy, right?

The mess is not yet sorted. In fact, it’s…well, it IS a mess. And it’s getting more complicated. So far, I’ve found 10 different documents referencing various Frank XYZs. Ten!

Between them they have three variations on the last name and five different professions. Making it more fun, they were all born within the same 10-year span.  I’ve actually had to create a spreadsheet and give them nicknames, just to tell them apart. I can see that some of the documents are for the same people.  However, there were definitely multiple Franks; it's not like all 10 documents refer to one well-documented guy.  Two of the references are death certificates: Hotel Scandal Frank, who died in 1914, and Ottawa Frank, who died in Ottawa, IL in 1918.

In other words, there were at least two guys with the same rare (OK, maybe not so rare) name, living in the same state within four years of each other.

Thanks a lot, Franks.

(My chart of many Franks: Franks.htm.  I haven't included all the information; just enough to give an idea.  The shadings indicate people who are probably the same person.)

It's Nelson Algren's Birthday

By nights when the yellow salamanders of the EL bend all one way and the cold rain runs with the red-lit rain.
By the way the city's million wires are burdened only by lightest snow;
When chairs are stacked and glasses are turned and arc-lamps all are dimmed.
By days when the wind bangs alley gates ajar and the sun goes by on the wind.
By nights when the moon is an only child above the measured thunder of the cars, you may know Chicago's heart at last."
Nelson Algren, "Chicago: City on the Make"

*****

There is a certain corporate chain bookstore at the corner of State and Washington in Chicago. I was in there last summer to find "The Man With the Golden Arm," by Nelson Algren. It's a big store—big enough to have a good selection of Chicago writers if it wanted to—and it had no Algren at all. In fact, I had to spell "Algren" for the clerk so he could check the computer and verify that they didn’t have any.

This wasn't just maddening because I wanted the book. What made it worse was the history.  That same neighborhood wasn’t always clean enough and nice enough to attract big corporate stores. In fact, for years that corner was part of a strip of seedy theatres, pawnshops and bars. It was exactly the kind of place Algren felt most at home and a corner that the man himself quite probably walked only 30 years before. Yet by 2007, one of the biggest bookstores in Chicago wasn't carrying one of Chicago's most important writers. Hell, they didn't even know how to spell his name.

It was just too much. Now I HAD to buy the book.

I'm so glad I did, because I loved it. I read a lot of books last year, but this was by far the best. "Peyton Place" was a fun read but "Golden Arm" stayed with me like an old dream. It was just so much more than I expected.

Here, let me show you. This paragraph—almost entirely slang—is about guy trying to win a dice game. And yet, it sings.

"He had the touch, and a golden arm. "Hold me up, Arm," he would plead, trying for a fifth pass with the first four still riding, kiss his rosary once for help with the faders sweating it out and zing!--there it was, Little Joe or Phoebe, Big Dick or Eighter from Decatur, double trey the hard way and dice be nice--when you got a hunch bet a bunch--bet a dollar and then holler--make me five to keep me alive--it don't mean a thing if it don't cross that string--tell 'em where you got it and how easy it was."

Happy Birthday, Mr. A.

The Battle Resumes

It was during the morning check-in-with-mom phone call.  Well, it was after the call, actually.

She sounds really good, all things considered.  Doing better, morphine doing the job as needed, rehab transfer probably on Tuesday.  She was extra-happy because she dicsovered she can order her own meals from the kitchen, just by calling.  She kept saying "Today I got a Continental breakfast," as though something had finally gone her way in this lousy hotel.

Then I got off the phone and actually thought about what she'd said.

1) She's supposed to be on a diabetic diet.  Has her doctor approved this "ordering my own" plan?  Does he even know about it?

2) Her "Continental breakfast" was a blueberry muffin and fruit.  Carbs + carbs.

This afternoon, her blood sugar was 200. 

So now I wonder: Do I call a nurse and rat her out?  And if the nurses/doctors already know, are they OK with this?  Or do I just chalk it up to the learning process and let it go? 

Mostly, I'm disappointed because this is exactly how she used to eat before this crisis...and that might mean that even with the loss of her lower leg, she hasn't learned a thing.

(Postscript.  I went the most direct route: I called her nurse, who is now going to talk to the kitchen.  I have no idea if they'll tell my mom I called or why.  Even if they do, I can take it.  I think.)

Update (now with further update)

Very good: According to the surgeon, my mom came through her surgery just fine.  She is currently coming out of anesthesia.

Less good: This morning, she woke up with very little ability to move one of her arms, and the arm was tingling.  They suspected a mini-stroke—possibly related to bumping her head when she fell—but the CAT scan was inconclusive.  One more thing they're keeping an eye on.

But still: Surgery, done.  On to the next phase.  Thanks a million for everyone's support—it has been an absolute balm to the spirit.

*************

Weds. AM: She sounds really good, the arm is fine, and the CAT scan was clear. 

Long Road Ahead

Well, they’re in agreement now. So that’s something.

Below the knee, probably tomorrow, as my mother refuses to have the operation on Easter. After that, a few days in the hospital and then several weeks in a rehab hospital. After that, assisted living somewhere.

Given everything they’ve told us in the last few days, and her condition now, I can’t help but agree. The infection is being contained by the antibiotics, but it’s not going away. Any healing has been minimal. There are new concerns about the infection affecting her hemoglobin levels, etc., etc. In a situation where all the choices suck, this is the best option.

She’s not happy about it—she’s naturally quite scared—but she’s also resigned to this. Mostly, she’s focused on how she’ll get around. I don’t mind that—she needs to focus on what she can, the physical part.

Unfortunately, all this medical care does not come for free. At the risk of embarrassing my mother, this is the reality: She has no medical insurance, almost no money in the bank, and no assets to liquidate beyond furniture. She has a will and some life insurance, but no long-term care insurance. In essence, there is nothing there and—despite our repeatedly talking to her about it—nothing was put in place for a situation like this.

It's hard not to get upset when I think about how nearly all of this was preventable.  There were so many things she could have done in advance, but didn't, because she felt fine.  As a result, we are now scrambling to sort out the thicket of thorns that is Medicaid/Medicare, while keeping an eye on her medical care, and trying to plan for her future.

I have not stopped feeling tired and worn out all weekend. I can’t imagine how N. must be feeling right now.

And in case you’re curious, my mother is only 61. How’s your insurance plan looking?

And they wonder why people don't trust doctors

So, as I mentioned, Thursday afternoon my mother got some very bad news.  The surgeon on her case examined her foot, told her the MRI showed the infection was in the bone and spreading, and that he thought amputation was the only choice.

To say it was a bad and upsetting night in my family is putting it lightly. 

My sister N. is down there now and today, finally, FINALLY got the main doctor (not the surgeon) to talk to her on the phone.  It only took 3 days and about 6 or 8 phone calls.

And whaddya know?  Main Doctor doesn't think it's spreading.  He can say this because, as he revealed, the MRI has not yet been examined by an MRI specialist like it's supposed to be tomorrow, so the doctors are currently split on what should happen. 

Why Surgeon would say this to my mom, knowing not all the information was in and that his colleagues weren't in agreement?  Knowing that there was a chance she might not lose the leg?  Yeah, no one really has an answer for that.

*********

In other news, N. is there and in charge.  She brought her Lawyer Voice, too, and you do not want to mess with that.  I talked to my mom several times today and there was a noticeable improvement in her voice and responsiveness after N. got there.  She was less the weak voice on the phone and more my mom.  Boundless relief for all of us. 

Thanks to all for the lovely messages of support and encouragement.  I have told her about them, and she was deeply touched to hear about so many people pulling for her.

So now we wait.  But tonight is much easier than last night.

The infection has spread to the bone and is moving up her leg.  They're recommending amputation below the knee, possibly as soon as tomorrow.

I'm trying in vain to remember anything I bitched about last week.  It must have been feather-light by comparison.

My Week So Far

Monday
Morning: My husband hears a mouse die—angrily—in the wall between our kitchen and bedroom.
Afternoon: Take husband to get his neglected ingrown toenail fixed. Doctor takes a look, determines that it's actually getting better and sends us home without fixing a thing. Cost: $25 in cab fare, half a day off work.

Tuesday Night
Call from my mother. She fell on an injured ankle, couldn't get up for several hours. A neighbor heard her and called paramedics. She was about to leave for the hospital. I call both sisters and let them know what's going on.

Five minutes after the last phone call, my dad calls about my great-aunt Dorothy. She may not make it to the end of the week.

Wednesday
Discover my mother was admitted to the hospital. They're keeping her not for the ankle, but so they can treat the—surprise!—infected diabetic ulcer on her foot. Also, her blood sugar was 543. Is this high?  Well, most blood sugar charts top out at 130, so yeah, it's high.  Dangerously so.

Spend much of the morning on phone calls to Charleston, Charlotte and Sonoma. Younger sister reaffirms her champion status by the way she handles my mom, the nurses, and the patient advocate, AND work.  Without benefit of so much as a Xanax.

That night, the dishwasher gets clogged. One thing I actually manage to fix.

Thursday
Borders announces that it's not only suspending its dividends and scrambling for cash; it's also looking to sell part or all of the company.

Tomorrow
We're getting our taxes done! Wish us luck!

Comfort Food

This is not fancy, but as comfort food it's hard to beat. It's perfect for those cold, rainy nights when you get the news that your mother is going to the hospital, immediately followed by a call about how your last great-aunt is probably going to pass away this week.

Like last night.  Thank God this week has some cake at the end of it.

The original is on the Bisquick box; this is my variation.

ChgoRed’s Cheeseburger Pie

1 Lb. Ground Beef (or 1.5 lbs, you know, depending)
1 Can Tomatoes and Green Chilies, drained
1 Chopped Onion (optional)
1 Cup Milk
3/4 c. Bisquick Baking Mix
1 Egg
2 c. Shredded Cheese (The original says 1 cup, but we’re going for gooey here)
Salt, garlic and pepper to taste

Heat oven to 400 degrees.

Brown meat and tomatoes (and onion if you want it).  Season with salt, garlic and pepper to taste. While that’s cooking, in a separate bowl mix the milk, baking mix and egg until smooth.

Drain meat, then spread in pie plate or Pyrex dish (our 9” square Pyrex dish works great). Cover meat with shredded cheese.  (Yes, all of it.) Pour Bisquick batter over the cheese. It will look gross and weird, and like a failure. But it’s not.

Bake 20-25 minutes, until the top has the look of browned cheese goodness.  Good hot; also good as leftovers.

iPod Playlist: Spring

Not really spring-themed songs, but spring-feeling.  Airy, and just a little romantic.  You could take these to the park with you.

"...the autumn wind and the winter wind, they have come and gone..."

We can hope.

*****

Cae Cae - Xavier Cugat and his Orchestra

Cuanto le Gusta - Carmen Miranda

A Dying Cub Fan's Last Request - Steve Goodman (Playing this is an annual tradition at our house)

Honeysuckle Rose - Django Reinhart

Hoodoo Voodoo - Billy Bragg & Wilco

It Don't Mean a Thing - Lionel Hampton

Life is Beautiful - Keb' Mo'

Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard - Paul Simon

Paris Montage - Georges Delerue (Marimba/piano jazz!)

Suite from "Pleasantville" - Randy Newman

Summer Wind - Lyle Lovett

Take Me Out to the Ballgame - Steve Goodman (With Jethro Burns on mandolin)

Truck Song - Lyle Lovett (About which I've written before)

Walter Winchell Rhumba - Xavier Cugat and his Orchestra

Yo Te Amo Mucho - Xavier Cugat and his Orchestra