Title?
“Why, I’ve no idea what that means.” You may be saying to yourself.
Hint: Consider the word portmanteau:
portmanteau – a new word formed by joining two others and combining their meanings.
Examples include: smog (smoke + fog) and brunch (breakfast + lunch).
…
As you ponder that let us first consider the weather. What would we do without weather when looking to ice break a conversation. A rather unusual spring up here so far. In a word: DRY. The fire I mentioned in the last post is still blazing away on the Kenai peninsula. In terms of size, it’s supposedly second only to the one burning in Arizona. The wind is once again carrying the smoke over Anchorage, and judging from the thin layer of “dust” on the car this morning, ash as well. Filtering sunshine, the smoke ‘n ash cast an unearthly gray-orange pallor over the backyard. We’d stepped out onto the deck this morning, Happy Wife (HW) and I, to enjoy our coffee. The wind isn’t all bad; it does serve to keep the mosquitoes away.
What else, what else… Oh, right. The bike tour is coming up and there’s a million things to do: Rent vans & trailers; secure lodging for 22 in three separate locales; complete online driver and first-aid/CPR courses; plan daily rides; scout daily rides for road condition; answer countless emails about Alaska; buy bike racks, coolers, drink dispensers, food & snacks, bike tools, spare tubes and tires, etc.; coordinate shuttle support; meet with sag crew & plan lunches; pay deposits, request reimbursement; update spreadsheet — et cetera et cetera…
And that’s only what’s been accomplished so far — there’s more to do before showtime!
…
So, the portmanteau. Have you guessed?
Tampon + ectomy = Tamponectomy.
Say What?!
Well, we arrived home the other day, came into the house and all was well. Until… until I heard the concerned voice of HW emanate from upstairs, “Uh-oh.” Come to find the trash basket in our bathroom had been “disturbed” and the contents strewn on the floor. However, certain previously disposed of contents related to feminine hygiene were missing.
Harry.
Were we surprised? Yes and No. Yes, because he very rarely disturbs anything in the house when we’re away, in fact he’s never seriously damaged anything. No, because of what HW said, “I should never have thrown those away and left them there. I should have known they’d be irresistible for Harry.”
And so evidently they were. At least five of them we’re missing, maybe six.
Induce vomiting? I thought not, might make the problem worse. A quick web search of the condition indicated I was right.
So off to the vet Harry and I went, he to get an x-ray, which quickly confirmed the presence of foreign matter in his stomach. If said matter expands as it hydrates it could cause blockage and lead to a bad outcome. Or he could pass it. Or he may not. We could put him on fluids to encourage passage. Of course that may cause a blockage in his small intestine. Laxatives? Might help if the foreign matter was all in his colon, otherwise not. Okay, how about endoscopic foreign body removal? Might work, except the foreign matter could lodge in his trachea as we pull it out, assuming we can grab it.
In other words, surgery was the best option. AGAIN.
Sure enough, once the veterinarian opened his stomach, there they were, three used tampons.
But there were five — at least!
“The others are likely on their way to the colon,” the vet said, “I squeezed what I could out of the small intestine toward the colon. It looks clean. He’ll likely pass the rest in a few days. He’s out of surgery and doing well. You can come pick him up before six o’clock.”
You squeezed the matter through his small intestine during surgery? Like making sausage?
“That about captures it,” she told me.
HW picked up Harry and brought him home. He was still groggy and unsteady on morphine. While she was at the vet’s office waiting for Harry she inquired at the counter where they were intending to build the new Nibbe Wing. The heft of the medical files on Harry and Lucy alone merits a separate file cabinet.
Once home Harry grumbled a few times but mostly he just slept. Next day we removed his IV and the rest of his bandages. By day’s end he was back out on the deck, laying lying down enjoying a spring day, while we remained vigilant for his next pooh. One turd later, nothing. One day later, this morning, more pooh, which HW said looked and felt (through the bag) like clay, but still no evidence of the other two you-know-whats.
The expectation feels like waiting for a package to arrive by mail, only different.
The expense? What can I say, it’s a helluva way to get miles on your Alaska airlines Visa, but they all count same.