A Timeline of the Events of the Beginning of May, 2009

• April 29th- A last-minute dash to the airport with three cats and waaay too much luggage, but all of us made it to Alaska okay, if uncomfortably. (sidenote- Yin Yin reacted to the Xanax preflight test like a belligerent little drunk, staggering around and hissing at the other cats, it did NOT calm her down at all. And, not that I recommend drugging your animals for amusement purposes, but it was VERY funny to watch.)
• April 30th-May 3rd- Unseasonably gorgeous weather in Anchorage at a pet-friendly hotel, we celebrate a friend's birthday at a questionable club, shop for camping supplies and other summer essentials, and hang out with NSA's son. Hectic and more expensive than I would have wished, but a reasonably good time.
• May 4th- A friend drives us down to Homer in a mini-van packed to the roof, we find a hotel room, smuggle the cats in. NSA's asthma is bothering him, probably due to the very fine ash from Mt. Redoubt and the very dry spring that hasn't kept it down. And the stress of moving, travel, etc.
• May 5th- Friend and I pick up a few missed items while NSA relaxes at the hotel room. After a couple of frantic texts, we return to the room to find NSA drenched in sweat, his breathing intensely labored, and having already called 911, who take an excruciatingly long time to arrive. Ride in the ambulance, which pulls over on the way to the hospital to let the paramedics work on NSA, who is semi-lucid but completely frantic.
• May 6th- A horrible, horrible night during which NSA has to be put into an induced coma and intubated because he's combative and not responding well to the drugs. I have the unenviable experience of seeing my forty-five year old husband on a ventilator in the ICU.
• May 7th- It rains, washing away some of the volcanic ash.
• May 8th- I learn a new word, "extubated," the opposite of having a tube stuck down your throat. NSA is loopy and out of it from all of the drugs he's on, but in a relatively good mood since he has a constant supply of IV painkillers. We watch Casanova and I can't help but think of Heath Ledger, while NSA finds it particularly enjoyable in his altered state because of the bright colors and broad humor. He alternately calls me by his ex-wife's or sister's names. He's smiley and fun, and charms the nurses.
• May 9th- 13th- We get an inexpensive hotel room in town that doesn't care that we have cats to give NSA time to build up his strength.
• May 14th- After chinese food and making love, NSA has an evil, evil pain in his groin. When he wakes me up writhing around, I insist we call the paramedics. He's resistant, but eventually gives in. And so back to the hospital we go. In the ER, they're surprised to see him again, but won't give him anything for the pain until he starts vomiting blood.
• May 15th- After determining that the stone in his right kidney moved, NSA is released from the hospital again, worried about the expense of everything and how much insurance will cover. I'm understandably upset and feeling overwhelmed.
• May 16th- NSA passes an 8mm kidney stone, the size of a small pea. It's strangely impressive. We move the three cats and the little bit of stuff we brought with us into the cabin, which is dusty, and either cozy or cramped depending on our moods. The cats adapt remarkably quickly to their new environment, mostly due to the windows and abundant wildilfe to watch.

A Home of Our Own

I've said before, when Mom died, she left a huge mess behind. And, actually, a reluctance to deal with this mess might be part of why she died. But that's a sort of pop-psychology, avoidance issue thing that I may or may not write about later. In any case, due to an unpaid loan situation, I thought my mom had lost the rights to her land and house, and was only living there because no one wanted to kick a poor old lady out, which could have happened. I was also wicked disappointed because the monies owed were less than 10% of the value of the land, a pretty raw deal. As it turns out, I was wrong, and I am so happy about that.
There is a bit of money owed, a debt to an acquaintance of Mom's who paid property taxes for her, but I have the opportunity to pay off the debt and keep the land where Mom, my little brother Edward, and my grandmother are buried. So that's a very good thing. I've never owned anything worth that much either. To find myself a homeowner, even due to such unhappy circumstances, is rather exciting.
It's not much of a place, 2 1/4 acres of boggy land and an unfinished house with no water or plumbing, jury-rigged electricity and a wood stove for heat. And no driveway to speak of. And twenty-five years worth of hoarded junk, vermin, and cat shit, that makes the place basically uninhabitable. But the structure itself is fairly sound, it has lots of windows and there's a large garden and raspberry patch. So, yes, I have my work cut out for me, not completely sure I'm equal to the task, but hey, gotta give it a try and see what happens. And if I sound deeply ambiguous, it's because I am.