Sunday, March 20, 2016

Dear Kids,
          Dad has completely finished painting our basement. Now he’s installing switches, plugs, light fixtures, and smoke detectors. Meanwhile, I finished repairing the wall we had to cut out last week when I drilled into a water line. (I’m almost back to where I was a week ago!) But I’ve been doing other things, too. More tile. Doors. Moldings. This part of the project doesn’t seem to go very fast, but I’m hurrying, because as soon as it gets a little warmer, I’ll be out working in the yard. It’s calling to me. 
          Two weeks ago I had an endoscopy of my esophagus, and this week I’ll be having an esophagram (where you drink barium and they x-ray it going down) and also an esophageal manometry, where they test how well the muscles of your esophagus are working. I’m still having the same trouble: I eat or drink something, and swallow, but then nothing happens. Even pepsi, which sizzles, but doesn’t go anywhere. I’m frustrated with the doctor who’s doing the tests, because it’s impossible to schedule a follow-up visit with him at his office. He’s too busy, but not too busy to come to the hospital and do the testing. Medicare has its quirks. 
           Meanwhile, I think I’ve caught one of the viruses going around, and I have a sore throat and bronchitis. So imagine having both your windpipe and your esophagus hurting at the same time. Plus your chest, and your stomach. It can only get better. No way could it be worse. 
           After three Saturdays in a row watching children’s theater productions (Wizard of Oz, Dear Edwina, and The Sound of Music) Dad and I went to the Hale Center theater in Orem yesterday to see "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat." Of course it was a fabulous production. And as many times as we’ve seen it, I never get tired of the music. Dad either, who was toe-tapping the whole time. At the end, I cried when Joseph was reunited with his father. I never really felt that part before. I noticed several of the people in the cast were crying, too.
          Speaking of Dads, I called John’s house a couple of days ago, and I thought it was Grandpa Allen answering the phone. It sounded just like him! I was speechless. It was only John, who is getting to sound like his grandfather. I never realized that before.
          Life is good! I love you all! Mom