My husband just deep fried marinated portobello mushrooms.
Wow.
Out for a drive
I wanted to take jonah flying today as the weather was grand, but somone had reserved the only plane I could take all day. So we went on a 300 mile drive instead. Pictures at the gallery. We haven’t gotten sunscreen for the new glovebox yet, so I’m afraid we’re a bit sunburned.
Netflix entertains us, some.
Joanna wanted to see Capote, so we did. I’ve read In Code Blood, so there wasn’t a whole lot new for me there. It seems like the man must have been far more interesting than the movie bothered to portray. The plot was weak at best– Hoffman’s portrayal, while clearly technically difficult, seems to be the only thing the movie has going for it. C.
She also wanted to see Boys Don’t Cry. I suppose that I have a somewhat odd view of movies, in that I’m really not interested in being pummelled with a constant reminder of how horrible our world is. I’m relatively aware of its awfulness, and chose not to stew in it. C-
Joanna had seen Reality Bites and suggested that I’d enjoy it. I did, though it continually reminded me of Kicking and Screaming, a much better rendition of a similar tone, albeit with less kick. B+
We also just watched the director’s cut of Donnie Darko. We’d already seen the original once, which allowed us to taste the movie a bit more slowly and appreciate what I think its creators intended. Many people seem off-put by the plot, which I hardly found confusing, in spite of the fact that I’m easily confused by confusing plots. Generally confusing plots are not so due to their complexity, but rather their lack of continuity and sanity brought on by someone wishing to create a film which looks cool, and as a result, fails to do anything else. My only complaint is that Donnie makes a choice in the end, that much is clear, but it’s unclear exactly how he affected his choice. The director’s cut is a 20-minute slightly longer, better filled-out version– but don’t expect more “explanations”, although I hear many of those can be found in the DVD commentaries, which we didn’t watch. A.
I’m somewhat amused that I’ve rated 268 movies on Netflix. I’m sure this only represents a portion of the total number of movies I’ve actually seen– it makes me wonder how many I *have* seen. And how that number compares with the general population. 268 seems like an enormous number– if you asked me to write down 268 movie titles from memory, I don’t think I could do so. Yet I’ve actually seen far more than that.
Graphic material. Viewer discretion advised.
Michele’s foot hasn’t been doing well. I talked to her on the phone today. She said cheerily that it looked like they’d only have to amputate a third of her foot. “But there’s a vein of black going all the way up to my ankle,” she said. “And when I say it’s black, it’s not blue or dark. It’s black like coal. But I’m hoping that part is just faking it.” They scheduled an MRI today to see how much bone was alive. If bone is dead, it doesn’t grow back. They have to cut it off.
I was a little distracted the rest of the day.
I went to visit Michele this afternoon and got to be there while the foot doctor was there. I even got to watch him change the dressing. “You okay with this?” he said, as I eagerly peered forward.
“Oh yeah,” said Michele.
“I used to work in the OR,” I said.
He nodded and unwrapped stained bandages. Michele’s foot looks horrible. It’s the worst wound I’ve ever seen. I watched an amputation once when I worked in the operating room as an anesthesia aide before going to college; a lady with diabetes had to have most of her foot taken off. That was gross. This is unbelievable horrendous looking. Her flesh is a raw mass of black and red and blue on one side of her foot. The two toenails look like fuzzy growths of fungus clinging to a rotting loaf of what used to be bread.
“This is good,” said the doctor, pointing at her toes. “See this pink here? This wasn’t there before.” I have to say that it looked like a miracle to me…that new life could be generating out of that ugly mass of black seemed entirely improbable.
He doused it with a little saline and then wrapped it up again. The MRI results weren’t ready yet, he said. He’d come back when they were.
He popped back in the room a little later. No change in the bones, no spread of dead tissue. He wouldn’t need to amputate tomorrow. He wouldn’t do any cutting, just “power-wash” the dead stuff away and put synthetic skin grafts over the places where the skin was gone.
I asked him about these grafts, and he started explaining them. Michele said something like, “Ooo! Biotech!” and wanted to know all about the company. I was interested in the science. He said they have big petri dishes where they grow skin cells. Then they remove the cells, just leaving behind a protein matrix. He said he’s starting to use this kind of stuff to replace injured cartilage in knees and stuff too.
He was explaining all these while Duncan walked in. Poor Duncan was waiting to hear how much of his wife was going to be removed, and the doctor kept going on about the technical aspects of this new grafting technique. Finally, I blurted out, “He’s just going to do a power-wash tomorrow!” which, I’m afraid, didn’t help Duncan out at all.
The doctor explained what that meant. He said Michele would probably lose both toenails, but with her continued recovery, he expected her to come out of the hospital with all ten toes. “There goes my modeling career,” said Michele. He said he might send her home Friday. He says he’s very happy that there has continued to be no infection, and he thinks she’ll be less likely to develop infection outside of the hospital.
All three of us looked like we were trying not to break into tears.
Boy, this has been a roller coaster day. I’ve been asking God all day, why. And he seems to be saying, “Oh, I’m not finished yet.”
Even more photos.
I’m sure you guys are tired of endless shots of pike’s peak from the air, but hey, taking and publishing them is free. More on the gallery.