The Last Cottage - Chapter 1

    

I like to include a few chapters here and there from my books and had not realized I never posted any chapters from The Last Cottage.  Chapter 1 is below and in a week or so I'll add another chapter further into the story to give you a  hint on what Maggie and Hamilton happen upon on what becomes a very unusual and unexpected first trip after Hamilton’s retirement! I hope you will enjoy this chapter and perhaps entice you to read the rest of their story. You can find their full tale here: https://www.amazon.com/Last-Cottage-Patty-Seitz-ebook/dp/B0BY7K2VDC?ref 

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 “Where did the time go? Didn’t we just move into the family house a few years ago? I’m not sure I’m ready for this! Are you ready for this?” 

Maggie saw that look in Hamilton’s eyes that told her he was going to ask that same question he always asked when she got ahead of herself. “Which question do you want me to answer first?” he queried with his usual big grin, arms crossed in front of him. 

“Oh you! You know what I mean.” 

Maggie and Hamilton Foster had been married for 40 years and were every bit as much in love today as they were when they first met in college in 1970. It was very close to love at first sight. They had met during the second semester of their Freshman year in college at the University of Akron. 

Both were taking a speech class as an elective. Hamilton had taken it just for the fun. He loved performing and had already signed up for the next play at the university theatre, remembering how much fun it was to have been in several plays when he was in high school. He had a special love for making people laugh and discovered that, when he forgot the words to a solo song he was to sing in the senior musicale. Instead of panicking as the intro played for the third time, he had said, “Don’t worry—I’ll think of something!”  When the audience burst into laughter, the words came flooding back, and he got a standing ovation when it was over. 

Maggie took the class because she wanted to work on her shyness. She had gone to an all-girl Catholic high school. Most of her girlfriends did have boyfriends, but it never happened for Maggie. Everyone always seemed to like her well enough, but the boys did not ask her out. She couldn’t wait to get out of high school and onto the college campus. She knew it wasn’t  going to be easy, but she was determined to be more outgoing. It’s not that she felt she needed a boyfriend to be happy or fulfilled. It was more a social thing. She didn’t want to go out to parties or football games and be the only one alone. 

The class assignment was going to be a difficult one for Maggie. In 300 to 500 words, the students had to describe which athlete they would love to be, living or dead. It had to be a short description because everyone would be expected to read their choice in front of the class. Maggie had chosen Peggy Fleming, the 1968 Olympic ice skating champion in women’s singles and three-time world champion. Maggie hadn’t been ice skating since her grade school days, but she always loved it, even though she often spent more time sitting on the ice than skating on it.  She had described how she viewed Miss Fleming as a ballerina on ice, which was in such sharp contrast to her clumsiness. It felt pretty good when the class had laughed at her comparison. The teacher commented how well she felt Maggie had described the two skaters—one so eloquent, the other quite the opposite and not being afraid to poke a little fun at herself. 

Hamilton’s choice was quite unexpected, but one in which the entire class, including the teacher, erupted in applause and giggles. He chose Triple Crown winner in 1973, Secretariat. His reasoning was flawless. What other athlete could run a little less than four miles total in three races, retire, and spend your retirement days out to pasture as a stud?  It had never occurred to the teacher to not only state an athlete living or dead, but also human! 

“You don’t strike me as someone who would be clumsy on skates, but it was good to hear I’m not the only one,” Hamilton quipped as he came up to Maggie before she headed out the door. He had wanted to speak to her before but didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Even though he had girlfriends in high school and was pretty outgoing, he always felt a little awkward around girls, at least when first meeting. He had noticed Maggie from the first day of class.  He loved that her huge brown eyes perfectly matched her long straight hair.  It seemed to him by her demeanor that she was somewhat shy and wondered why she would take a speech class if that was truly the case. He hoped he would find out. 

Maggie was startled that he came up to her out of the blue, but it made her feel good. She hadn’t noticed until that moment how green his eyes were. He was a few inches taller than her and very lean with light brown very curly hair. She wondered if he was a runner. She laughed to herself that she was finding she was so curious about this boy when she hadn’t really noticed him before this particular day. Don’t just stand there staring at him, Maggie. Say something for crying out loud. I hope he doesn’t read minds!  “I didn’t make that up. I was always falling down and never got the knack for it, even though I enjoyed it so much. I was a tomboy when I was a kid. Climbing trees or playing kickball. Loved freeze tag.” Good grief, Maggie. First you say nothing, and now you can’t shut up. SHUT. UP! 

“I’m Hamilton Foster,” he grinned as he put out his hand to her in introduction. “You’re Maggie Hamilton, right? I guess if we get married, I’ll have to take your name,” he joked. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Maggie laughed. “People might think you are just trying to be funny when you have to give your full name.” 

“Yeah, never thought of that. Hey, do you have a class right now? Would love to buy you a soda or cup of coffee. Nothing else, though. If you’re a tea drinker, we’ll have to end things right here and now.” 

“No more classes until 3 for me, and to be honest, I never liked tea all that much. I can drink it, but it’s coffee for me—black and strong. By the way, Hamilton is kind of an unusual first name. Is it a family name?” 

“Oh, I get that question so often, I should print out a pamphlet to hand out to people,” he sighed. “It’s a funny story and shows what quirky parents I have. You see, my mom had a big celebrity crush on George Hamilton. So much so, that it became a big joke when my parents were dating. Dad would often get Mom a gift, like a sweatshirt with George Hamilton’s picture on it, a framed autographed picture, a golf ball marker with his famous face. She has quite the collection. So when they married and had me, it only seemed natural to name me Hamilton. And before you ask, they both felt George would never work because there would be no funny tale with such a common name like George.  Of course, they never considered I would have to tell the story over and over again as I grew up.” 

“I think I’m in love with your parents,” Maggie said with a big smile. “I guess it’s a good thing your mom’s crush was not on Arnold Schwarzenegger.”   

“Oh man, I never thought of that,” Hamilton chuckled. “How about you? Is Maggie short for  Margaret or something?” 

“No. My parents liked the name Maggie. My middle name is June for my mom’s mom. She passed away about three years before I was born, and they were very close. I wish I could have known her. I feel blessed that I do love my name. Except when Mom would be angry at me and yell Maggie June!  I always knew I was in major trouble when she used my full name. I don’t suppose your middle name is George?” Maggie asked. 

“You would think, but I actually don’t have a middle name. Mom and Dad felt Hamilton Foster was a mouthful and left that part of my birth certificate blank. Even that had turned into a humorous incident. I was filling out an application at the bank when I opened up a savings account. Instead of leaving the middle name blank, I put capital N, capital A, without any slash mark, not even thinking about it. The clerk looked at that and said ‘Hamilton Na Foster?’  I replied back ‘No. Hamilton Not Applicable Foster’ with what I think was an utterly stunned look on my face that she didn’t understand the notation.  Then I felt bad because she looked so embarrassed, but I apologized right way for not putting the slash mark. She started to giggle and admitted she couldn’t believe she didn’t catch what that was. We both got to laughing, and the other clerks were looking at us like we were drunk.” 

“WOW! You have gotten a lot of laughs out of your name, it would seem,” Maggie expressed. “Good thing you have inherited your mom and dad’s sense of humor.  I do have one quirky thing about my family, though, not related to names at all.” 

Hamilton was very intrigued and also couldn't believe how much fun he was having with Maggie, even though they had only known each other for all of about 20 minutes.  Is this a love-at-first-sight thing?  he wondered to himself.  He definitely knew he did not want this afternoon to end. “Something stranger than my family? I have got to hear this!” he grinned. 

“Well, most people don’t believe this when I tell them, but not only is my birthday May 10th, but my mom, her mom, her mom’s mom, and the mom before that were all born on May 10th.  I was a C-section, or I probably would not have been born on the 10th, but it was a necessary C-section, not that Mom just insisted I be born on that day. So when she had the choice, she just couldn't resist. We did also know that my great grandmother was born about three weeks early, so that one was kind of a freaky accident. We always laughed that she knew the 10th was the day you had to be born or suffer the consequences. It seems some were kind of accidents, but it really puts the pressure on me to have a daughter on the 10th of May, I guess.” 

“Well, I'm not sure which of our stories is quirkier,” Hamilton laughed. “Going to have to give that some thought.” 

Maggie almost missed her 3-o’clock class that day, as they had talked about everything from their childhood to high school experiences. Maggie felt so at ease with Hamilton. It was as if her shyness completely melted away. They were practically inseparable after that, and over 40 years later, they were still just as happy and often silly with each other as that very first quirky day. 

“Yes, my love, I know what you mean,” Hamilton teased as he gave Maggie a hug. “Now you know my actual last day is not for a few months yet.  We do have some decisions to make, though.” 

“I know. It’s kind of overwhelming what we need to do to get ready for the big day and after that,” Maggie agreed. 

“Oh Honey, it’s not going to be such a big day. Remember we planned to go out to dinner on my last day and then just have a few friends and family over the next day for a BBQ. You promised there would be no surprise parties, so you better stick to that. A promise is a promise.” 

Maggie wasn’t planning any surprises, as she had promised.   She explained that it wasn’t a true feeling of being overwhelmed but just a little anxious about adjusting to this new chapter in their lives.  She had been used to being home alone during the day with their pup, an 8-year-old Lab named Remy they had rescued from a friend of a friend who could no longer take care of her, as he was moving to Europe for a job.  About a year ago, they had lost their sweet puppy girl, Bailey, to lung cancer, and Maggie was still heartbroken over the loss. When Hamilton and Maggie went to meet this new potential family member, Remy passed everyone and ran right up to Maggie, practically knocking her over to give her a big slurp on the face. It was as if Remy immediately knew she had to fix Maggie’s heart. 

“No, I'm thinking more of feeling a little anxious at having you home all day,” Maggie grinned.  “Remy is going to love it, but I'm not sure I'm ready to play tug with you or throw the ball for you and Remy to chase.” 

“No doubt, it’s going to take some getting used to for both of us. I do have a feeling Remy won't have any problems adjusting,” Hamilton chuckled.  “But one thing, or I should say two things, we do have to work on before the big day,” Hamilton said with air quotes, “is that we have to decide where our destination is going to be for our first trip PR, and are we going to stay in this house when we get back or make our move and let the kids take over.” 

“Well, now I have two things I need to ask about that work,” Maggie replied, looking a little serious. “What is PR and what do you mean are we going to stay here?” 

Maggie was never big on change, although she always handled it well when she had to. But she knew the one thing she was not ready for, and possibly would never truly be ready for, was leaving the home she grew up in, fell in love in, marriage, children, her entire life all in this house. She sat down on the kitchen chair a little quicker than she intended, looking out the window with tears in her eyes.  

 

The Vanishing Gallbladder

  

Yes, that is my Molly looking very confused, which is what happened to me about 10 days ago, when around  mid afternoon I started to have an uncomfortable gut ache, although I can't imagine that ever being comfortable. I have had that happen before, as sometimes what I eat can bother me. But this time it wasn’t going away. By the next morning, it was still hurting, and Joe and I decided I needed to head to urgent care. What I thought would be a 3 or 4-hour visit turned out to be a 7-day hospital stay and undergoing 2 procedures and a surgery.

I had a CT scan at the urgent care facility and showed gallstones. I had another scan at the hospital and obviously told the stones would need to be removed. I was asked if I had my gallbladder removed because they couldn't see it on the films. I told them no. I was asked more than once, probably thinking I simply didn’t remember it. I might forget my phone or wallet once in a while, but I wouldn't forget losing my gallbladder. The next step was undergoing an ERCP (a much easier way of saying Endoscopic Retrograde Cholangiopancreatography). I won't go into details about the procedure, but the main purpose was to check out the organs and remove the gallstones. Thankfully, I tolerated the procedure very well. In case you’re wondering, the stones were in my bile duct system.

Here’s the thing, though. They told me they could not find my gallbladder. Um, what? How does one lose a gallbladder? Perhaps the breast lumpectomy I had a few years back was actually my gallbladder disguised as a precancerous tumor! It was decided I needed to have a cholecystectomy to make sure that pesky GB wasn’t  hiding behind my liver or pancreas. So I had that the day after the ERCP. It was discovered I have gallbladder agenesis. No, that’s not a planet in the Delta quadrant on Star Trek. It’s a rare but real thing. I simply don’t have a gallbladder. I do have what’s called a fistula, which is an abnormal connection between 2 organs, this one I think connecting my colon and liver. I was also told my liver, colon, and pancreas are stuck together.  When I found that out, I thought surely I must be on Candid Camera! This cannot be real!

In any event, the day after that surgery, I thought I was going to be discharged. In fact, the nurse came in with the discharge papers in her hand! Another nurse came flying in saying nope, surgeon wants a colonoscopy. Everyone wanted to get in on the action and check out that fistula. Even if you have not had a colonoscopy, I'm sure you know all about the fun in prepping for it. Now in my case, I had an IV line running with fluids and antibiotics, so it was not possible for me to use the bathroom. Yep, got to experience the pleasure of using a beside commode, which at least was better than a bed pan. But unfortunately, by morning, I still was not clear. You see there can't be even a speck of brown in the bowl or it’s a no-go. Yeah, that meant another night of prepping.  I did have to hit the call button with every visit, because of any risk of fall, so each time I prayed it would not be a male nurse. One time it was, but he was very sweet and stood by the bathroom until I ready to get back to bed.  At one visit, the nurse came in, sat me down and said there was an emergency and she would be back shortly.

I'm waiting, waiting, waiting—no nurse. I wondered if I had misunderstood and I was to use the call button to let her know I was done, since she had to leave the room for that emergency. The remote was on the bed, and I could easily reach it, but I did have to stand up to get it. When I did that, I heard a noise I should not have heard because it didn’t come out of me. The bucket you sit on is removable. And it managed to remove itself, crashing to the floor. It’s bad enough my gallbladder went missing, but now the floor is covered in a sunburst pattern of diarrhea? The thought of God does not give you more than you can handle went right out the door that night! The nurse was so kind and apologetic that she had not gotten back to me, but on a sad note, they could not save the patient who had the emergency. So I was not about to complain or be upset. There was a pad underneath the pot, and not a drop hit the floor, so there was that. It was a quick cleanup!

Oh but I'm not quite done yet with the lack of dignity.  There was one instance when I was in the bathroom, and I was trying to pull up my underwear. When I bent over, my gown fell to my lap, and there I'm sitting with my panties around my ankles, and my gown sitting in my lap. That was an easy fix, of course. But as I was trying to right this wrong, I accidentally pulled on the string hanging by the grab bar that tells the nurses station they are needed. It was a male nurse in my room waiting for me to finish, and I yelled out “I'm okay, I’m okay! Just pulled that string by accident!” So thank the dear Lord, I didn’t have to send that poor male nurse into therapy.

One last thing that isn't about lack of dignity. I had a lot of blood draws throughout my stay, on top of more than one IV line. They were running out of veins, as apparently I have tiny veins. So what else is new? The lab tech said she was going to get this nurse who is super good at finding a workable vein. They shine this green light on your arm, and it lights up all your veins, but you have to find a certain type for taking blood. In walks this male nurse at least 6 feet tall,  looking like a young Antonio Banderas, and I swear I heard music! My face must have been 85 shades of red, not from blushing, but because I was trying to hide my veins so he couldn't find anything. I think even Joe was crushing on this guy! I mean, come on, Antonio Banderas!

I’m home now, feeling better each day, although I still might have to have that fistula fixed, but with a little luck and prayers, it won't need any further treatment, but if it does, I will remember next time to leave my dignity in my other purse. Thanks for reading this long post. I always appreciate your stopping by. Remember, keep reading, keep writing, don’t neglect your health, and enjoy your day!