I promise that I will not let this blog become a spiraling ode to whining, complaining and self-pity. Especially after knowing what is happening in Myanmar (formerly Burma), what do I really have to say in comparison to that.
But, to be informative, that two friends who are physical therapists say that it is highly likely I will have back surgery. I have a large protruding disc fragment that is usually not healed by conservative measures and PT. Bummer. The good side is the surgery is relatively minor and some patients even feel relief in the recovery room. I think I have to lay low 6-8 weeks after.
The earliest appointment for the neurosurgeon is the 13th - and that is not the particular office or doc I wanted. I also have an appointment on the 22nd for the practice I wanted, 3oth to get my doc of choice. I was going to wait it out until the 30th (although I hadn't figured out how), but then was told that I could risk permanently damaging the root nerve if I wait too long.
My prayer requests:
1. Healing and relief from pain.
2. Doctor has a cancellation and I can slip in there sooner
3. Surgery, if needed, would happen before the end of May for two reasons
a. Kids are still in school
b. My mom leaves to visit little John and Alisa until the end of June
4. Jay - because the new company just started and he needs me. I am limited in what I can do.
I am to let pain be my guide - so basically no driving. No lifting, no bending at the waist - walking will be limited because pain increases the longer I stand - I can take about 10-15 minutes and then I have to lay down.
So - call me, come visit me, email me. Predictably, I will be at home.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Musings about Bobo
Some of you are familiar with our faithful companion, Bobo. He came to us through Animal Rescue because Jay thought our other dog, DINKY, needed a friend. Upon arrival at our house, Bobo was already a...how can I say this with love...a dog only his mother could love. Long skinny legs, large round body, short black hair, small head, large ears, purple spots on his tongue indicating some minute amount of chow in him - you know a complete mutt. He was extremely hyper, too. I would come out the garage door with one knee already poised to knock him down before he jumped on me with his dirty paws.
Over the years Bobo has endured multiple injuries, and yet, he continues to thrive. He has outlived two other dogs, two cats, 2 sets of love birds (4 in total), and two hermit crabs - a testimony to his ability to beat the odds. It has been a dismal pet history in our house (good for another post). He fought back heart worms, a car injury that reduced him to one eye and dermatitis which has left him practically bald on his back half.
The one eye is what seems to fascinate most people. We could have forked out $700 for a prosthetic eyeball, but decided that was a little ridiculous for a dog. So, they just sewed it up, leaving a sunken spot where the eye would have been. It only took a couple of days of running into things for him to compensate. And, it wasn't long before he took out a non-rabid raccoon in one swift pounce.
The kids like to announce to complete strangers, loudly, "We have a dog with one eye because my Daddy ran over him with the car." Not all entirely true. Jay was driving his car with a trailer attached and it seems that Bobo just got caught between the two. The eye came out and was just sort of dangling there. Quite sickening. That was 5 years ago.
So when it was "pet week" at school, Ethan a was a little apprehensive. I don't know if it were out of embarrassment of our slightly decrepit dog or what. I showed up with Bobo and he was instantly a hit with the boys. The girls pretty much said Ewwww and stood back. The boys all wanted to examine the eye socket and I had to prevent them from touching the area, intrigued as they were. Kind of put Bobo in a fresh perspective for Ethan.
This week, I heard Lily making up a song about Bobo. It was to the tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel." I thought it was pretty creative, yet also a little gross, when she sang, "Pop! goes the eyeball!"
Overall, Bobo has it made. He has the run of outside. He may venture over to our neighbor to mingle with his three dogs, but normally just hangs around here. He has a dog door to garage which rarely gets below 55 degrees. He has a continuous water and food bucket. Most people are surprised to see that he has learned to pace himself with his food and doesn't gorge himself to death. He doesn't know any tricks. He just runs away with any balls thrown in his direction. I would venture to say he is intelligent because if I linger too long in the garage or mention the word 'bath' he won't come near me.
Up until now, he has been about as low maintenance as a dog can be. However, that has changed a bit with the dermatitis, which has taken its toll. We have tried multiple remedies which have not worked. We have found that weekly baths and a topical spray provides some relief. But, ultimately, his physical appearance condition make him look horribly neglected and paints us as inhumane animal owners.
It is nice to see that his appearance doesn't change the kids' view of him. Sadie brought home a super sweet and rather large picture of Bobo that she had drawn. I noticed that she had drawn spots on him - which in real life he doesn't have. I asked and she replied - those are his bald spots! Oh. She wrote on the picture," I love Bobo. He dus not have a i." I love kindergarten spelling.
I don't think the kids will ever forget him. I know I won't.
So, to open some dialogue in my comments section, I ask the question: What was your most memorable pet and why?
Over the years Bobo has endured multiple injuries, and yet, he continues to thrive. He has outlived two other dogs, two cats, 2 sets of love birds (4 in total), and two hermit crabs - a testimony to his ability to beat the odds. It has been a dismal pet history in our house (good for another post). He fought back heart worms, a car injury that reduced him to one eye and dermatitis which has left him practically bald on his back half.
The one eye is what seems to fascinate most people. We could have forked out $700 for a prosthetic eyeball, but decided that was a little ridiculous for a dog. So, they just sewed it up, leaving a sunken spot where the eye would have been. It only took a couple of days of running into things for him to compensate. And, it wasn't long before he took out a non-rabid raccoon in one swift pounce.
The kids like to announce to complete strangers, loudly, "We have a dog with one eye because my Daddy ran over him with the car." Not all entirely true. Jay was driving his car with a trailer attached and it seems that Bobo just got caught between the two. The eye came out and was just sort of dangling there. Quite sickening. That was 5 years ago.
So when it was "pet week" at school, Ethan a was a little apprehensive. I don't know if it were out of embarrassment of our slightly decrepit dog or what. I showed up with Bobo and he was instantly a hit with the boys. The girls pretty much said Ewwww and stood back. The boys all wanted to examine the eye socket and I had to prevent them from touching the area, intrigued as they were. Kind of put Bobo in a fresh perspective for Ethan.
This week, I heard Lily making up a song about Bobo. It was to the tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel." I thought it was pretty creative, yet also a little gross, when she sang, "Pop! goes the eyeball!"
Overall, Bobo has it made. He has the run of outside. He may venture over to our neighbor to mingle with his three dogs, but normally just hangs around here. He has a dog door to garage which rarely gets below 55 degrees. He has a continuous water and food bucket. Most people are surprised to see that he has learned to pace himself with his food and doesn't gorge himself to death. He doesn't know any tricks. He just runs away with any balls thrown in his direction. I would venture to say he is intelligent because if I linger too long in the garage or mention the word 'bath' he won't come near me.
Up until now, he has been about as low maintenance as a dog can be. However, that has changed a bit with the dermatitis, which has taken its toll. We have tried multiple remedies which have not worked. We have found that weekly baths and a topical spray provides some relief. But, ultimately, his physical appearance condition make him look horribly neglected and paints us as inhumane animal owners.
It is nice to see that his appearance doesn't change the kids' view of him. Sadie brought home a super sweet and rather large picture of Bobo that she had drawn. I noticed that she had drawn spots on him - which in real life he doesn't have. I asked and she replied - those are his bald spots! Oh. She wrote on the picture," I love Bobo. He dus not have a i." I love kindergarten spelling.
I don't think the kids will ever forget him. I know I won't.
So, to open some dialogue in my comments section, I ask the question: What was your most memorable pet and why?
Monday, May 05, 2008
I was right all along
So, I just went to pick the kids up. It was so painful I actually omitted some shrieks. I think I scared the kids and I hate that. I got home, hit the bed and grabbed the phone. I was getting an appointment with the doctor this afternoon and I wasn't leaving until I had an answer.
Well, I broke down on the phone with the nurse. She was kind. She said, well, we got the results from your MRI - has no one called you? No - they haven't. Well, we are trying to get you an appointment as soon as possible with a neurosurgeon. You have a very large protruding disc. A nurse will call you as soon as we have the appointment set.
I think I started crying harder at that point - not because of the diagnosis, but because there was a diagnosis that didn't make me look like a complete hypochondriac. I still would like some more/stronger pain medication at this point.
I have no idea what this means, however. If someone does, will you please let me know?!?!?!
Well, I broke down on the phone with the nurse. She was kind. She said, well, we got the results from your MRI - has no one called you? No - they haven't. Well, we are trying to get you an appointment as soon as possible with a neurosurgeon. You have a very large protruding disc. A nurse will call you as soon as we have the appointment set.
I think I started crying harder at that point - not because of the diagnosis, but because there was a diagnosis that didn't make me look like a complete hypochondriac. I still would like some more/stronger pain medication at this point.
I have no idea what this means, however. If someone does, will you please let me know?!?!?!
Give a girl a break
WARNING: Complete whining and complaining post ahead. Read with caution.
You know, I figure myself for a pretty easy patient. I don't ask for much. I may come down with some illness that requires one office visit a year. So, when I have something truly ailing me, I expect some service, with a smile, and above all else honesty. I have not received much of that over the past week and a half. I know there are worse things in the world, more time-deserving issues, life-threatening illness, but certainly during the course of 12 days some solution could be found.
Now to preface this blog before I go any further, I am a fairly new patient at HPFP. I had been relying on my OBGYN for most ailments until I couldn't justify it any longer. Jay had the ole snipper-roo done, so who am I kidding here. I threw myself at the mercy of an urgent care place for a few minor issues. I am sure I will step on toes when I suggest it is the work solution for sub-standard doctors who received their degrees from institutions I have never heard of. Not to mention the last doc I saw at this place "fixed" my bra strap for me as he checked my breathing - ewwww! Anyway, to start my relationship off correctly with HPFP I had a complete physical about a month ago. Everything came out perfect.
A few weeks later I began to experience shooting pain from my right rear cheek (the one located in the lower half of my body) down the back of my thigh that was seriously accentuated when sitting or driving. Naturally, I called my new doctor and was ushered in the next afternoon, not that day. I arrived at the practice and was greeted by a part-time doctor wearing flip flops and capri's (professional?). I was given a muscle relaxer and a pain killer of mild form and told to take it easy over the weekend. I was given a follow-up appointment in a week. Over the weekend things went down hill. More numbness, pain more consistently, so I called on Monday and was seen by my normal doctor. She giggled as she tried to code the office visit, because according to her, there was no code for "butt pain." I was not amused. I stated that I thought it might be consistent with sciatic nerve or related to disc issues. She seemed enlightened by this bit of self-diagnosis and coded it as such. She even knew about my previous bulging disc, commenting that I was too young to have had that. She scheduled a pelvic x-ray, gave me hydrocodone and I left. She also mentioned she totally didn't expect the x-ray to show anything. When it didn't show anything, she would schedule an MRI. The x-ray didn't show anything and I had to call them to ask about the MRI. That was on Tuesday. Above all else, there is absolutely no difference in my pain level when I am taking the medication prescribed and when I am not.
Throughout the week my abilities have been severely limited. I am in absolute agony driving after about 5 minutes, making my shuttling the kids a nightmare. I cannot stoop to pick anything up unless I kneel on my knees - no bending, no crouching, no stooping. My house is slowly decaying around me. I can not sit at my desk to help out Jay. Instead I lean back on the bed -a bout the only place to get comfortable. Even going to the bathroom is well, tender.
I have made multiple calls to the doctor's office since. I have gotten surly nurses who seemed totally put out that I am calling. I have gotten unanswered calls. No one has suggested that I come back in, or talk to a doctor. Noth-ing. I have explained that I am not a drug seeker (suggested to me by a friend who is a doctor). I want a solution, therapy, anything.
To be fair, I have been offered one other solution - prednisone (sp) which I told dr. #1 I couldn't take because it turned me into a caged wild cat (seriously) - can't sleep, highly agitated, shortness of breath, etc.
Now, I understand, my MRI was at 4:30 pm on a beautiful NC Friday afternoon - no one with any sense was working, let alone a doctor. However, the technician offered that I would hear something in 2-3 days. I asked for clarification - so probably Monday? She said, oh, no, sometimes they work Saturday and Sunday, so you might hear sooner. We will send these results right over. I am thinking - great - I clarified it, now I know. Saturday and Sunday came and went and no answers. I called this morning and no one has seen the results. In fact, the person who called me back said it might even be tomorrow. WHAT?!??!?!
I spent three years dealing with Ansley's cancer. Never, NEVER, did things take this long. The Imaging Center and my doctor are all part of the medical monopoly in High Point called Cornerstone. There should be some collaboration here, right?
Have I given my doctor's office the wrong impression? Why doesn't anyone in the medical community seem to care that I am disabled and cannot take care of my family? Do I just need to go in there and raise holy heck to get some help? Is the system that broken?
Suggestions welcome.
You know, I figure myself for a pretty easy patient. I don't ask for much. I may come down with some illness that requires one office visit a year. So, when I have something truly ailing me, I expect some service, with a smile, and above all else honesty. I have not received much of that over the past week and a half. I know there are worse things in the world, more time-deserving issues, life-threatening illness, but certainly during the course of 12 days some solution could be found.
Now to preface this blog before I go any further, I am a fairly new patient at HPFP. I had been relying on my OBGYN for most ailments until I couldn't justify it any longer. Jay had the ole snipper-roo done, so who am I kidding here. I threw myself at the mercy of an urgent care place for a few minor issues. I am sure I will step on toes when I suggest it is the work solution for sub-standard doctors who received their degrees from institutions I have never heard of. Not to mention the last doc I saw at this place "fixed" my bra strap for me as he checked my breathing - ewwww! Anyway, to start my relationship off correctly with HPFP I had a complete physical about a month ago. Everything came out perfect.
A few weeks later I began to experience shooting pain from my right rear cheek (the one located in the lower half of my body) down the back of my thigh that was seriously accentuated when sitting or driving. Naturally, I called my new doctor and was ushered in the next afternoon, not that day. I arrived at the practice and was greeted by a part-time doctor wearing flip flops and capri's (professional?). I was given a muscle relaxer and a pain killer of mild form and told to take it easy over the weekend. I was given a follow-up appointment in a week. Over the weekend things went down hill. More numbness, pain more consistently, so I called on Monday and was seen by my normal doctor. She giggled as she tried to code the office visit, because according to her, there was no code for "butt pain." I was not amused. I stated that I thought it might be consistent with sciatic nerve or related to disc issues. She seemed enlightened by this bit of self-diagnosis and coded it as such. She even knew about my previous bulging disc, commenting that I was too young to have had that. She scheduled a pelvic x-ray, gave me hydrocodone and I left. She also mentioned she totally didn't expect the x-ray to show anything. When it didn't show anything, she would schedule an MRI. The x-ray didn't show anything and I had to call them to ask about the MRI. That was on Tuesday. Above all else, there is absolutely no difference in my pain level when I am taking the medication prescribed and when I am not.
Throughout the week my abilities have been severely limited. I am in absolute agony driving after about 5 minutes, making my shuttling the kids a nightmare. I cannot stoop to pick anything up unless I kneel on my knees - no bending, no crouching, no stooping. My house is slowly decaying around me. I can not sit at my desk to help out Jay. Instead I lean back on the bed -a bout the only place to get comfortable. Even going to the bathroom is well, tender.
I have made multiple calls to the doctor's office since. I have gotten surly nurses who seemed totally put out that I am calling. I have gotten unanswered calls. No one has suggested that I come back in, or talk to a doctor. Noth-ing. I have explained that I am not a drug seeker (suggested to me by a friend who is a doctor). I want a solution, therapy, anything.
To be fair, I have been offered one other solution - prednisone (sp) which I told dr. #1 I couldn't take because it turned me into a caged wild cat (seriously) - can't sleep, highly agitated, shortness of breath, etc.
Now, I understand, my MRI was at 4:30 pm on a beautiful NC Friday afternoon - no one with any sense was working, let alone a doctor. However, the technician offered that I would hear something in 2-3 days. I asked for clarification - so probably Monday? She said, oh, no, sometimes they work Saturday and Sunday, so you might hear sooner. We will send these results right over. I am thinking - great - I clarified it, now I know. Saturday and Sunday came and went and no answers. I called this morning and no one has seen the results. In fact, the person who called me back said it might even be tomorrow. WHAT?!??!?!
I spent three years dealing with Ansley's cancer. Never, NEVER, did things take this long. The Imaging Center and my doctor are all part of the medical monopoly in High Point called Cornerstone. There should be some collaboration here, right?
Have I given my doctor's office the wrong impression? Why doesn't anyone in the medical community seem to care that I am disabled and cannot take care of my family? Do I just need to go in there and raise holy heck to get some help? Is the system that broken?
Suggestions welcome.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Tadpoles - the next generation
Growing up, Ansley and I spent a week or two every summer at my grandmother's house in the almost non-existent town of Coats, NC. This one-stop-light town in Eastern, NC epitomizes all that is good and bad of the rural south - safety, community, faith, farming, poverty and racism.
But for us, it was heaven for those two weeks. Mama Lib's house was full of love and healthy discipline. The weeks were a balance between work in their very large vegetable garden and fun days at the Moose Lodge pool, vacation bible school and drives to larger towns for their bowling alleys and water slides. I learned all about picking peas, shucking corn (and the little nasty worms that sometimes accompany it), shelling pecans, even digging up potatoes. We were allowed to pick whatever cereal we wanted from the grocery store for that week. What a treat this was as we were only non-sugar cereal like Cheerios in my house. I always went for Lucky Charms, while Ansley, the sugar addict that she was, went for Frankenberry or BooBerry with all of its food coloring and cups of sugar.
Our only cousin, Alan, lived with my grandmother for a few years and he is an integral part of my wonderfully fond memories there.
One summer, Mama Lib took us to a fish farm to hear about how they raised the fish. At the end, we were allowed to take a tadpole home with us. They lived in a bucket outside her carport and we named them. We watched in anticipation nearly hourly as they slowly grew legs, tails disappearing. One morning we checked on them and there were only two left. One had jumped the bucket, setting out for his new adult life. Later that day, the other two disappeared. We were sad as it had been a fun adventure and lesson in nature.
This all came to mind to me yesterday. Jay took the cub scouts on a hike around Pilot Mountain. Sadie tagged along as well. They came home happy, but worn out. Sadie found some friends to bring home, too. As you can probably predict, I now have a bucket on my back deck full of little tadpoles. Already this morning, they have been checked on by their Mother Sadie at least four times before leaving for church.
What a lesson for me now, as a mom. I watch my own children so closely with anticipation, love. They are growing faster than I would like, each day bringing new changes and challenges, laughter on new levels and conversations with more depth. Suddenly, I know, they will be adults, ready for the world. And, I am sure, I will be filled with much more sadness when the fun adventure of having them under my roof and under my watchful eyes is over.
But for us, it was heaven for those two weeks. Mama Lib's house was full of love and healthy discipline. The weeks were a balance between work in their very large vegetable garden and fun days at the Moose Lodge pool, vacation bible school and drives to larger towns for their bowling alleys and water slides. I learned all about picking peas, shucking corn (and the little nasty worms that sometimes accompany it), shelling pecans, even digging up potatoes. We were allowed to pick whatever cereal we wanted from the grocery store for that week. What a treat this was as we were only non-sugar cereal like Cheerios in my house. I always went for Lucky Charms, while Ansley, the sugar addict that she was, went for Frankenberry or BooBerry with all of its food coloring and cups of sugar.
Our only cousin, Alan, lived with my grandmother for a few years and he is an integral part of my wonderfully fond memories there.
One summer, Mama Lib took us to a fish farm to hear about how they raised the fish. At the end, we were allowed to take a tadpole home with us. They lived in a bucket outside her carport and we named them. We watched in anticipation nearly hourly as they slowly grew legs, tails disappearing. One morning we checked on them and there were only two left. One had jumped the bucket, setting out for his new adult life. Later that day, the other two disappeared. We were sad as it had been a fun adventure and lesson in nature.
This all came to mind to me yesterday. Jay took the cub scouts on a hike around Pilot Mountain. Sadie tagged along as well. They came home happy, but worn out. Sadie found some friends to bring home, too. As you can probably predict, I now have a bucket on my back deck full of little tadpoles. Already this morning, they have been checked on by their Mother Sadie at least four times before leaving for church.
What a lesson for me now, as a mom. I watch my own children so closely with anticipation, love. They are growing faster than I would like, each day bringing new changes and challenges, laughter on new levels and conversations with more depth. Suddenly, I know, they will be adults, ready for the world. And, I am sure, I will be filled with much more sadness when the fun adventure of having them under my roof and under my watchful eyes is over.
Working on the Change, Gang
I know, I know, I have butchered some lyrics in the title, but it aptly applies to my week. Tomorrow is a super big day in the Dumoulin household. It is the realization of a life-long dream of Jay's. It is opening day of our new business, RaRa Telecom Supply.
Jay has been at home as he has ethically waited out his 6-month non-compete agreement from his former employer. It has been 6 months of unexpected blessings. Jay has become a master baker - his authentic Dutch apple pies are to die for along with numerous variations of bread made daily. We haven't bought bread the entire time he has been home! At least I know that if the business fails, we can fall back on baking. Some lady hawks her apple pies on QVC for $35 and I KNOW they can't be as scrumptious!
Another blessing has been in the time he has spent with the children. They will never forget this time of Dad taking them to and from school, Dad taking them to the library, Dad being focused solely on them and not distracted by work. Upon returning home, I would often find Jay upstairs in Ethan's room, with all three kids, making and creating with legos - thousands of pieces scattered all over the floor. Priceless.
Jay is an incredible financial planner. This gift is especially important because I am not. It is only through his dedication that we were able to have 6 months without income and not incur any debt. God showered incredible blessings on us during this time and HE gets the glory for this. We were blessed by income tax returns, market rental money, money from a photo shoot at our house, and two unexpected inheritances. It has been an incredible ride.
Yes, it was a trying time at first. Jay was abruptly inserted into my daily schedule and my self-created world. He questioned processes I had created that worked for me. He checked the grocery bills, he challenged my time-management skills, he even asked about laundry. It was tough.
However, I found myself staying at home more, partially out of financial need and partially because it was fun to hang out together. One night in late November, I realized that we actually, *gasp*, chit-chatted. I reveled in it. Clearly, we had come to a point in our marriage where communication consisted only on doling out information and instruction. Now here we were, chatting like we did on our first date. Suddenly, I found my husband again - the man I married - not the man whose previous job had turned him into a volcano that erupted on a regular schedule. It was a clear revelation that this is where we needed to be - whether the new business succeeded or not.
Jay knows his direction - the compass is crystal clear. I am still a little hazy - my life consists of the usual stay at home duties. But now a new element - the business - has been thrown in. I have been thrust into an industry I know nothing about, working on government contracts - say what? My brain has not crunched numbers, worked a fax machine, maintained databases, worked in a business environment in over 7 years. I am a little shell-shocked. It also doesn't help that my pain issues prevent me from sitting for more than 10 minutes (more on that later). At some point a decision will have to be made. I will have to go forward with the business, giving up some of my household duties OR forgo the business and maintain my position. It is easy to give up cleaning the house, maintaining the yard and errands, BUT I can't give up time with my kids. I am already enrolling Lily in 5-day a week preschool next year, a step I did begrudgingly. They are quietly growing up on me and I am already trying to grasp at the stages they were at yesterday. Ethan will be 8 - yes, 8, at the end of this month. I don't want to miss anything, but yet, my husband needs me now, too. I pray to God for a clarity and balance - that the position I take is what God would want from me and that Jay senses it, too.
Jay has been at home as he has ethically waited out his 6-month non-compete agreement from his former employer. It has been 6 months of unexpected blessings. Jay has become a master baker - his authentic Dutch apple pies are to die for along with numerous variations of bread made daily. We haven't bought bread the entire time he has been home! At least I know that if the business fails, we can fall back on baking. Some lady hawks her apple pies on QVC for $35 and I KNOW they can't be as scrumptious!
Another blessing has been in the time he has spent with the children. They will never forget this time of Dad taking them to and from school, Dad taking them to the library, Dad being focused solely on them and not distracted by work. Upon returning home, I would often find Jay upstairs in Ethan's room, with all three kids, making and creating with legos - thousands of pieces scattered all over the floor. Priceless.
Jay is an incredible financial planner. This gift is especially important because I am not. It is only through his dedication that we were able to have 6 months without income and not incur any debt. God showered incredible blessings on us during this time and HE gets the glory for this. We were blessed by income tax returns, market rental money, money from a photo shoot at our house, and two unexpected inheritances. It has been an incredible ride.
Yes, it was a trying time at first. Jay was abruptly inserted into my daily schedule and my self-created world. He questioned processes I had created that worked for me. He checked the grocery bills, he challenged my time-management skills, he even asked about laundry. It was tough.
However, I found myself staying at home more, partially out of financial need and partially because it was fun to hang out together. One night in late November, I realized that we actually, *gasp*, chit-chatted. I reveled in it. Clearly, we had come to a point in our marriage where communication consisted only on doling out information and instruction. Now here we were, chatting like we did on our first date. Suddenly, I found my husband again - the man I married - not the man whose previous job had turned him into a volcano that erupted on a regular schedule. It was a clear revelation that this is where we needed to be - whether the new business succeeded or not.
Jay knows his direction - the compass is crystal clear. I am still a little hazy - my life consists of the usual stay at home duties. But now a new element - the business - has been thrown in. I have been thrust into an industry I know nothing about, working on government contracts - say what? My brain has not crunched numbers, worked a fax machine, maintained databases, worked in a business environment in over 7 years. I am a little shell-shocked. It also doesn't help that my pain issues prevent me from sitting for more than 10 minutes (more on that later). At some point a decision will have to be made. I will have to go forward with the business, giving up some of my household duties OR forgo the business and maintain my position. It is easy to give up cleaning the house, maintaining the yard and errands, BUT I can't give up time with my kids. I am already enrolling Lily in 5-day a week preschool next year, a step I did begrudgingly. They are quietly growing up on me and I am already trying to grasp at the stages they were at yesterday. Ethan will be 8 - yes, 8, at the end of this month. I don't want to miss anything, but yet, my husband needs me now, too. I pray to God for a clarity and balance - that the position I take is what God would want from me and that Jay senses it, too.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
I am, once again, sitting in bed typing on the laptop. One of God's greatest gifts to us, I think, is the gift of wireless! Just kidding. But, it does enable me to work and play - all from the comforts of my bed. Unfortunately, pain is still ruling my life these days. MRI was on Friday - results on Monday. Things were definitely worse on Saturday. One thing I have noted: Everyone seems to have a back pain/muscle pain story. That is good on one hand, but confusing. It seems this sort of pain can come from a variety of sources - bulging/herniated discs, muscle inflammation, and even tumors (I won't go there). Given that I have one bulging disc in my medical repertoire, I am inclined to go in that direction. Along with the varying back pain experiences I have been told come that many different remedies - epidurals, surgery, physical therapy, medications, steroid injections, chiropractors, Epsom salt baths, etc. I don't doubt they all work, but trying to sort it all, without a definite diagnosis, has been an exercise in futility.
On Monday, I plan on going "all in" in this poker game of medical diagnosis. If they happen to tell me there is nothing on the MRI - well, I am broke. Right now, I want them to find something want. So, finding out what it is will be like winning the lottery. I want a definitive diagnosis so at least I can focus on getting well.
On Monday, I plan on going "all in" in this poker game of medical diagnosis. If they happen to tell me there is nothing on the MRI - well, I am broke. Right now, I want them to find something want. So, finding out what it is will be like winning the lottery. I want a definitive diagnosis so at least I can focus on getting well.
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