Monday, May 12, 2008

Angela and Jennifer - you disappoint me. Second grade. Mrs. Sheffield's class. I actually saw her getting her mail the other day. She still lives on Chestnut - and she looked exactly the same. How can that be? I mean, it has been 30 years!

Popcorn
Pop, pop, popSays the popcorn in the pan.
Pop, pop, popYou may catch me if you can.
Pop, pop, popAs they scamper across the heat.
Pop, pop, popThey are very good to eat!
Pop, pop, popGoes the popcorn in the pan
Pop pop popTry to catch me if you can
Pop pop popGo my kernels bright and yellow
Pop pop popI'm a happy little fellow
pop pop pop pop pop pop pop

Pop, pop, pop goes the popcorn in the pan...

Anyone care to guess where that line comes from? I know only TWO readers of my blog who can probably name that line and when it was introduced to my brain. Will one of them dare come out of hiding and comment?


This afternoon, I came out of my bedroom to this jumbled up sound:
pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-POP combined with lots of giggles and laughter. I walked into the kitchen to see my three children jumping around on 2x4 sheets of bubble wrap - all courtesy of the shipping department (i.e. Jay in our garage) of RaRa Telecom Supply. How much fun they were having with something so simple. I couldn't resist either and I walked over and did a quick jump. I know, what was I thinking with my back. Oh well, it was fun while the one jump lasted!


Jay decided to load up the kids tonight for a quick trip to Family Video. The kids had already gone to car, Jay said goodbye to me (or rather goodnight because I had just taken my nighttime meds) and I settled in for some rarely heard in our house silence. Just a few seconds later, I heard the front door squeak open and crying quickly filled the house again. Jay came in with Lily and said, "Lily peed in her pants and lied about it to me. She told me it was water. She doesn't get to go with us." Boy, she was really upset. But, it was a just punishment. It wasn't a complete pee - just the, "I waited a little too long and dribbled before I got to the potty" pee. We all know what I am talking about. But the smell was unmistakable. I have to give her some props for coming up with such a creative and yet plausible lie - water. So, Jay helped me get her into a pull-up (she still wears them at night) and I sent her to her bed to "think about it." A multitude of sobs, many pitifully said sorry's and enough crocodile tears to last the rest of the month went by and I told her she could come downstairs, but had to bring a book with her. She walked into my room with the BIGGEST pouty bottom lip. I think I could have used it as my nightstand. Seriously, I had to turn away because I couldn't contain my smile or laughter. It was the most pitiful little pout and one that I recognized in a few of my 3-4 year-old pictures. I got my obligatory "I am sorry Mommy, I will tell the truth, I won't pee-pee in my pants" acknowledgement. She hoped into the bed and we read Chicka Chicka Boom Boom - her new favorite little story.

This brings me to another point. We have this great book called, "2oth Century Children's American Classics." Actually, I shouldn't put that into quotes as I am not sure that is the correct title. Ordered it from Amazon and it is a fantastic collection of all the greatest children's books. Even Ethan will still pull it from the shelf. It has Amelia Bedelia, Curious George, Madeline, some Golden Books, Francis, even Goodnight Moon - all the great books from our generation as well as new ones like Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. It is a great gift idea - although now that I think about it, I have never given it as a gift. Probably because I am usually don't plan far enough ahead to order it, or even more accurately leave my house early to run by Target (buying tissue and a bag too) to grab something quick or a gift card on the way to the party. Sound familiar? Even though no one took me up on my last attempt to get comments, I will offer this question - what have been your favorite books to read to your kids, what have been their favorites (read obsession), or what did you love as a child?

On the back front - get it - update on the back? Jay got on the horn yesterday and begged the Neurologist to see me. They worked me in that day - he could sell reading glasses to a blind man. This was an appointment originally scheduled for the 13th. The verdict is that I need to get into the neurosurgeon sooner than the 22nd. They also upped my pain meds - whoo hoo and added in a med for nerve pain. I have lost the reflex in the bottom of my right heel and won't get it back. It is not a big deal, according to this doc as I don't really need it anyway. O - kay. A little strange, but, ok. I saw the MRI - they said it was "acute", "that I really know how to do it right", "a pretty nasty situation." There is disc fragment pressing on the S1 root which will need to be removed.

They called this morning to tell me they were unsuccessful in getting me in the neurosurgeon's any sooner than the 22nd. HOWEVER, the nurse I saw called me a couple of hours later to tell me that a PA from the neurosurgeon's office happened to come by and the doc presented my case. I was told that he also felt that I needed to be seen sooner and was going to try to get me in. I haven't heard anything yet, but hope to on Monday. All in all, I would say that the prayers are working. Thank you!

So, why am I not asleep after taking all my meds tonight? Because I am also taking Prednisone which counters all the sleepy side effects of oxycodone and jazzes me up like I am on crack. (like I know what it is like to be on crack) Basically, it just means I get to take one of my lower level oxycodones in just an hour. Thanks for reading my babble. Night y'all!

No whining - just an update

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.

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?

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?!?!?!

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.

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.