Year III.5

I feel like this year is like a bad Windows version. Some years are just like that. A new version comes out and you wonder, have they worked out the glitches yet? I prefer not to get the updates right away. Take time, let someone else figure out the holes in the plan. But you can't do that with the time continuum now, can you? The system breaks down, one that was working perfectly fine before the update, and now you've got to add/delete programs and reboot.

Everyone is still healthy. I'm still employed, although a minor glitch there is that we've been through a lot of transition and I'm working too much. We are moving toward balance again and I hope to achieve it before Christmas. The kids are all in school and liking most of it. The dog is healthy and happy. The glitch is Paul's job. Back in April, they moved his entire department to the company they had bought out, eliminating his position. He had the opportunity to apply for jobs within the company and found one in underwriting the day before the deadline. He's worked in underwriting before and it wasn't his favorite, but he figured it was do-able.

He's been at it for four months, and by month three we knew that this was not going to be a long term solution, as he was not happy and having much more difficulty with the job than he had anticipated. So he put a few feelers out, but couldn't move on them due to constraints within the company. Long story short, they gave him a written warning, then let him go before he had a chance to fulfill the goals on the warning. He's been there successfully for over 14 years, so we really didn't expect an abrupt end. Can anyone say, "System Down"?

For those of you who are the worrying type, you can all chill out, we are financially stable and will do just fine on my high paying social work job. We are very thankful for that.

But we are definitely regrouping. This would be the phase with the computer when you try to figure out how much you've lost, and remember that you didn't back up any of the stuff you meant to. For instance, I'm not so worried about the financial part, because that didn't get eaten up in the crash, but I wish we had a way to stick with our same health care plan, because it is such a pain to find new doctors and dentists and start all over. That component got fried. Bleah. And Paul needs to figure out what to do. Definitely a regrouping going on there. Does he try to find another job within the company? Branch out? Find the color of his parachute and start another career?

The good news is that, when stuff like this happens, I feel like I've got the best computer guru in the world on my side. He doesn't gripe at me for how dusty my computer is inside. He doesn't freak because I don't back up my data like I'm supposed to. He's there with his can of air and his pocket protector and tool kit, pointing out the problem areas and suggesting cool and spiffy new programs that will make things better once we get this all back together. We've had so many "glitches" before and they always turn out okay. Different than we had planned, but just fine.

We're still in the repair phase, identifying lost data, and looking into spiffy new programs. I'll let you know when it's time to reboot.

Happy Father's Day

It has been some time since I last blogged - October, according to my records. I think the main barrier has been that the kids had homework, so they needed the computer, then when they were done, they would want to chill in front of the t.v. (in the same room as the computer) and I can't stand the noise. So fine, be that way. I decided to get my own computer. I am totally thrilled about this, because I've been having to go in to work from time to time to finish up paperwork, but when I walk in the door people see me and want to talk. My co-workers are the worst - "Sorry, I know you're here to do paperwork, but I just wanted to ask you one question about ..." Dah! So one hour of paperwork turns into 2 hours of baloney and I end up really frustrated. This way, I log in from home, do my thing, log out and I'm all good. Much better!

The big news today is the phone call at 8 a.m. from my sister. On a Sunday, so I figured something was up. She starts with, "I'm just calling with an update. Everyone is fine." Okay, so then what is going on? I'm figuring there is drama between her and her husband or something. Then she starts to fall apart - I can hear it in her voice - and she says that Dad is in the hospital and it looks like he may have had a mild heart attack. It sounds like they went for a bike ride yesterday and he didn't feel well afterward. So he rested and had some water and went home. The pain didn't subside, but he went to bed (cool - in hindsight, I am screaming HOLY CRAP! He's waiting to go to the hospital with CHEST PAIN!) He said he felt fine all night - got up a couple of times to go to the bathroom and was okay, but only felt okay for about 15 minutes once he got up in the morning. So he calls Talley (again, brilliant - why are we not calling 911?) and tells her she should probably come and bring him to the hospital. So she does. And my mom went to church.

They get Dad into a room right away and give him a nitro, which makes his blood pressure drop dangerously low. "The nurse didn't like that too much" he says. I bet. They run an EKG. The doctor comes in and reads it, which indicates that nitro is the worst thing for him and they put him on beta blockers instead. He immediately feels relief.

Nearly four hours pass and I haven't heard anything from anyone. The last I know was right after Dad tanked with the nitro and Mom is walking to church. I start getting antsy and try to call Talley. She's in the dead zone at the hospital, but I try anyway. Then I call Mom and Dad's house. No answer. Is she safe to walk to church? I figure she's probably walked to Chanhassen by now. I call the hospital and they tell me Dad has been admitted and they give me a room number. I relax a bit and decide to wait because I know they'll call when they can. Five minutes later, Talley calls and says that Mom is at the hospital with Dad and she's gone home for a break.

It sounds like the Dr. is asking the right questions. He identifies sleep problems and decides to monitor his sleep tonight. He listens to our concerns regarding his unregulated blood pressure meds. He says they will do an angiogram when the time is right. I talk to Dad and he says he's feeling "Pretty good." I lay into him: So help me, you need to be straight-up about your pain level because you MINIMIZE and that's going to get you into trouble. Understand? "I'm trying to be good," he says. And I think of all the times he yelled at me when he was actually terrified and I want to laugh. "Thank you, Dad," I say. "I love you," he says. Somehow it means more today. "I love you too. I'll call again later."

I call later and Dad has perked up. He tells me his side of the story. It sounds like he didn't go in any sooner because he kept thinking it was his blood pressure meds being all wacky. Still. Geez. It sounds like they took him off his beta blockers about a week ago and it could be that that was what triggered the attack. He mentions that he feels pretty anxious. I'm just glad he's there and getting it addressed. The alternative to not being there is grim.

Later, like right this minute, I realize that no one else knows. What about his sister? What about my cousin? What about the neighbors? Did anyone call? Do I call? Hmm. I'll have to think about it. Meanwhile, I'm thankful to have a father on father's day.

Fracture

Let's just say we're rethinking our involvement in Mixed Martial Arts. At least I am. First, there was the incident with my knee (pop!pop!pop!), for which I accept at least half the blame. Then the other day, the group was doing "no contact or light contact sparring" without gear during the last five minutes of class. Stephen's hand met his partner's foot at just the right point of contact to cause a "boxer's fracture". Hmm. Is this just part of the sport or is there something wrong with this picture?

Stephen was an absolute trooper. He continued the exercise, just keeping his injured hand pulled back. He sat through the announcements and dismissal. He calmly asked the instructor if he had any ice and was given an ice pack. Then, as we were leaving, he looked at me and quietly said, "As soon as we get to the car, I'm crying my eyes out." He got in the car, curled up in a little ball, held his arm, and wept.

When we got home, I took a better look at it and did some quick triage on the internet. It was pretty clear that he needed to be seen so that an x-ray could be taken. So we left for the ER and underwent the obligatory sign in, triage, billing/HIPPA paperwork, waiting, watching other sick people and families, and finally being brought back to an exam area. There was an ornery, pitiful, toothless old guy on the other side of the curtain that had been there for three hours waiting for a room. He asked for food and they brought him a sandwich, which he couldn't chew. Then they brought him soup, which was evidently "stale and lukewarm". He asked for a phone so he could talk to his family, then complained about the wait and the food, and asked his family why they weren't speaking to one another, saying that if they weren't going to tell him, he might as well just die. Oh, brother. Shortly after that, they took him to his own room. Thanks be to the Almighty God of Room Vacancies.

The doctor came in with the x-rays and sat down to talk to us. Shortly after she arrived, before she had shown us the x-rays, a nurse delivered a cart to our area. Ah, the cart. That means we are going to DO SOMETHING. Sure enough, it was a fracture, so she explained that she would give him a shot of novocaine, manipulate the bone back into place, splint it, and set us up with an orthopedic doctor. Stephen has a thing about shots, so we had to talk him down off the rafters to get that over with, allowing him to inflict puncture wounds onto my hand while he squeezed it during the procedure. Then the bone was back in place, and we came home by about midnight.

So, yeah, I'm thinking about our involvement in Martial Arts. My primary concern is that, at this school, we have been allowed to make contact with one another as beginners. This is super-fun and has it's benefits. But do the benefits outweigh the now-obvious costs? Are injuries to be expected in this sport or could they be avoided if we waited until a higher belt level before making contact? Stephen just got his yellow belt, worked really hard to get there, and wants to stay. I understand that, but my "mom instinct" is seriously aroused. I found myself angry, frustrated, and frankly wanting a victim. RAHR!!! DON'T MESS WITH THE MOM!!! So maybe after I calm down a little bit I'll have a conversation with our instructor. Just give me a little time.

That Small Town Feel

Lately I've been noticing how the community we live in has a real small-town feel to it. The structures in the downtown area have sort of a Mayberry feel to them. There is a drug store/soda fountain, a classic old courthouse with gigantic cedars, an old stone church building which is now a center for the Arts, and an old theatre which was recently renovated. There are also newer buildings and businesses (yes, there is a Starbucks and a McDonald's within walking distance). But it's not just the setting, it's the people.

I spend a lot of time in the downtown area. My job is there, I visit people in jail or go to court to support my clients, I volunteer with youth every week, my kids play games at the local gaming store, there are good restaurants and cafes, our doctor's offices are there, and I go to the Saturday Farmers Market whenever I can. So I know the coffee guy at one place because he volunteers at the same place I do and works his "real job" next door to my office. And the woman who sells Haralson apples at the Farmer's Market lives a stone's throw from the grocery store. And the people who took over the gaming store let me write a check when they first opened because they recognized me as a regular. There is a drink at the soda fountain named for one of the youth I work with.

Living and working in the same community presents certain challenges that I hadn't had to think about before. I see my clients everywhere. At the grocery store, at my church, at the library, when I'm having coffee with a friend or dropping my kids off somewhere. I go to the same clinic as two of my clients. I drive along the road and see homeless people I know nearly every time I'm out. This means I need to make a conscious effort to "unplug", not stopping to talk to people I know and care about or haven't seen in some time, leaving it for the guy who is doing the Outreach job now. It means sitting away from the window so I won't be seen when I'm off the clock. It means my life is not as private as I would sometimes prefer it to be.

But it also means I'm CONNECTED, and there is something very cool about that. I know the people that are raising my vegetables and fruit, fixing my broken jewelry, sharpening my knives, making my coffee, baking my bread, hosting my children. It is good. It is home.

Rain = Christmas?

It has started to rain again. Just a few days, then sunshine, then some more rain. Not the solid gray mist that settles in later in the season. But rain. I absolutely love it. I want to open the windows and listen to it. I want to be alone in my room so I can hear it on the roof. I want to wear polar fleece and rain gear and walk in it. The kids love it too, but for different reasons. They want to build a fire in the fireplace, make cookies, play board games and make their Christmas List. Wait a minute - make their Christmas List? What is that all about? And then I realized. Rain signals the beginning of the new season. Here the only difference between fall and winter is colder rain. We don't really get a crisp, dry fall with glorious color. The trees change, then drop their leaves, but it has already started to rain by then and there is no fun in making a pile of leaves and jumping in it unless you just want to get wet and muddy. We rake the leaves into the street in December and a big vacuum machine comes by to suck them up. So the rain really signals the beginning of winter weather, and the kids have acclimated to that fact. We still love snow, deep down, and will never lose that. But this year, Rain = Christmas.

Post knee surgery update

This week I am celebrating 5 weeks post op. No doing the jig in celebration, but definitely a milestone.

Surgery itself: I was in pre-op when the anesthesiologist came in and said, "You want to go to sleep?" And I said, "Not really, I'd rather stay awake." And he perked up and said, "Really?" And I was like, "I have an option?" and he said he'd check into whether or not we could "do a spinal". So I can hear him while he checks with the surgeon and asks how long it will take and whether or not a spinal will be sufficient and he says, "Yeah, she's all gung-ho!" So he comes back and he's all smiles because he gets to do a spinal on me. Woo. So I was awake for the procedure, which was very cool because I could see a little of what they were doing through the reflection in the big surgery lights, ask questions about what was going on around me, and participate in the banter re: the Olympics. They said I might not remember anything because I was given a relaxing medication, but I remember all of it.

Week 1: In bed 24/7 with my new enemy THE MACHINE. I hated that thing. I had to be on my back even while sleeping, which is not natural for me. I finally got permission to sleep on my side just 2 hours per night when I needed it. That worked pretty well, except one night I never woke up to my alarm and slept way too long so that spooked me and I only used this freedom when I really needed it. I only took two pain pills, which made me puke my guts out, so I got permission not to take those either. That left me with The Machine, Tylenol, Aleve, a lovely white pressure stocking, and my new friend, Mr. Cryo-Cuff, which pumps ice water around the affected area. Nice.

The kids and Paul were supposed to wait on me at all times. I only had permission to get up and use the bathroom and eat dinner. They were amazing about this with only one glitch in the middle of the first night where I needed some food to settle my stomach and no one heard me ringing the bell. "Helllooooo!?" From then on, I had crackers by the bed all the time. Watched t.v. and played games with the kids when they wanted to, which I found amusing.

Week 2: Checked in with Dr., who really liked his fancy suture work. Felt dizzy for about two days from being upright again. Went to physical therapy to check in and get mobility measured. Drove myself in the van, which PT found a little nuts. Walked Stephen to the pool and realized it was too far. Fortunately, Paul was on his way home and came to get us in the car when we were done. Got permission to go to work the next day. Went to work but needed about 15 minutes just to pull myself together after getting ready all morning and walking two house lengths to my office door. Once there, did fine, but exhausted when I got home. Worked two days and then had three days off during which I was really good to myself.

Week 3: Felt great on Monday, so walked to the courthouse from work for a meeting there. (Really no other option - by the time I would have walked to my car, found a parking space near the courthouse and walked in there, it would have been the same.) Didn't think I could get Mr. Cryo-Cuff past security so I left it at the office. Once at the courthouse, realized I did not have any Tylenol with me. Sat down for the meeting and proceeded to feel my leg lock up and begin throbbing. Knew for a fact that I was in trouble and still had to walk back. Walked back, feeling like a chisel was being systematically hammered under my patella with every step. This was the first time I had actually felt pain since surgery. And it lasted all week long. I thought I was going to have to go back into surgery to fix whatever it was that I had screwed up, but was assured that I had just overdone it, needed rest and ice, and all would be well. Didn't believe them at all. Over the weekend, rested, iced, put the white sock back on, and used crutches for distance walking. Felt bored stiff but significantly better.

Week 4: Walked to the courthouse again, this time with no ill effects. Paul said I had looked "drawn" when arriving home from work last week so I agreed to cut back on some meetings I had in the evenings that week. Felt absolutely fine and probably could have done them, but no way to know this ahead of time.

Week 5: Beginning to feel functional again. Able to walk upstairs using both legs, and sometimes downstairs as well. This is a really big deal! Woo! Stephen is getting his Yellow Belt without me. Bummer.

So there's the summary. From here on out, I should just be getting stronger and better, so I'm thinking you won't have to hear about it any more unless something really huge happens. Like I break a record for recovery time and get to ski by Christmas. I can always hope!

Bad day at work

Ugh. Today was not a good day. On my way in to work I got a phone call from my boss's boss, who had come upon a costly mistake of mine. I had noticed the mistake about a month ago and have taken measures to make sure that it never happens again, but nonetheless, it was costly and I am responsible. I find I do not like making mistakes, as they make me feel stupid. Like I should have known. The truth is, maybe I should have known, but I waited too long or put it on the bottom of my to-do list, or assigned it less value than it really needed and didn't do it. So my butt is in the proverbial sling. It is not a comfortable place to be. My immediate boss was very supportive in light of the situation, and when I informed other staff members that I had learned a valuable lesson, we had a spontaneous brainstorming session so that we ensure everyone is trained properly and other measures are in place to ensure it never happens to anyone else. So, I felt supported but still nerve-wracked. Being a rather classic first-born, I want to do things well. Being this particular first-born, not only do I want to do things well, and right, and not get in trouble, I also want to be the BEST at what I do. So I hate falling short, even if there are good reasons for doing so. Or not such good reasons. Blea.

So I went through the day feeling rather ill. Then, at the end of the day, one of my clients had a serious crisis that needed to be dealt with immediately. This was sad, and frustrating and unsettling all at the same time. For now, the crisis is averted, but I know for a fact that we are only beginning our journey with this one. Sigh.

When I got home, I was feeling beat down and frankly spent. I had no extra energy to let children bend the rules or cut one another down and called them to the carpet on every infraction. William said I was crabby. When I apologized and told him I'd had a tough day at work he said, "Well, that doesn't mean you can take out on the family," which is what I tell him when he says he's had a bad day at school. Thanks for the advice, buddy. I'll work on that...