There's thumbthing about camping

This past summer was the annual Vaeth family trek to Rocky Gap State Park - a 5-day camping trip. Our first day was filled with traveling and setting up and a late evening crab feast down by the lake. The crabs were full, the beer was cold and the glow sticks were bright (even though they did get stuck in the trees). Thursday was overcast and rainy. Bella's bike had a blow out and we decided to head to Walmart to get her a new bike as the old one was really getting too small for her.
The Walmart trip was pretty non-eventful. Bella rode her bike around the store as we shopped and Ian got lost for 15 seconds.
When we got back to camp it was raining and that put a damper on things. Suddenly, things got a little more exciting. Walter ran over to our site to let us know that Sue had a terrible accident. Sue yelled,"It's not a big deal." Walter then told us that Sue had cut off the end of her thumb and he was taking her to the hospital to have it reattached. I was a little surprised when Sue came over smiling and laughing and asking if I wanted to see it. Of course I did. I had expected her to take off her bandage to show me a thumb tip badly cut. What I wasn't expecting was her handing me a plastic baggie with ice and a paper towel in it. I was a little grossed out but eagerly took the baggie from her, opened the towel and screeched when I saw the tip of Sue's  thumb with the nail still attached right there in the paper towel. Eeew!!
Long story short, they reattached it. Call her for the gruesome details that are too much for me to repeat here.
Needless to say, the tip and thumb jokes started before she even returned from the hospital. But when she did, each time you'd ask how she was, she'd give a thumbs-up. Of course she couldn't help it considering how her thumb was wrapped - in white gauze 3x normal size - kind of cartoonish.
The next day was again uneventful as far as injuries. A bunch of us took a ride on the Cumberland Railroad on an old steam train to Frostburg. It was a cool ride. We went to the first car on the way up and stood in the vestibule and found ourselves covered in soot. Anna even had it in her belly-button. On the way back, we hung out in the vestibule of the last car. It rained again on the way home.
Saturday was finally a beautiful day, sunny and warm and we hung out at the beach. We rented a canoe and Bella, Frank and I took a trip and saw lots of turtles, ducks fish and birds. Colson had a great "Colson" day; he played volley ball, football, and hung out with the big kids, went mountain biking and got to eat more s'mores. In the evening, after dinner I started thinking about the evening's fire. I coerced the youngsters into going to fetch fire wood. I got the money for the wood out the Pilot and as I closed the door I suddenly realized my right thumb was closed in the door. Ouch is not the right word. I was speechless and couldn't breathe. Unfortunately, I also couldn't talk and I just breathed heavily as I tried not to cuss in front of the children and fell onto the ground. Sophie seemed to understand something was odd about my behavior and came over to see if I was OK. I still could not speak but she saw the blood and went to fetch ice and paper towels (very calmly I may add).
Turns out it hurt like mad but the cut was not deep and nothing seemed to be broken. I wrapped it in towels and ice while it swelled and slowly calmed down. As family members mingled from camp to camp, the news of another thumb injury spread. Of course, more jokes came. 

Sue was not at camp during my injury but when she came back she visited me and we thumbs-upped each other. And made some lame thumb injury puns. Laughter really is the best medicine. That and vodka. I did make a drink for myself. That and the ibuprofin had me feeling better in no time. 

So now it's 3 months later. Sues nail came off but the scar looks great and things seem to be healing very nicely. I lost half of my nail but it's growing back. I have a small scar too but nothing compared to Sue's. Mine would be much better had I not caught it in the mouse trap last week, but that's just just how I roll. Being injured is just a way of life.

Hopefully, our next camping trip won't be so injurious. At least no one died this time. But that's another story I'll tell later. Here is the teaser - It's best not to ignore the sound of human suffering in the woods in the middle of the night.  Someone just might end up dead.

They're not Indoor Mousers....

I was sitting in the dining room a few days back when, from the corner of my eye, I spied a mouse creep from under the refrigerator and scurry over to the cat food dishes. I jumped and yelled at it. It hightailed back under the fridge. A few minutes later, the mouse repeated his trip. I yelled and threw something at it. Again, it cowered under the fridge. I knew this method would not solve my newfound rodent problem. So I went upstairs and found Tiger sleeping on my bed. "We have a mouse in the kitchen" I told her. She looked at me through sleepy eyes, put her paw over her face to block the light I had just flicked on and went back to sleep. Apparently, she is in a union and this was her break time.

So back to the kitchen for me. I remembered we had a mouse problem two years ago and thought we may still have some traps left over. I found them and set to work baiting them. One is a nice trap that only cages them. So I set that one with a little peanut butter and put it next to the fridge. The next was a little more sophisticated. It's an enclosed spring trap, basically like to old fashioned type you see on "Tom and Jerry". I'm afraid of this kind so I picked it up very gingerly and SNAP! It closed right on my thumb - the one with no nail from when I slammed my thumb in the car door this past summer. A few swear words later I was calm enough to figure how to bait it without further injury to myself. I put in some peanut butter, set it and put it on the other side of the fridge.

As always when at war, it's best to use all the weapons in your arsenal so I also put a few glue traps under the refrigerator.  Now I felt well protected from any advancement the mice may make from their new home in the crawl space under the fridge, so i set about my day. Upon returning home, there were no mice in the traps. I have to admit I was a little disappointed. I must have really scared the poor thing when I yelled at it earlier. Either that or he was building his own army. (And to Sue and other feminists, it's a he because that makes it easier somehow for me to kill them. There's still a part of me that thinks there are adorable little mommy mice in pink calico dresses rocking mice babies in walnut shells living in the walls.)

The evening arrived with no sign of mice. We ate dinner and the kids went to bed. I was sitting quietly in the dining room on the computer when I heard a snap. Jerry heard it too because before I could even get into the kitchen, he was at the mouse trap. He had the top off and was now walking around the house with the mouse in his mouth. The mouse in the trap in his mouth! That was probably one of the funniest things I have ever seen.  I tried to help Jerry out by taking the trap away from him to let the mouse out for him to play with. (Imagine the shame he would feel if the other cats in the neighborhood knew he used traps to catch mice!) He would not let me near him though. Each time I tried, he would growl a low intimidating growl at me. Tiger tried too and was growled at. By this time, Colson was downstairs joining in the fun but he got growled at too. So, we let Jerry prance around the house for a while with his treasure until he tired of it. I carefully took the trap away and released the now dead mouse. Jerry lost interest in it very soon. Then Tiger knocked it around for a minute until I got too grossed out by it. So I picked it up with a paper towel. Of course Colson wanted to see it so I showed it to him. He remarked on how big the eyes were. I guys they pop out a little when their necks are crushed. I tried to shake off the bad feelings I had about causing so much pain to a little critter, then I thought about mouse poop in my house and I didn't feel badly anymore. So I threw it in the trash and reset the trap.

While I was sleeping later that night I heard a commotion downstairs. I went into the kitchen and found Jerry under the table with a mouse in his mouth...in a glue trap. Again, I tried to get it away and was rebuffed. But I persevered. I was afraid Jerry would get stuck in the glue too. I picked up the trap with the wriggling mouse and wasn't sure what to do with it. I was a little groggy still from having just awakened so I just pitched it in the trash thinking it would die soon enough.

I went back to bed and after another hour or two of sleep heard that distinctive snap again. This noise no longer aroused any interest from the cats so I went down to a mouse filled trap. When I went to the cabinet where my trash can is kept to dispose of the creature, I was surprised to see a live mouse scurrying around the floor of the cabinet. I slammed the door shut and panicked. How could I trap him. I couldn't just let him escape. Although I was proud of him in a way for being able to wiggle out of the glue and get out of the trash can. So I just opened the cabinet and let him run back under the fridge. 

So, I've got two confirmed kills and haven't seen any mice for a day and a half. Maybe they've found a new home. Maybe they are scheming a way around the traps. Maybe they are in peanut butter rehab learning how to avoid the lure of fresh roasted peanuts for the safer cat food. Either way, I'll be ready with my traps cause I know my two felines will be of no use. And that's the craziest part of the whole story. My yard is littered with skeletal remains of mice, moles, voles, chipmunks, snakes, rabbits (although no heads have yet been found) and squirrels. There are fresh dead things almost every day on the deck, porch or driveway. I've even had nightmares of a Poltergeist type situation where small skeletons pop out of the lawn and steal my children. 

That makes me wonder though if perhaps there is a deal my cats have made of which I am unaware. Why else would I have to trap the mice?  Why else would they wait until the mice are in the traps to play with them? Maybe there is something to that union idea. Maybe I should have adopted cats belonging to the indoor mousers union. I guess I'll never know. 

 

And I Ran...

I was working at University of Maryland this morning (with Gary Williams) on an UnderArmour commercial. I was involved in dressing some very muscular athletes and wetting them down to make them sweaty. They were jogging in place and doing push-ups to pump themselves up before each take (testosterone city!) and I began feeling very antsy. I wanted so badly to work out right then and there. Of course the cashmere sweater and wedges I was wearing prevented me from going at it right then, but I was very inspired to exercise by the time I was off work (which was only 5 hours after I went in). So I came home, checked email, facebooked for a few minutes and talk on the phone. The urge to move was still there so I got on my workout gear, dusted off my weights and did a nice 30 minute strength workout. 

It was nearing time to pick up the kids so I thought I would first walk my old running route before heading up to school. I power walked up and down the first hill and felt invigorated.  I continued walking up the second hill and as I got to a nice flat spot I began to jog. It felt pretty good so I picked up the pace a little. Before I knew it I was running. Wow, it was great to feel the pounding of my feet on the pavement, to feel the wind in my ears, to get into a rhythm of pumping arms, breathing in, breathing out, step, step, step. 

I thought I'd just go a few blocks but there was no real pain so I kept going. I continued to run past my turn around spot and kept on running. I figured I'd get to the upcoming hill and take it back to a fast walk. But at the base of the hill I still felt great so I charged it. I made it all the way to the top and then some. Then, I felt a little ache and slowed it down.  I turned around and walked back to the school. I was sweaty, tired, winded and sore and I felt terrific. 

I'm probably going to pay for that run tomorrow in aches and pains in my knee. Judging from the way it feels now I'm going to need a little ibuprofin and ice tonight. But no matter what it feels like now I feel renewed. It's been 5 months since I've been for a run. 5 long months. I'll take a few days to recover before I try again. I'll strengthen it a little more and take some bike rides. But I'm definitely running again. 

 

Thoughts on Love while Missing Frank...

Did you ever wonder why we get so lost in love stories? Is it because we wish ordinary life were so exciting? Does anyone really ever fall in love like they do in the movies? Probably not, and that is why we keep going back for more. If it ever really happened that way to us, we wouldn't need to keep watching the next one. No one wants to see their own lives rerun. 

But real life is not the same. It's better. Who has the energy anyway for the way it is when you first fall in love?  Or is it lust? Really, we think it's love at the start but that's not what love is about. Love is discovery, knowledge and trust. Those cannot be gained in hours or days. Love takes time and insight. Then the real deal happens. I think the best passion is gained only after time. Looking back upon my greatest love affair (the one I'm still in) I can see how it has only gotten better with time. When someone has seen every side of you, every emotion good and bad, and they still stand by you, that's real. When everything you do and say is a result of your consideration of your mate, that's true love. When good thing and bad happen to me, I immediately think of sharing them with Frank. I know he'll laugh or cry with me, praise me or give me an idea what I could do to make it better. And that's better than any movie I've seen or book I've read. Although, I guess I'll keep watching and reading. And still I'll know that in the end, I've got the best story out there.

Just say no to Wampler

I got a call today from Wampler and Sons.  They are a local home improvement contractor. The very polite woman was offering someone from the company to come out and give me a free estimate on our next remodeling project. Great. I have another company coming tomorrow. It would be good to get some other estimates. I was ready to set it up for sometime this week. I told her my availability and she wanted to know if my husband would be there as well. I told her he would be out of town. She thought maybe we could set it up when he returned. It seems it's company policy that both spouses be present as they give a lot of information. I guess little ol' me couldn't understand the big words and numbers the contractor might use.  I told her he would not be back until December. "OK," she said, "lets set it up for then." "Uh, no. I have others coming out this week and would like to get something done sooner." "Oh, sorry no can do." I said I'd have to use someone else and she said, "OK." and hung up. 

What? Excuse me? What year is this! I was so pissed. I tried to call back to tell her to tell Mr. Wampler and his chauvinistic sons that I do not approve of his policy nor will I ever use his company or recommend them to any one. I am quite capable of getting an estimate. I am certain I would be able to relate the necessary information to my spouse. I was so fired up I think I scared the kids a little. I did get over it quickly. Unfortunately the woman must have known I was calling back and she didn't answer the phone. Chicken Shit!   

So when I run the world... estimates can be given to a wife home alone, holding down the fort in her capable hands. Sheesh!

Rudeness on the Trail

I have recently started biking the NCR trail again after a long span of bicycle neglect.  I thought since I can't run anymore I would try dusting the cob webs off the bike and see what a little exercise felt like. It felt pretty good physically. Mentally though, it's not what I thought it would be. 

I noticed the first few times I was out how unfriendly most people are. So I decided to do a little tracking the last time I was out. I tallied how many people I passed face to face (those I passed on the way don't count as I can't see their faces) and kept track of how many smiled, nodded, waved or greeted me in some way. 

 

At first I was delighted. I got smiles, waves and hellos from the first five people I met. Then the numbers got dismal. I noticed women more than men will completely ignore the fact that another human being is in their midst. Male/female couples seemed to be the friendliest. Groups of women seemed to be the least friendly. I don't know what is in the tree branches when I pass some women but it sure must be interesting. So often, just as I am peddling near enough to make some sort of greeting, they look up in the trees. 

I went 7 miles north and was very disappointed to count less than half of my fellow cyclers and pedestrians  greeted me in some way. And by greeting I don't mean I am looking for a "Hello! How do you do?" All I really need is a nod, a small raising of the lips into a partial smile, a grunt would even suffice. We're all out there to enjoy the beauty of nature while we get a little exercise so why can't we be friendly in the process?

On one outing, I had the kids with me and I recognized a passing biker as a friend from my childhood. I called to her and we stopped, moved out of the way of passing cyclists and joggers and chatted a bit. One burly biker coming toward us stared and shook his head as if we were somehow ruining his ride. We were not in his way and on no way did we slow him down. And yet, he still thought it necessary to glare at us and pass judgement. So, of course, I yelled out as sarcastically as I could, "Sorry we ruined your ride!" My friend was mortified at my boldness. Then she related a story in which she and her friend were riding along chatting and a rider came toward them and asked if they could talk a little louder. Voices do carry at some points on the trail, but when did having a conversation while exercising become a crime? 

I could understand wanting uninterrupted exercise time if you're training for a race or if you are really hard core. But, I don't think the NCR trail is the place for that. It's a flat wooded trail friendly to walkers, joggers, bikes, strollers and horses. It's not exactly a trip trough the Tour de France route. There are tons of little kids and families, old people, young couples, people on their lunch hour getting in a walk. It's a casual place. And should be a friendly one. 

Fortunately I don't let the rude ones keep me from coming. I'll still take my 14 mile rides and soon make them 20 mile rides. I'll still take the kids out on the weekends and evenings for a ride to the ice cream shop. 

So if you see me out there, ignore the branches overhead and give me a little nod. 

I know, I know, it's been a while...

I have been very busy. Well, sort of. I did get a facebook page and that eats up a lot of my time now. So I am going to make an effort to get back in here and start blogging again. Lots of interesting things have happened to me lately so I should have quite a bit to blog about. One of which is my awesome new computer. I had gotten one too many viruses on my old PC and I just couldn't take it anymore. Not to mention, Frank has the laptop in Louisiana and I didn't have his as back up anymore. Now I have an iMac. It's fantastic. And, I can iChat with my beautiful husband. That's the best part about it. It's easier to miss him when I can see him a few times a day. So, it's good to be back in the blogsphere. I hope you enjoy what is to come.

Stay tuned.

My Fearless Children

Last week we went on our annual trip to Cape Hatteras North Carolina. Each year as the kids age we wind up doing more than just sitting on the beach and playing in the ocean. Of course, Frank still surfs and Colson spends every possible second boogie boarding or body surfing. But we have added lots of activities to our agenda: mini-golf, go-carts, half day charter fishing, ferry to Okracoke Island, Native Amercian Museum.
This year we added another one much to my fear and amazement: parasailing. Whenever we drove down to Hatteras Village we would see the parachute high up over the water and the kids seemed interested to know what it was all about. So Frank told them and immediately they both wanted to do it. Reservations were made for the following day for four people. When I counted the members of our family I realized I must have been included in that count. I began to get nervous.
You see, I am afraid of heights and I always think about what could go wrong. I have only been able to drive across bridges without white knuckles in the past few years (I used to close my eyes as a passenger - that doesn't really work when driving). So, the thought of parasailing was enough to really get me into a small panic (it was an internal panic though - I couldn't let the kids know I was scared).
So, the day of dread dawned and we were up with the sun to go fishing. We had a great time with Captain Fun except for when we were out on the ocean and Bella got sea sick. But, we ended up back in the calm sound fishing for blues and Spanish mackeral. We only got two keepers, but we had a great time. I wasn't really looking forward to the day of fishing to end because I knew soon after would be time to go up, up and hopefully not away.
So, we headed home to regroup. Frank went surfing and I took the kids to the Indian museum. We hunted for shark's teeth in the fossil pit and were eaten alive on the nature trail but had a good time all the same. When we got home, Frank was back from an awesome surf session and we started preparing to go.
We had the bathing suit/no bathing suit debate. I wore mine, Frank did not (more on that later) and off we went to the dock. We went to the desk and signed ours and the kids life's away. It's weird how we will sign a piece of paper stating that the activity we are about to do may cause death, and yet we signed anyway and hopped on the boat.
My stomach was really fluttering when the captain explained how everything worked. I tried some deep breathing which helped. I wasn't as scared as I thought I would be because I really thought I would chicken out at the last minute anyway and Frank would go twice.
So Colson and Frank got into their harnesses and life jackets. The chute was inflated. The bar was clipped to the chute. First Frank and then Colson were clipped on to the bar. They sat on the platform at the back of the boat and slowly they were lifted into the air. Smiles beamed across both of their faces as they raised higher and higher. They were only up for 15 minutes but it felt like forever. They dipped into the water and rose again. By the way, Franks choice was not the wisest - his wallet and shorts were soaked, so I'd go with a bathing suit if I were you.
When they were being reeled back in, Bella and I got into out harnesses. I thought I'd play along and get geared up. I could still back out and was pretty sure I would. Then I saw Frank and Colson's faces as they came back down. They had a blast. How could I not see what it was like?
As I stepped up onto the platform, I began my outward panic. "No , I can't," I said shaking my head. The captain wasn't having it. "You'll be fine," he said. So I took a deep breath and got hooked on and took my seat on the platform. Bella got hooked on too. I asked,"What if I change my mind?" "Just wave your arms and legs and we'll bring you back in." So, with that they let us out and very gently we rose in the air.
I was scared to death and told Bella so. She looked at me and said, "Mom, your not dead!" and smiled and waved to the folks on the boat. So I waved too. The feeling of rising into the air was very peaceful but I was still really freaked out. I was talking a mile a minute. All the while, Bella was sitting next to me swinging her feet, smiling, leaning back and generally having a great time. She looked as relaxed as if she were on a swing at the park. So I decided I needed to calm down and just enjoy the ride. And I did.
The view was amazing and the water was so clear Bella saw some rays swimming. The birds looked tiny below us just like Colson said they would. We played I Spy, Cloud Shapes and gave each other the highest high-five ever. When they dipped us in the water Bella got in up to her mouth which she got a big kick out of. It's funny how silent and peaceful the descent is. We went up again and I couldn't believe how high we were. Frank said it was about 700 feet! I still can't get over that.
Eventually our time was up and we were slowly brought back to the boat. Frank was amazed that I did it and frankly, so was I. I was proud of myself. The most interesting thing to me though was how calm and matter of fact the kids were about it. It's as though flying through the air at 700 feet is something that happens all the time. I asked Bella if she was scared and she looked at me like I was crazy.
So, I guess parasailing will become an annual Hatteras event for us. I just hope they don't find out about bungie jumping.

It seems the scope was necessary

Well, I'm one week post-op and feeling a little better today. Last night I slept with a Percoset after awakening to some good pain at 2:30. I did some heavy-duty dreaming but slept through the night (aside from Jerry and Tiger meowing here and there and Frank cursing as he got up to let them out). I'm still pretty swollen but I finally feel like I'm healing. My biggest pains are those caused by limping and not using my leg muscles properly. My calf is really cramped and my lower back feels out of whack. I guess I need to go get cracked soon to line everything back up.

I saw my surgeon today. Turns out I had a one inch tear in my articular cartilage. That is the piece of cartilage on the interior side where the femur (thigh bone) meets the patella (knee cap). No wonder it hurt. In one of my pre-op visits the doc did mention that this is a portion of the knee that is not clearly visible on the MRI. I guess that's why they didn't see anything and why I was in pain after all. The doc also said as an aside on my way out, "By the way, this wouldn't have healed on it's own". I guess he knew about my skepticism as to needing the surgery. Maybe he reads my blog?

So, I'm six weeks away from being properly healed and returning to normal activities. I'm still swollen as a result of them pumping it with fluid. This is also causing the pain in my calf and thigh muscles. I will be starting physical therapy in 2 weeks. Yippee! Bring on the stim! In the mean time, he told me to do whatever feels right. "If it hurts, don't do it," says the doc. So, I'll take it slowly. I'll take walks and bike to begin, swim a little too. I think I'll stay away from the breast stroke for a while though.

Listen to the Little Man

I have a little man inside my head. He always has good advice. I don't always listen. I am trying to learn from this. For example: The other day I had our addition plans on the kitchen table. I was looking over them with Judith. When I saw them next they were under a pile of newspapers. The little man said I should move the plans otherwise they would be recycled with the papers. Really, as soon as I looked at them he said it: "you are going to recycle those by accident and you won't have them anymore so move them." So, I moved them, but not too far I guess. And I knew that too. I knew I should have put them somewhere not in the kitchen where the mail and the newspapers get recycled every day.They must have gotten mixed up in the papers the next morning because they are now gone.

The trash guys picked up paper recycling early this morning. I slept in. When I came downstairs I didn't think anything unusual was going on. Then the man started speaking to me again. And I immediately knew the plans were gone. "The addition plans got recycled today. I told you so," he taunted. We frantically searched every where possible. I called Judith to see if she recalled seeing them anywhere other than on the kitchen table. "No," she said. I called Clay Stanbaugh to see what the reality of recovering something mistakenly thrown in the recycling. The guy almost laughed at me. "No, sorry, that would be impossible, mumble the dump mumble, have a nice day," he said.

Frank and I couldn't remember the name of the architect although we're pretty sure we saw him walking on York Road in Towson soon after we realized the plans were missing. It's been five years since we saw the guy, so maybe it wasn't him. But we did both think it was him. I remembered then that there was some info in the file cabinet about the renovation plans and lo and behold, there is a preliminary plan and a phone number of the guy. Hopefully he still has copies. I tried calling the office but was hung up on each time. Not because of anything I said but the phone would ring and the answer would be the click of the callee hanging up.

The situation is not dire, it's only ink and paper after all. But damn it, what a hassle. So, the moral of the story is: Listen to the little man. He is there for a reason. He is there to keep your life running smooth. The only problem I find is that I never know if he's really right or not unless I d0n't listen to him. Then, things always go just like he said they would. And it's usually an unfavorable outcome. And whenever I don't listen, I can't help but to feel like George Costanza. And that's never a good feeling.

There's nothing on

Sometimes I fantasize about having nothing to do. I dream of being able to watch television all day without interruption (or without having to watch Sponge Bob).  I dream of being lost in a book for hours. And then, one day I get operated on. My kids go off in search of more fun than I can offer. Bella goes to the pool with the girls. Colson goes to the Jahries. Even Judith (my amazing mother-in-law who has come to take care of me) is busy with laundry and sheets (I know, your thinking how dare I even think about complaining). 

And so I sit on the couch to watch a little TV. I flip from channel to channel watching bits and pieces of DIY shows, nanny shows, etc. I pick up a magazine and flip through. I pick up a book and read a few pages. Nothing really seems to hold my interest though. 

What I'd really like to be doing is packing for the beach or cooking an awesome veggie burger. Or maybe even sitting pool side with the kids. Or going for a hike. Or walking without limping. But instead, I'm sitting with my leg up. I spend a few listless moments on the computer. I read a few pages. I stare blankly at the TV.

I guess forced relaxation really isn't relaxing at all. I just keep thinking of other things I could be doing. I've never really been good at relaxing anyway. Ask anyone who has ever been on vacation with me. I usually cook something then clean up then pack up something then move onto the next thing. I don't often just sit. Unless it's in a nice warm tub (which I can't do until the stitches come out) and then I can sit and read all night. I don't think it's an ADD thing. I can usually give a project my full attention. But when it comes to doing nothing - forget it. I'm like a 5 year old who just ate a Fun Dip. Now I know why my sister Sue was painting her basement after shoulder surgery. Because she needed to. I can't imagine where I'd be going all day if only I could drive. Well, that's not entirely true. I would have gone to Atwater's for lunch. I would go to Home Depot Expo and start picking out bathroom accessories. I would be looking at glass tile at a tile store. 

I guess I just not the kind of person who is meant to relax. I've been doing nothing for the last few days and it's getting a little depressing. Anyone want take me to Lowes? 

Why does it still hurt?

I guess I have pretty high expectations when it comes to healing. Either that or no patience at all. I am only 48 hours post-op and already I feel as though I should be up and walking around without pain. My knee hurts and I'm still taking pain meds. Getting around the house still requires both crutches. Why am I surprised. The last time I was operated on I was healing for at least a week on the crutches. I guess the doc had me thinking that since the operation was quicker and less invasive that my recovery was going to be so much easier. And really, it's not so bad. I just am not a very good patient. I don't like not being able to do for myself. I also don't like being quite so foggy all the time. The percs help relax me, but my sleep is not sound. I wake up very itchy too. 

I guess I should just enjoy the ride. I am very fortunate to have my mother-in-law here taking wonderful care of me. I don't know what I would have done without her. In fact, she's making us a lovely breakfast right now. I would also like to take a minute to thank my friends and family who have entertained my children the last few days: Jahries', Collins' and Gorman's thanks for the sleep-overs and taking the kids here and there on what sounds like awesome adventures. 

I am currently distracted by pain so I guess it's time for another pill. Oh, I really don't know what they found during surgery as I can't recall the conversation with the doctor. But, I gather that they cleaned up some cartilage. I'll know more after I see the doc this week to get the stitches taken out. Thanks for all the good wishes and offers of help.

Glad to pay those taxes

I was driving home last night from Virginia on Interstate 95. I was listening to a little country music and thinking about what to eat for dinner. I wasn't really paying too much attention the the condition of the road. I got onto 495 with no delays (imagine that!) and continued traveling homeward. Somewhere in my brain it must have registered that the roads were not in the best of shape; that the placement and number of signs was less than adequate; that the route was not as comfy as it could be. When I crossed over into Maryland I noticed a smoothness in the road. The lanes seemed wider and better lit. I felt more comfortable. Kind of like that episode of Seinfeld when Kramer paints the lane lines making the 4 lane highway a 3 laner.
The rest of the way on 495, through 95 and into 695 I noticed the roads were in great shape. How fortunate we are to have such a pleasant driving surface. Notice I didn't say pleasant driving experience because the traffic here sucks and no amount of smooth pavement makes that any more bearable. But I think I take for granted this asset and don't really give credit to our State Highway Administration. But hey, here goes, nice job SHA! (By the way, I used to think the SHA Garage signs on the side of the road had something to do with Iran - maybe where the Shah parked his car and I could never figure out why he would park here or need so many garages - but that was a long time ago).
I've always known that our roads were superior to those in PA but I'm wondering now if our roads are superior to all state's. Are we merely sandwiched between to poorly paved states. No, I don't think so. As I ponder this, I think of my trips north to New York and traveling in New Jersey. Those roads are horrible. I'm trying to remember what it's like down south and I do think we've got a leg up on North Carolina too.
So the next time you want to complain about the taxes we pay here in Maryland, take a drive in Virgina or PA and let me know how you feel.

Exciting Things are Happening

I have a feeling this week will bring lots of exciting things for me to share with you. I will be leaving home shortly to drive down to Virginia. I am working on America's Most Wanted at the FBI Training Facility at Quantico. Should be very cool.
Also, Friday I have my surgery to see what could possibly be causing all the pain in my knee. My hope is that it's an easy fix with a quick healing process. So stay tuned people.

What water?

Okay, so if you read my comments from my last post you will know that the leaky water jugs on the shelf were the cause of the garage leak. DUH!?! (Ben is not the only idiot in this family). Dave came over to investigate the interior basement wetness. He checked up in the ceiling, along the wall and thought perhaps there could be a tiny leak in the pipe to the shower. Maybe I could see how wet it is in a few days call him back if need be. Sure, then he looked at the dehumidifier. I told him the dehumidifier was in the spot where it was wet but I wasn't sure it was the culprit or not as the carpet was not wet. Also, Frank empties it a lot and would have noticed wet carpet and if it wasn't filling up he would have noticed. But, the problem did not occur in the tank of collected water. I took out the tank and still didn't see any holes or drip or wetness on the outside of any kind. The fullness monitor was working just fine. There was however a penny size spot of water under the unit. He felt under the dehumidifier and concluded that the problem was coming from the coolers. The unit was heating up way too much and the coolers were condensing rapidly causing the drip. So, two problems solved at a fraction of what I thought it would be. I'll buy a new dehumidifier this weekend and find a new place to store "survival" water.
Of course I still have very wet carpet padding to deal with. I would really like to take up all the carpet and put down tile with an area rug on top. That way, the 6th time we have water in our basement, cleanup will be easier and less expensive.

Wet and Not So Wonderful

Water - we can't survive without it. We're made of it. We love to play in it. But damn if it just pisses me off sometimes. For example, today I finally decided to tackle the mess that is the basement. I was going along at a pretty good clip - throwing away little crappy toys and organizing the keepers. I got a little brain storm about how to make Bella's room less cluttered by bringing her play kitchen down to the basement. I went over to the space I thought appropriate to size it up. As I knelt down on the carpet to hide the Fios cable my knee and my hands felt moisture. Shit! Not again. We have replaced our basement carpeting two times already because of water. Recently an overflowing toilet upstairs sent torrents of water onto the carpet resulting in hours of wet vacuuming and steam cleaning. And now this.
So, I thought I'd try to find the source of the wetness. At first I thought perhaps the cats had reverted to their pre-litter trained days. But there was no tell-tale odor, just a musty smell. I pulled back the carpet here and there and found the wetness to be contained to a small area butting up against the laundry room and bathroom walls. Of course, it must be coming from one of those places. But the laundry room floor was dry. So was the bathroom. Even the shower which had previously been the cause of one of the floods was bone dry. Hmmm.
Well, I thought I'd better get the rest of the toys organized if I was going to have to call in an expert so I went back to straightening. I took Bella's roller skates out to the garage. My brand new iron for work was on the floor and I noticed the box was soaked. Strange! So I looked at the surrounding garage floor to see water running down toward the driveway. SHIT! This water seems to be coming from the joining of the wall and floor behind some shelving.
Because of my knee, I'm afraid to move anything heavy (especially since I hurt it this morning just bending over to pick a weed out of the garden) so I can't even move the shelves to see where it's coming from. Since this wall is the exterior of the furnace room I thought maybe there was a leak in the hot water heater. But that floor is dry too. I'm at a loss!
I'm still hoping the water inside the basement is coming from the dehumidifier. I'm conducting a little experiment with that now. But the garage one has me completely stumped.
I called my neighbor Dave for some expert advice but he's not home yet. He'll know what to do. He's fixed a few of my plumbing problems in the past and I hope he can help me with this one too.
So, if anyone has any ideas or knows a good plumber let me know. Oh, gotta go, Dave's calling. I'll let you know what happens.

The Cat Came Back

I'd be so happy if cats could talk. How amazing to be able to understand what they are thinking. And wouldn't it be nice to know where they've been? Our female cat Tiger likes to roam. Her first vacation was a week and a half. One day she left the house after breakfast and she didn't return. I didn't become concerned until after a few days. Our first cat Jerry used to disappear for days at a time. So I knew it was just in some cat's nature to go off alone.
But after a week I became very worried. I would start and end each day whistling for her from the porch and back deck. I made posters with her photo and description on them and hung them on light poles in the area. I called the shelters and was going to stop in to check and see if she was there. I had pretty much given up on her when I got a text from Frank early one morning that Tiger was back!
I was so happy I even teared up a little. I could stop having visions of her lying dead in the road or trapped in a hot garage. She seemed fine although she did have a thorn in her nose and was a little thin. The kids were overjoyed of course. So we lavished attention on her for a few days and then went back to our normal life with two cats.
Last week we noticed she wasn't showing up in the morning for breakfast. Then we went away for the weekend and there was still no sign of her when we returned. This time I didn't go into lost cast mode though. No posters, no calls to shelters. I just figured we would wait and she'd show up.
And she did. She didn't seem skinny or hurt this time. Perhaps she has found another family who takes her in. Maybe she has a male kitty stashed somewhere and they hang out in the woods together for a few days. I don't know. And that is what really drives me crazy. I ask her all the time where she's been, who she's been with and all I ever get is a little "meow".
And throughout all of this Jerry (he looks just like the first one so we just named him Jerry too) has been the loyal, trusty cat. He comes home to check-in a few times a day. He sleeps inside the house, hangs out in the yard killing things and generally seems to like it here.
Sometimes I see the two cats rub noses and I wonder what they are whispering to each other. Is she telling her brother where she's been. Or maybe she's telling him she going to head off again for a few days.
Until I become Dr. Doolittle I guess I'll just have to wonder.

Yes...I am a Redneck!

So, have you ever driven an ATV? I did this weekend and I had a blast. We hiked up to Smithsburg for Frank's 25th (yes, he is that old) high school reunion. Scott "Big Money" Phillips invited us to his sister's farm where they keep their cattle and donkeys. We thought it would be fun for the kids to see the cows again and to see the new animals too. The farm is located over winding roads with dips and hills that make the stomach flip. Good times.
We arrived as Julie's (Scott's sister ) husband Dale was bring the ATV's out of the barn. I'll admit it - I was a little hesitant at first. Did they really think I was going to drive one of these? He asked who didn't know how to drive stick and of course mine was the only hand to go up (can you say "loser'?). So it was decision time - was I going to wuss out or go figure out how to drive one of these things. I stepped up and said I'll take the automatic (I think it's good to know your limitations).
Dale gave me a brief (less than 30 seconds) lesson in TV operation and said,"Go on, git." Alright, he didn't really say those exact words, but something like it. Bella hopped on behind me and held on for dear life - which was a good thing. I started off down the gravel lane pretty slowly. But, I began to build confidence and before I knew it I was driving pretty fast. We went carefully down hills and over the pasture sure to avoid the cow patties.
Soon we found ourselves at an impasse. There was a tree down in front of us and no where to go but back. The path was narrow, but a 5- point-turn later and we were back on our way through the mud. We did get a little stuck, so I threw it in High gear and floored it. Bella was a little grossed out when the mud and poo started flinging up on us, but she didn't mind too much.
We drove up the hill and parked for a while near the cows and donkeys. Dale knows many of the cows by name. Scott and Karen Phillips and their kids own four of them and they were trying to figure out who was who. Dale came along and named each one. They treat them a little like pets (until the slaughter that is). I think I may be buying my beef from them from now on though.
Bella was loving farm life as she trekked along the pasture. Until she put her filp-flopped foot in a huge cow pie. Her foot came out but her shoe didn't. Thankfully there was a hose near-by and we got the poo out from between her toes and off her shoe.
We hopped back on the ATV's and headed back to the barn and chilled for a little while as the youngsters (Colson included ) took turns driving the Gator (a golf cart on steroids). He had the biggest smile on his face. Frank and I then raced around the farm without the kids. I had a ball going as fast as I could. I charged the big hill and whipped around curves. The downhills slowed me a little but I got more confident the more I did it.
Needless to say I had an awesome time. I'm ready to buy a farm, some livestock and some ATV"s so I can survey my land. Of course that's easy to say from my cozy office in my suburban house with a grocery store and Starbucks less than 5 minutes away. But it is something to think about.

Whip Kicks are Out

I met with Dr. Waldman to discuss my knee on Wednesday. Although I have regained the ability to bend it and my mobility has improved, he thinks scoping it would be beneficial. I still have a dull pain almost constantly and when I move in certain ways (Like throwing a fake punch) I get a shooting horrible pain which feels like someone is stabbing my knee with a screwdriver. Yet, I still wasn't sure that surgery was a sure thing. So I thought I'd do a little experiment. What if I were to go back to working out? I didn't think running would be good, but some sort of exercise to see what it would feel like. I have suspected all along that swimming the breaststroke was the culprit to my knee woes - what if I took a swim? Would it hurt and if so, there's my answer.
So I hopped in the pool yesterday and swam a quarter mile. I alternated between free-style and breast stroke. And don't you know it - that darned whip kick hurt, not bad enough to stop, but enough to let me know there is some sort of trouble in the joint. And today, I am constantly reminded of my experiment. I am even considering wearing my brace. I am also not looking forward to the drive to Smithsburg I will take tonight. Maybe I should leave these decisions to the experts. Who am I to question a world renowned surgeon? So, I'll take a little Advil and rest today.
I wonder if the scissors kick would be any better...?

The Trouble with Crayfish

Two weeks ago I took the kids to Valley View Farms to get tadpoles and snails for our garden pond. Colson and Bella both thought it would be a great idea to also have tadpoles and snails as pets. I couldn't have agreed more. What's better than a science lesson right in the house?
So, we brought the tadpoles home and went about setting up a nice home for them. The sole survivor of our winter hermit crab experiment was living in a spacious 10-gallon tank. Needless to say he got evicted and sent to live in a 2 and 1/2 gallon pirate-themed tank (left over from Bella's fish Shelby - God rest her soul). His view is better but he's certainly more cramped. I'll probably wind up getting him a 5-gallon one. I get a little claustrophobic just looking at him in there.

Back to the tadpoles - We lined the bottom of the tank with pebbles and filled it with treated water and released them. Then we cleared the corner of the counter and placed the tank there so as to be able to keep an eye on them and to ensure we wouldn't forget to feed them.

A few days ago Frank took the kids to the creek to go crayfishing. This is something we do quite often. They returned with two very large crayfish. (Prior to that we had put one small crayfish in the tank who seemed to get along just fine with the tadpoles). Frank and the kids thought it might be a good idea to put the new crustaceans in the tadpoles' home. I did not agree, but I let it happen.

I hate to say," I told you so." but....I noticed one of the tadpoles had a small tear in his tail. He seemed to be swimming along fine though, so I did nothing. The next morning I came to the kitchen and checked on them first thing. Alas, the other tadpole was struggling along with no tail. The damn crayfish ate the poor baby frog's tail! I don't really know what this means for his development. We will have to wait and see.

The crayfish were in big trouble. I immediately put them in time-out in a bucket on the deck out back. There was no way I was going to allow the tadpoles to endure further torture at the hands (claws?) of these beasts. After making sure the tadpoles were going to be all right, I fed them some yummy frozen brine shrimp (their favorite snack) and turned my attention to disciplining the naughty crayfish. It was back to the creek for them. The kids and I walked over to the rain-swollen creek and unceremoniously dumped them into the murky water. They didn't not quickly scurry or rejoice at being back in the creek. They lay where they landed for a moment or two. Perhaps they were regretting their recent behavior. Maybe they were even ready to repent. I'm not sure, but I do know I will ever be able to trust a crayfish again. So, quickly we turned our backs on them and returned home before we had a change of heart.

I guess the kids can learn a valuable lesson from this - leave nature in nature. No good can come from trying to tame a wild animal, or fish or crustacean. I'm happy to report the tadpoles seem to be recovering from their injuries. They were recently swimming vigorously as I feed them some blood worms. Hopefully they will still grow their back legs without defect. Only time will tell.

I Am Scared...

Sometimes when you see a movie you say to yourself, "Boy, I'm glad I didn't see that in the theater." Usually when one makes such a statement it is because the movie is pretty bad. This was not the case tonight: Frank and I watched "I Am Legend" (at home in our cozy den in our happy house in our pleasant neighborhood). The reason I am glad I did not see this movie in the theater is because I would have been embarrassed by my behavior had anyone other than Frank seen me. I was breathing heavily, my heart raced. I got up and walked out of the room. I closed my eyes. I hid behind a pillow (what am I 10 -I haven't done that since I watched "Jaws"). I had an upset stomach and I even talked to Will Smith. "Get back in the car, forget the dog!" and "Close the door...close the door...close the damn door Will."
Don't get me wrong, I loved this movie. I'd like to watch it again. But shit, I was really scared. The suspense nearly killed me. My stomach still hurts a little. When it was over we had to watch a little Mad TV to take the edge off. Then I was afraid to be downstairs by myself. How could Frank want to go to bed at a time like this? But here I sit in the basement. Alone. My cat Tiger is staring at me which is a little unsettling. Otherwise I am calming down somewhat. Breathing is returning to normal.
I can remember a time when I could watch "A Nightmare on Elm Street" without flinching. The "Halloween" and "Friday the 13th" movies were a breeze to watch. What the heck happened? How did I become a Nervous Nelly. Heck, I work in the damn business and I know what goes into shooting something like that. The dark seekers had to sit through hours of makeup. Some poor wardrobe assistant had to shred and sand countless pairs of pants and shirts to age the costumes. There were probably 50 people standing around on the other side of the camera eating donuts. Some PA was getting yelled at by a producer for screwing up Will Smith's Starbucks order. And yet, with that knowledge I was still very uncomfortable. Waiting....waiting...waiting for the dark seeker to come out and show his horrible self.
What happened to me? I had a life-size cut-out of Freddie Krueger in my dorm room and posters of him on my walls- right next to my bed! I slept like a champ (through classes even). I yearn for the days when I can watch a scary movie. I recently closed my eyes and plugged my ears while watching a commercial for "The Strangers". A commercial. Hello? Why? Is it because I am a mother? Is it because I am older? Does age have an affect on your scare tolerance? Or have I just watched too many Disney and other G-rated movies and I need to build up my tolerance.
Perhaps it's like alcohol: if you drink more it takes you longer to get drunk. So, if I watch more scary movies I will better tolerate the suspense, thus enjoying the film so much more.
I think I need to go back to my old ways. I lost touch with horror around the time of the "Scream" series. I could rent a few older, milder films made before the effects were more realistic, back when the hacking scenes were kind of funny. Maybe watch one a month. Slowly build up to "Saw" or "The Ring". Maybe I could even see "The Happening" in the theater. Maybe I'll go see it tomorrow. I've always been more of a cold turkey type than one to take baby steps.
Yes, I have some catching up to do. I've been on the wagon for to damn long. I think it's time for a little horror binge.

My test results are in....

Gee, all that anxiety, all that waiting... for nothing. My MRI showed nothing wrong with my knee. This may seem like good news. Not to me. You see, I need a reason why my knee hurts to bend, why it is swollen, why when I move in certain ways I get a searing pain deep inside my knee. 

It is feeling a little better today. In fact I was down to one crutch, which made carrying things so much easier. Anyway, my doctor seems to think that an MRI is just a picture. If he took a picture of me with my eyes closed, he wouldn't be able to tell what color they were. But I still have brown eyes. (Does this analogy make sense?)

 So, the next step is a shot of cortisone. The doctor left the room to prepare the shot (or so I thought). The assistant (nurse? lackey?) brought in the needle, prep pad, Band-Aid etc.  And so I waited for the doc to come back in to expertly administer the shot. And I waited. Patients were coming, being seen/treated, and released from the rooms  all around me. And still I waited. Finally the gal came back and looked startled to see me still sitting there. She eyed the needle (which had been staring at me from across the room for about 15 minutes now) and bolted. 

Soon another nice woman came in and explained that my doctor was suddenly called to surgery and his associate would be in shortly to give the injection. And as promised in walked a much taller doctor joking how he was my original doctor only that he had grown. Ha ha ha. He asked me the problem and as I answered he began to prep my knee, interrupting me as though he had never asked a question. Ah, bedside manner! The coolest part was that he took this awesome spray that shot out really cold fluid and numbed the heck out of my knee (and a portion of my shin as it trickled down). He then placed the needle in which didn't hurt at all and injected the liquid- now that felt a little uncomfortable as the cortisone spread through my knee, but then it stopped.

So, now I am to call the doctor (the shorter one) on Monday and let him know how my knee feels. If I feel better, great the cortisone worked (?). If not, he'll scope it and see what the heck is going on in there.  If the shot worked, why and what was wrong? Will I hurt it again as soon as I start working out again? I don't want a bandage on a big problem, I want the problem fixed. It's not as though I have a cortisone deficiency in my knee joint. That's the problem with medicine today. It's not really about curing. It's about making you feel better until you need to come back and have something else done. Why do doctor's get paid so much for having no idea what the heck is going on? I mean, it's kind of like a meteorologist. He'll say, "Well, it might rain." Then, " Oops, maybe tomorrow." And the doc says, "Oh, that medicine didn't work? Here try this one ( by the way, the pharmaceutical company which supplies that product just sent me and my adorable family on a trip to the Bahamas.)."  Ooh, sounding bitter or is that just the aftertaste of my pain medicine? 

You may be wondering if the the cortisone is working. I think it is a little. I have more mobility in my knee, I can bend it further than earlier today. I walked up the steps normally a few times and went down a few steps normally (although quite gingerly). The swelling is still there. I'm still walking with a limp without the brace. The good news is I may be able to drive tomorrow. It still hurts and that's the bad part. I really want to jump and get down on the floor to play with the kids or to look for that shoe I tossed under the bed. Maybe even play a little Tiger Woods Golf on the wii.  We'll see what happens and I'll keep you posted. (ha ha, get it... posted? It's a blog, and you post....)

A Visit to Dana

Today we decided it was about time we pay a visit to Dana our neighbor who was injured when run over and pinned under a car on I83. She is currently at a Manor Care facility and is the youngest resident there. What a shitty place to recover. Her roommate is an 89 year old dialysis patient. She's directly across from Physical Therapy and next to the nurse's station. It's a wonder she can get any rest at all. The food stinks and it sometimes spoiled. She went through three milk containers today before she got one that didn't have any solids. But, with all that and the fact that she is missing her two front teeth she's in pretty good spirits. She should be coming home next week which she is really looking forward to. Her left ankle is healing well and she no longer has pain in it. Her right knee and hip are healing well too but that leaves her somewhat uncomfortable still. Her finger is fractured but she's not so worried about that. Her 2 broken ribs are completely healed. Something is wrong with one of her discs but she's not sure yet and she has to finish repairing everything else before she gets to that. She seems most upset about the scars from the hip operation (runs across her lower abdomen) and the one straight up and down her belly area. She's also got a lot of burns and scrape scars on her hands arms and legs. She think she looks like a monster. I don't. She actually looks kid of cute and childish with those front teeth missing.
She remembers the initial accident which caused her to get out of her car but she does not remember getting hit or anything else for the next 5 days. She's afraid of remembering actually. She had to go to shock trauma yesterday for a check up and had a hard time just traveling on 83. I'm sure it was nerve racking. She has had bad dreams about getting hit by a car in the neighbor's driveway. That must really suck.
As for pain, she says it's not so bad and they are slowly weaning her from the Oxycontin. She's quite a trooper. She's mostly bummed about her 21st birthday coming up in October and not knowing how well she will be. I'm sure that will give her plenty of reason to work harder to recover.
So, I guess this just makes me that much more grateful that my injury is so minor. We never know how lucky we are. Accidents like this really help to put life in perspective, don't they.

Something Jen said...

My friend Jen asked me yesterday, as I was walking to the court, how I was. I answered, "miserable, frustrated and annoyed." Being on crutches, unable to drive has left me searching for rides like a teenager. I think about every trip up and down the stairs trying to maximize my efforts on each floor. I sit to cook asking the kids to bring me this and that. It's a pain in the ass.
But, her response has gotten me thinking. She answered that she could imagine how I felt being that she would be the worst disabled person. She cited how pissed off she gets if something is in her contacts and she can't see or if water gets in her ears and her hearing is muffled. I totally agree. How annoying when any of our abilities are even slightly compromised.
And then, I continued walking to the court where my neighbor Rene was washing his truck and his wife's car. And I thought, how dare I complain. You see, Rene has limited use of his right hand and his left arm was amputated from the elbow down. But there he was, smiling as always, washing away the dirt and grime as efficiently as any two-armed person. His gloved hand expertly sprayed the water while his hook guided the hose. Both limbs, prosthetic and real, scrubbing with the brush.
And earlier in the day I was speaking to my neighbor Debbie. I was asking how her daughter Dana was. You see, Dana was in an accident in May. She got out of her car to investigate the damage and was struck by a car and pinned under it. She broke lots of bones, suffered internal injuries, lost her teeth and has been in a rehab hospital since leaving shock trauma. But, she's doing great, learning to use crutches so she can some home next week.
And here I am, complaining that I have to be on crutches and can't drive. I'll most likely have a quick and easy outpatient operation, do a little physical therapy for a few weeks and be right back to my normal existence. I won't have to spend weeks in a burn unit floating between life and death like Rene. I won't have to relive the trauma of an accident in my dreams. I won't have to relearn to walk. I won't have to learn to use a prosthetic limb.
So thank you Jen for making me take a look at how good I really have it in this world. I can't imagine what Rene and Dana have been through nor do I really want to - it's too hard, but I can appreciate how far they've come, how far they have to go. And maybe I'll be a little less miserable, frustrated and annoyed from now on.

Telephone Answering Systems

I have lately injured my knee and am on crutches, in a brace and on a bad day in enough pain to warrant a Percocet (or two or three). Through this process I have had to call the orthopedist's office a few times. Of course, you expect an answering service to field the "How do I get to the office?" and "What are your hours?" questions. But, once you get past that and onto the line of the secretary for the doctor, you would like a person to answer. Instead, I have been thanked for my patience and told how someone will be with me soon or will get to my call in the order in which it was received. Now I know how busy a doctor's office can be and I want the person answering the phone to take their time with each patient. But if you call 4 times in one day and each time are instantly on hold after pressing 3 for Dr. X then automatically asked to leave a message after a few minutes, what is the point of the holding in the first place? The same thing happened to me when I called the insurance company to see if I needed approval for the MRI which of course I didn't and I knew that and if the secretary had listened to me on the day of my initial appointment I wouldn't have had to go through any of this aggravation!!! AGGHHH!
Sorry, calming down. Anyway, if they don't have time to answer the phone, just send me right to voice mail. Although, this isn't the best outcome either considering I left a few messages and no one called me back. So, I went for the press "0" or stay on the line option and got a very nice person who tried to pry the other call out of Dr. X's secretary's hands to help me, then just helped me herself. All I wanted to do was schedule an MRI. It's not like I wanted a prescription written without being seen (although I am running low on those Percocets) or a diagnosis over the phone. Alas, I was scheduled and I had my MRI, which was very pleasant by the way. In fact, I was so relaxed I fell asleep for about 20 of the 40 minutes it took to scan my knee.
So, my point today is, when I rule the world people will answer phones. There will be ample staff at doctor's offices, insurance companies and customer service centers. Even if the person answering the phone can't really help but can take a real message that will be given to a real person. And perhaps there will be an emplyee whose only job is to call back people who have left messages so customers and patients will think someone actually gives a hoot about them. Well, I guess I'll have to wait patiently on hold for a while until I am crowned queen of the world. Have a nice day.