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.