At 67 years old, I'm contemplating, with a bit of trepidation, another first day of school. How silly is that? Now, don't get me wrong, it's not the heart pounding, palm sweating, who will notice I'm too fat, thin, tall, short, with a big zit, and bad hair type of anxiety common to 12 year old girls starting middle school (or in my case, junior high). However, I am surprised I feel even mild anxiety.
For anyone who doesn't know, I've enrolled in a class at baby college (aka Glendale Community College). The class I'm starting next week is Art History: Renaissance to Contemporary Art. It's going to be a wonderful class I've wanted to take for a long time. This is a dream opportunity for someone who never met a museum she didn't like. At least that's my expectation until proven wrong. There are 30 people in the class, and my hope is I'll be the only old fogy.
A primary goal for taking this class is to become acquainted with some people who are in their late teens or early 20's. That's a real uphill battle. People who are just ten years old than me say they are 'invisible' to younger people. So, my real concern is not really about the first day as much as it is about trying to bridge the age gap I'm expecting.
Isn't it interesting even with my six plus decades of life experiences, I'm still anxious about putting myself in a new situation? Yes, this will be my 20th 'first day of school', but those four words still evoke a sense of 'will I be liked and where will I fit in' this group. It doesn't matter how old we are; we are still influenced by social hierarchy. (This is a theory proposed by the anthropologist, Elman Service - you can look it up.) In tribal/social hierarchy, people rank themselves in comparison to others. We also somewhat inaccurately compare ourselves to chickens by referring to 'a pecking order' within a group. Or, in high school we talk about the cool kids, the jocks, the goths, the band kids, the nerds, and the druggies. Then, there are sub-set orders of importance inside the various 'tribes'. This ranking system carries over to every aspect of our lives.
This drive to 'fit in' or to 'stand out' is a constant push/pull for me. I have trouble conforming to norms, but at the same time, I'm also aware of being molded during my childhood to live a certain type of life. In parts of my life, I've played out those parental/social expectations: I married too young. I stayed home with a child. My main work was in a 'traditional' woman's career.
Outside of the norms, we were married fifteen years before we ever had a child. We postponed childbirth to an advanced age. We had an only child when multiple children were preferable. I blazed a path in the business world in the 1970's, but then chose to stay home when doing so marked you as 'less than' in the eyes of other women. Choosing to teach fulfilled my parents' expectation of the 'right' life for me, but the kids I taught went against that norm. We lived the traditional life for twenty five years, then all of a sudden, we downsized to a storage unit and started the vagabond lifestyle.
Now, I'm going against the norm again by enrolling in a college class. There are lots of silly short terms classes of a few weeks designed for seniors most of which make me want to roll my eyes. I got another friend interested in the idea of taking a college class, but she's concerned about having to take the tests and write papers. I laughed. During in my prior adult schooling, those activities were always the fun part. Then, I reconsidered. Some of my anxiety is based on can I compete intellectually with the younger set.
Then, there's the hassle of being somewhere twice every week, at a fixed time. For the retired, leaving the working world means leaving the time clock behind. The element of having to go to class seems to curtail one of the illusions of time freedom retired people cherish. In reality, the retired quickly fill up their calendars with places or commitments to which they have to appear at fixed times.
Ultimately, this class falls into the category of nothing ventured, nothing gained. Yes, I'm anxious about a new situation. However, I'm bored in Snooze City, but if I do nothing to change my patterns then I deserve to be bored. This is a big pattern changer. Choosing to take a real college class, attempting to connect with people over forty years younger than myself, and learning new things certainly gets me out of the Sun City dynamic. I think this class is going to be a good thing but stepping up to it is still a risk.
P.S. In an effort to ease the anxiety I can fix, I already went over to the campus to find my classroom and know where to park. Now, if I could just figure out what to wear the first day...
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Saturday, December 30, 2017
The Caribbean post Hurricanes
The past July we decided to shake up our normal holiday routine of gathering in Austin and planned a Caribbean cruise for all of us. Of course, the plan was prior to the two Cat 5 hurricanes which roared through the Caribbean and flattened all three of our destination islands: Grand Turk, Puerto Rico and St. Thomas. Having paid our money, we had little choice but to trust the cruise line not to drop us off in a place which shouldn't be entertaining visitors.
The reality turned out to be the residents of all these three islands were pathetically grateful to see us tourists in their midst. Tourism is the economic mainstay of the Caribbean. It was obvious the priority for clean up and restoration has been concentrated in the places which are 'attractions' for the tourists. Old San Juan (the oldest part of Puerto Rico) and the spot when the cruise ships anchor, seemed completely unaffected. That is, until you started talking to people. I didn't talk to a single local who hadn't sustained some type of damage to their home or business, and you know me - I talked to everybody!
Grand Turk, famous only for its snorkeling and beaches, is very tiny. It's only seven miles in length and a couple of miles in width. We rented a car, and it allowed us to tour the entire island since I wanted to see the lighthouse, the museum, and a couple of churches. It was here we really saw the depth of the damage even months later. The lighthouse still looked pretty
battered. The museum was closed for water damage, and the churches were tightly shut.
Every roof was either new, partially new, or still tarped in blue plastic. Windows were missing. There was still a lot of water damage from storm surge. There were no street signs as well as missing or weirdly tilted stop signs. I learned most of the island had been without power for about three months, so that restoration has accelerated the repairs. Almost every electrical pole was brand new. The local 'home depot' was absolutely roaring with business. There was a traffic jam of cars and trucks around it. The constant refrain of the island was power tools.
As an aside, the other thing which makes Grand Turk 'famous' is this is the area where John Glenn's Mercury capsule splashed down in 1962 after he circled the earth three times. The capsule is an actual display in a small park. Right before we left, we watched the movie "The Right Stuff" in which the seven astronauts argued with the tech staff for a 'window' to be part of the capsule design. Here's the infamous window.
Of the three islands, San Juan, Puerto Rico, was my favorite stop. The tourist part of the town is utterly charming. The old part of the city is built around a series of plazas, and is encircled with a twenty foot thick wall which dates back to the 17th century.
Speaking of Ponce de Leon, the famous Spanish conquistador, is supposedly buried at the San Juan Cathedral. This is a massive Catholic church constructed in the style of the great cathedrals of Europe, but instead of marble and stone, it's constructed of adobe and wood. An advantage of seeing this church in December was it was beautifully decorated for Christmas.
Perhaps the most obvious damage in the tourist areas from the hurricanes was on St. Thomas. We took an open air touring vehicle up to the top of the island to take in the overlook view. Most of the 'resorts' including a massive Marriott resort are still not open. The Marriott property sits right on a promontory overlooking the beach. It was battered.
Normally, we could have taken the gondola to the mountain top, but the snapped cables were still not repaired. When we arrived on top of the island, we were rewarded with this stunning view. We also saw this:
Here's the hurricanes' handiwork: a rolled up cell tower. Its replacement is just behind it. Our driver lost his entire home. He spent eight hours holding a door in place to save the lives of himself and his family. He was sporting a cast on one arm, not because he broke it, but because he strained the ligaments in his hand, thumb, and lower arm. Fortunately, he had insurance on his vehicle and his home. Want to live on St. Thomas? The taxes are low, but the cost of real estate is high (limited landmass). The cost of home insurance is sky high. According to the driver, his home insurance runs about $15,000 a year. Worth every penny to him now since it will fund his re-built. It was brutally apparent as always in these natural disasters the poorest people who live precariously are the hardest hit.
Our Holland America ship was brand new. It was exquisitely decorated for Christmas. I couldn't have taken pictures of all of the decorations since they were so numerous. The one which really caught my eye was the gingerbread houses/villages scattered throughout the main areas. Here's a sample of those.
The reality turned out to be the residents of all these three islands were pathetically grateful to see us tourists in their midst. Tourism is the economic mainstay of the Caribbean. It was obvious the priority for clean up and restoration has been concentrated in the places which are 'attractions' for the tourists. Old San Juan (the oldest part of Puerto Rico) and the spot when the cruise ships anchor, seemed completely unaffected. That is, until you started talking to people. I didn't talk to a single local who hadn't sustained some type of damage to their home or business, and you know me - I talked to everybody!
Grand Turk, famous only for its snorkeling and beaches, is very tiny. It's only seven miles in length and a couple of miles in width. We rented a car, and it allowed us to tour the entire island since I wanted to see the lighthouse, the museum, and a couple of churches. It was here we really saw the depth of the damage even months later. The lighthouse still looked pretty
Every roof was either new, partially new, or still tarped in blue plastic. Windows were missing. There was still a lot of water damage from storm surge. There were no street signs as well as missing or weirdly tilted stop signs. I learned most of the island had been without power for about three months, so that restoration has accelerated the repairs. Almost every electrical pole was brand new. The local 'home depot' was absolutely roaring with business. There was a traffic jam of cars and trucks around it. The constant refrain of the island was power tools.
As an aside, the other thing which makes Grand Turk 'famous' is this is the area where John Glenn's Mercury capsule splashed down in 1962 after he circled the earth three times. The capsule is an actual display in a small park. Right before we left, we watched the movie "The Right Stuff" in which the seven astronauts argued with the tech staff for a 'window' to be part of the capsule design. Here's the infamous window.
Of the three islands, San Juan, Puerto Rico, was my favorite stop. The tourist part of the town is utterly charming. The old part of the city is built around a series of plazas, and is encircled with a twenty foot thick wall which dates back to the 17th century.
San Felipe del Morro, a defensive fort also originally built in the 17th century, was destroyed by the 1789 hurricane and rebuilt. Cat 5 hurricanes are well known in this part of the world. El Morro is now part of the United States National Park system, and it's massive and impressive.
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| Here's 'El Morro' as we are coming into the San Juan Harbor |
To me, the 'wall' was the most fascinating part of San Juan. I can't imagine the labor it took (mostly slave, I'm sure), to built it. It's twenty feet thick throughout while the height varies depending on location. There were originally multiple gates cut into the wall, of which, only one survives. That gate is called 'The Red Gate' Here's Drake doing his job as 'perspective'. Using him as a measure, it's easy to see the massive structure.
Perhaps the most obvious damage in the tourist areas from the hurricanes was on St. Thomas. We took an open air touring vehicle up to the top of the island to take in the overlook view. Most of the 'resorts' including a massive Marriott resort are still not open. The Marriott property sits right on a promontory overlooking the beach. It was battered.
 |
St. Thomas didn't even receive the brunt of the hurricanes in the US Virgin Islands. That honor was reserved for St. John, its sister island, which contains a massive national park. All the parks, both on Puerto Rico and on St. John are taking a back seat to the repairs for people and their personal property as well as infrastructure. El Junque in Puerto Rico, the only topical rainforest in United States, and the Virgin Islands National Park were severely damaged. The carefully built trails really suffered, and they are almost all still closed. We didn't even try to get to either one.
Our Holland America ship was brand new. It was exquisitely decorated for Christmas. I couldn't have taken pictures of all of the decorations since they were so numerous. The one which really caught my eye was the gingerbread houses/villages scattered throughout the main areas. Here's a sample of those.
We did have a wonderful time. The scenery was beautiful. It is always so breathtaking, you understand why people brave the inevitable hurricanes.
As always, if you want to see the rest of my photographs, click on the link:
Friday, December 15, 2017
Stepping Out
I love to read magazines. With our six months travel lifestyle, I don't subscribe to magazines; I read OLD magazines. Sometimes they're a few months old; sometimes they're years old. Incessant reading has taught me how hard it is to be original. Articles in magazines women favor are like teacher meetings. There's not much new under the sun.
I took up learning how to embroider to have something to do while people, who were tired of children, had moved 'up' in the school system and gave teacher in-service days' lectures on teaching/discipline techniques. What a yawn. After the first two years of this annual torture, they didn't have anything new or original to say. Embroidery helped keep me AWAKE. (My principal quickly learned to prefer this activity to me being 'creative' during these meetings.)
I have been thinking about trying new things lately. What a process! Deciding to try something new is like fighting all the demons inside yourself. Looking back, embroidery didn't start as a way to relieve the tedium of teacher meetings - that was a byproduct. It started because I admired someone else's needlework. She encouraged me to try it. Her encouragement freed me to buy an embroidery kit which used only one type of stitch. I goodwilled those pillow cases just last year! I was hooked. Then came YEARS of filling in pictures with thread; it was like paint by numbers. (People admire my satin stitches; it's because of all that practice.) It took me years to step out and start creating my own designs.
Getting my foot screwed up with a bad surgery and a dissolving joint was an impetus for creation. There were months spent being only able to walk 50 feet in a day. Creating saved me. What a struggle those two years were: Lost the job I loved; the school I loved closed, and I lost the ability to walk. The anger almost devoured me. Creativity seemed EASY, after all that. It was still a couple of more years before I could admit I was an artist. Stepping out of your comfort zone is not for the faint of heart.
Sometimes we think creativity is only one thing. "I'm not creative; I can't draw." "I can't sew." "I can't craft." "I can't write." "I have no sense of style." See the common thread? You always limit yourself with 'I can't'.
Creativity is all about enjoyment. I just created the most hideous embroidery piece because I don't know how to draw much less draw to scale. San Diego was on the ocean, and I love gulls. That was the basis for the idea of the piece. I knew the birds were wrong, but this piece just kept getting more and more fun to make. Here's the result. You be the
judge. My 2 year old great-nephew is getting this as a pillow for his room. I'm pretty sure he won't care about the scale/perspective problem of the flying gulls.
Sometimes for me creativity is about challenge. It's very hard to stretch yourself. Life here in the dollhouse in Sun City bores me. It's very easy to do the very same thing day after day, month after month. This year I'm challenging myself to step out in Sun City in the ways I embrace when we travel. Here's my first challenge of the new year: I'm taking a real college class at the local community college. Is it Yale? Well, no, but it's a class I've wanted to take for over 40 years, so I'm pretty sure it's going to be fun.
I'm taking Art History: Renaissance to Contemporary Art. There are so many gaps in my knowledge for someone who worships museums. I'm also a little curious to count how many pieces of art the professor will show via power point (I almost said 'slides') which I've actually seen in person. I will also be around YOUNG PEOPLE, and hopefully making some new friends. I can hardly wait!
Sometimes when you 'step out' you get an unlooked for reward. After eight years in New Orleans, I still call that the lagniappe.The class is only costing me $149 (that includes the tuition and fees). Good grief - it's practically free! I got the senior rate for tuition. The book costs almost as much as the tuition, and I even bought it used on Ebay.
This winter and spring, I'm hoping to write blog adventures in the same vein I write during the travel months. Hope you're ready, and hope I am too.
I took up learning how to embroider to have something to do while people, who were tired of children, had moved 'up' in the school system and gave teacher in-service days' lectures on teaching/discipline techniques. What a yawn. After the first two years of this annual torture, they didn't have anything new or original to say. Embroidery helped keep me AWAKE. (My principal quickly learned to prefer this activity to me being 'creative' during these meetings.)
I have been thinking about trying new things lately. What a process! Deciding to try something new is like fighting all the demons inside yourself. Looking back, embroidery didn't start as a way to relieve the tedium of teacher meetings - that was a byproduct. It started because I admired someone else's needlework. She encouraged me to try it. Her encouragement freed me to buy an embroidery kit which used only one type of stitch. I goodwilled those pillow cases just last year! I was hooked. Then came YEARS of filling in pictures with thread; it was like paint by numbers. (People admire my satin stitches; it's because of all that practice.) It took me years to step out and start creating my own designs.
Getting my foot screwed up with a bad surgery and a dissolving joint was an impetus for creation. There were months spent being only able to walk 50 feet in a day. Creating saved me. What a struggle those two years were: Lost the job I loved; the school I loved closed, and I lost the ability to walk. The anger almost devoured me. Creativity seemed EASY, after all that. It was still a couple of more years before I could admit I was an artist. Stepping out of your comfort zone is not for the faint of heart.
Sometimes we think creativity is only one thing. "I'm not creative; I can't draw." "I can't sew." "I can't craft." "I can't write." "I have no sense of style." See the common thread? You always limit yourself with 'I can't'.
Creativity is all about enjoyment. I just created the most hideous embroidery piece because I don't know how to draw much less draw to scale. San Diego was on the ocean, and I love gulls. That was the basis for the idea of the piece. I knew the birds were wrong, but this piece just kept getting more and more fun to make. Here's the result. You be the judge. My 2 year old great-nephew is getting this as a pillow for his room. I'm pretty sure he won't care about the scale/perspective problem of the flying gulls.
Sometimes for me creativity is about challenge. It's very hard to stretch yourself. Life here in the dollhouse in Sun City bores me. It's very easy to do the very same thing day after day, month after month. This year I'm challenging myself to step out in Sun City in the ways I embrace when we travel. Here's my first challenge of the new year: I'm taking a real college class at the local community college. Is it Yale? Well, no, but it's a class I've wanted to take for over 40 years, so I'm pretty sure it's going to be fun.
I'm taking Art History: Renaissance to Contemporary Art. There are so many gaps in my knowledge for someone who worships museums. I'm also a little curious to count how many pieces of art the professor will show via power point (I almost said 'slides') which I've actually seen in person. I will also be around YOUNG PEOPLE, and hopefully making some new friends. I can hardly wait!
Sometimes when you 'step out' you get an unlooked for reward. After eight years in New Orleans, I still call that the lagniappe.The class is only costing me $149 (that includes the tuition and fees). Good grief - it's practically free! I got the senior rate for tuition. The book costs almost as much as the tuition, and I even bought it used on Ebay.
This winter and spring, I'm hoping to write blog adventures in the same vein I write during the travel months. Hope you're ready, and hope I am too.
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Oh, Boy, It's the Holidays!
The holidays are upon us! All young women I know are saying, NO, NO, NOT YET. One of the smooth spots of being post 65 w/o grandchildren is there are almost no presents to buy, and I can shove off all the cooking on the younger generation. Sweeeeeeeet! (This year I'm going to have to do SOMETHING cooking wise for Thanksgiving, but I consider that to be an easy meal. I'm even contemplating making a pie.)
Looking back twenty years, I marvel at how many plates I was constantly twirling on the end of slender sticks. Now, that I only have about three plates twirling, oh, hey, let's be real - all my plates are lying securely on a waist high table, I can handle them with ease. So, another holiday season starts.
Here's a list of fun stuff to remember to do because each holiday may be your last one. (Service Announcement from 'The Grim Reaper')
1) If you don't feel like cooking the big, traditional holiday dinner, DON'T. (Imagine the hours you'd recover, and your loved ones could stop holding their collectively breaths since you're always in such a bad mood at the end of the big day when you've exhausted yourself shopping, preparing and cooking.) Yes, I know the idea can seem like heresy, but try it for one of the big holiday meals for just ONE year. Make a crockpot meal. Lay out a big sandwich tray. If you can't shed both meals (Thanksgiving, Christmas), then at least try shaking up one of them. Finally, if you get the, "Mom, if you don't cook, it won't be the same line, then offer to supervise rather than cook. Stick to your guns.)
2) Give presents all year long. Give trinkets at Christmas. I like calendars, cool greeting cards, books, puzzles, or games. Here's the way I look at it: The less money you spend at Christmas on 'presents' means the more money you can spend on charitable giving. So many reputable charities count on holiday giving - be a giver of important stuff.
3) Remember someone who has lost a love one in the past year. Acknowledgment of the loss at the first holiday season can be so appreciated. (Yes, yes, yes, I know, you don't know what to say, etc., etc., etc. So, buy a freakin' 'thinking of you' card, sign it and mail it. Any idiot can do that.)
4) Create a new tradition. (New stuff doesn't always 'stick', but keep trying . Something will catch hold. At the very least, it will keep the holiday family time from being so predictable.)
5) Enjoy Thanksgiving more. It disturbs me that Thanksgiving is being slowly eliminated by commercial greed. This is a holiday about the really, really important stuff without the minefields of religion or the expectation of buying, buying, buying. Don't go shopping on turkey day. The stores are open long enough. Nobody needs to start Christmas shopping on Thanksgiving Day. Remember: All the ads you are going to be flooded with are designed to psychologically snare you.
6) Get an Advent Calendar. I send a whole bunch of Jacquie Lawson calendars out every year, and I guarantee the adults who receive them enjoy them just as much as the kids. (For the clueless: Advent is a season in the Christian church that corresponds to the Christmas season. However, secular Advent Calendars are all about opening up something fun each day from December 1st to December 25th. There are paper versions where you pry up a paper window to reveal a new picture, or felt versions with pockets for each day, or electronic versions. They are all really fun.)
7) Rethink Christmas cards. Who do you really, really want to send a greeting to? Just do those people. It doesn't have to be hard. Electronic works! I'm a big fan of electronic cards because you don't have to particularly plan ahead. You can batch mail for the cost of a few electrons. That said, I do love the spirit of snail mail Christmas cards, and I send out way, way, way too many. However, it's not a contest. You don't get a brownie badge for sending out 100 or more cards. (And, yes, at one time, I actually did that.) What I have discovered is it's so heartwarming to have cards as decorations around your house - especially if you travel away at Christmas.
8) Nobody likes fruitcake or the fruit of the month club. Enough said.
9) Get your Christmas music in your car and play it from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas. Your mood will improve. I look forward to it every year. Of course, I'm a Christmas carol nut - although, I must say, the Great Christmas Carol Quiz blog was super popular last year. If you have small children, car Christmas carols are a great way to introduce cultural icons. (Right, Sarah?)
10) Finally, in midst of all the hubbub of home, office, friends, and obligations, spend two minutes each day of the 'season' being mindfully grateful for all your many blessings.
Looking back twenty years, I marvel at how many plates I was constantly twirling on the end of slender sticks. Now, that I only have about three plates twirling, oh, hey, let's be real - all my plates are lying securely on a waist high table, I can handle them with ease. So, another holiday season starts.
Here's a list of fun stuff to remember to do because each holiday may be your last one. (Service Announcement from 'The Grim Reaper')
1) If you don't feel like cooking the big, traditional holiday dinner, DON'T. (Imagine the hours you'd recover, and your loved ones could stop holding their collectively breaths since you're always in such a bad mood at the end of the big day when you've exhausted yourself shopping, preparing and cooking.) Yes, I know the idea can seem like heresy, but try it for one of the big holiday meals for just ONE year. Make a crockpot meal. Lay out a big sandwich tray. If you can't shed both meals (Thanksgiving, Christmas), then at least try shaking up one of them. Finally, if you get the, "Mom, if you don't cook, it won't be the same line, then offer to supervise rather than cook. Stick to your guns.)
2) Give presents all year long. Give trinkets at Christmas. I like calendars, cool greeting cards, books, puzzles, or games. Here's the way I look at it: The less money you spend at Christmas on 'presents' means the more money you can spend on charitable giving. So many reputable charities count on holiday giving - be a giver of important stuff.
3) Remember someone who has lost a love one in the past year. Acknowledgment of the loss at the first holiday season can be so appreciated. (Yes, yes, yes, I know, you don't know what to say, etc., etc., etc. So, buy a freakin' 'thinking of you' card, sign it and mail it. Any idiot can do that.)
4) Create a new tradition. (New stuff doesn't always 'stick', but keep trying . Something will catch hold. At the very least, it will keep the holiday family time from being so predictable.)
5) Enjoy Thanksgiving more. It disturbs me that Thanksgiving is being slowly eliminated by commercial greed. This is a holiday about the really, really important stuff without the minefields of religion or the expectation of buying, buying, buying. Don't go shopping on turkey day. The stores are open long enough. Nobody needs to start Christmas shopping on Thanksgiving Day. Remember: All the ads you are going to be flooded with are designed to psychologically snare you.
6) Get an Advent Calendar. I send a whole bunch of Jacquie Lawson calendars out every year, and I guarantee the adults who receive them enjoy them just as much as the kids. (For the clueless: Advent is a season in the Christian church that corresponds to the Christmas season. However, secular Advent Calendars are all about opening up something fun each day from December 1st to December 25th. There are paper versions where you pry up a paper window to reveal a new picture, or felt versions with pockets for each day, or electronic versions. They are all really fun.)
7) Rethink Christmas cards. Who do you really, really want to send a greeting to? Just do those people. It doesn't have to be hard. Electronic works! I'm a big fan of electronic cards because you don't have to particularly plan ahead. You can batch mail for the cost of a few electrons. That said, I do love the spirit of snail mail Christmas cards, and I send out way, way, way too many. However, it's not a contest. You don't get a brownie badge for sending out 100 or more cards. (And, yes, at one time, I actually did that.) What I have discovered is it's so heartwarming to have cards as decorations around your house - especially if you travel away at Christmas.
8) Nobody likes fruitcake or the fruit of the month club. Enough said.
9) Get your Christmas music in your car and play it from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas. Your mood will improve. I look forward to it every year. Of course, I'm a Christmas carol nut - although, I must say, the Great Christmas Carol Quiz blog was super popular last year. If you have small children, car Christmas carols are a great way to introduce cultural icons. (Right, Sarah?)
10) Finally, in midst of all the hubbub of home, office, friends, and obligations, spend two minutes each day of the 'season' being mindfully grateful for all your many blessings.
Thursday, November 9, 2017
Round Five....Good News
Since I don't think it's fair to hold people in suspense....... The news from Round Five is GOOD. Well, not GOOD exactly, but recovery is finally beginning to make sense. Pain levels have dropped once more - unless I do something stupid like trying to go more than one place during a day.
First, this is sort of a public service announcement. If you don't know it, all antibiotics are not these easily taken, clears up the ______________ in a week kind. Since I google everything I take prior to taking it, I was more than alarmed to discover the two antibiotics the post operative PA prescribed can actually be quite dangerous if not taken properly. One of them is a known cause of a very serious intestinal infection called C-def. It's ironical an antibiotic which is supposed to clear up infection can actually cause one. Clindamycin is so efficient at eradicating bacteria that it can scrub your gut of ALL your bacteria - even the helpful kind, and thus you develop an infection (C-def) because of the antibiotic. Of course the post operative people didn't tell me ANY of this.
The reason the recovery is finally beginning to make sense is because I went to my family doctor for my annual physical. He's going to take over the care of the infected incision. He immediately put me on a SECOND probiotic each day. (I'd already started one a day on the advice of my personal pharmacist.) He carefully made me understand the importance of exact dosage times, and FOOD every single time I take one of the antibiotic doses. His best guess is the infection will be gone by Monday the 13th of November, but not the inflammation near the incision which is still extremely painful. It's so painful that I really can't wear anything comfortably except yoga pants - what a fashion statement.
Next, he told me exactly how the recovery is going to go: The next twelve to sixteen weeks will be daily, constant pain - usually low level (3/4). Intermittent pain for the next six to eight months. After that numbness will gradually lessen. (My entire left leg is pretty numb down the side and front all the way to the ankle.) In one year, I will probably feel back to normal if I do everything right - like no bending, twisting or lifting for two to three months after surgery, diligently going physical therapy, and slowly restarting an exercise program. Sigh......
The bad news is the Doc cancelled the Thanksgiving trip to New York, and when I quizzed him about the Christmas cruise, his answer was a pair of crossed fingers. I told him I'm going on the cruise if I have to wheelchair it! On the positive side, Southwest REFUNDED MY $1000 WORTH OF THANKSGIVING PLANE TICKETS TO AND FROM NEW YORK! And people wonder why I always try to fly SW. And, I know they can resell them for a much higher price than I paid, but, still - it's the principal of customer service Southwest practices.
I'm able to walk pretty normally around the house, but I never leave it without my trusty wheels. Yes, that black and white monstrosity is my bag addition to carry stuff. The real purpose of the walker is not to support me when I'm walking. Instead, it's a mnemonic aid: Turn your body, don't twist it. Don't pick up anything you can't reach without bending over, and don't carry anything more than a pound or two in your hands (throws your body 'off'). What a complete pain.
Ask Drake, or should I say, "Mr. Fetch-It". Just imagine how difficult and frustrating your day is when you can't open a cabinet below your waist, use a wall socket, step your legs into your panties and pants, bend over to pick up anything off the floor, struggle to get in and out of the car, and my personal favorite: put on your own shoes and sox. I tell you what; Drake's seriously thinking about putting me on the Waiver Wire. He REALLY hates cooking by committee because I simply won't accept three months of fast food.
Ok, so what's good? Just knowing what I'm really facing has taken a lot of anxiety away. I've noticed the pain is perceptively lessened since my Doc laid out a time table for me. I have confidence that he and his 'peeps' are going to be responsive in getting this infection gone and the incision healed up. (Oh, I forgot, I have to see a wound care specialist if the infection isn't gone after completing the two antibiotics.)
First, this is sort of a public service announcement. If you don't know it, all antibiotics are not these easily taken, clears up the ______________ in a week kind. Since I google everything I take prior to taking it, I was more than alarmed to discover the two antibiotics the post operative PA prescribed can actually be quite dangerous if not taken properly. One of them is a known cause of a very serious intestinal infection called C-def. It's ironical an antibiotic which is supposed to clear up infection can actually cause one. Clindamycin is so efficient at eradicating bacteria that it can scrub your gut of ALL your bacteria - even the helpful kind, and thus you develop an infection (C-def) because of the antibiotic. Of course the post operative people didn't tell me ANY of this.
The reason the recovery is finally beginning to make sense is because I went to my family doctor for my annual physical. He's going to take over the care of the infected incision. He immediately put me on a SECOND probiotic each day. (I'd already started one a day on the advice of my personal pharmacist.) He carefully made me understand the importance of exact dosage times, and FOOD every single time I take one of the antibiotic doses. His best guess is the infection will be gone by Monday the 13th of November, but not the inflammation near the incision which is still extremely painful. It's so painful that I really can't wear anything comfortably except yoga pants - what a fashion statement.
 |
| Jan and the Wonderful Walker |
The bad news is the Doc cancelled the Thanksgiving trip to New York, and when I quizzed him about the Christmas cruise, his answer was a pair of crossed fingers. I told him I'm going on the cruise if I have to wheelchair it! On the positive side, Southwest REFUNDED MY $1000 WORTH OF THANKSGIVING PLANE TICKETS TO AND FROM NEW YORK! And people wonder why I always try to fly SW. And, I know they can resell them for a much higher price than I paid, but, still - it's the principal of customer service Southwest practices.
Ask Drake, or should I say, "Mr. Fetch-It". Just imagine how difficult and frustrating your day is when you can't open a cabinet below your waist, use a wall socket, step your legs into your panties and pants, bend over to pick up anything off the floor, struggle to get in and out of the car, and my personal favorite: put on your own shoes and sox. I tell you what; Drake's seriously thinking about putting me on the Waiver Wire. He REALLY hates cooking by committee because I simply won't accept three months of fast food.
 |
| This is a wonderful walker wheelie |
Finally, I promise the next blog will be something fun or interesting. I'm tired of this whole surgery/pain/ gig, and I expect everyone else is too. I want to thank everyone who sent me a card, texted me, called me, or e-carded me. A special shout out to the person who has written me every single day since this ordeal started. (I'm pretty sure she's earned some more stars in her heavenly crown.) I've also received flowers, meals, and entertainment from friends and family. My soft spot in the get well card category is for the 20 line letter from one of my second grader friends. Let's just say it was a very interesting read. It's so true when you're feeling punk that a 'good mail' day can really give you a lift.
Drake and I are feeling like 'when it rains, it pours' - This week my dentist discovered I need a crown, and Drake found out during his routine eye exam that he needs a minor eye surgery - he's developed a 'film' under his cataract lens. It's a 2 minute procedure to correct, and he doesn't even need a driver to and from.
That's just typical stuff that happens to your body post age 65. I don't think anyone handed out a coupon allowing one to live forever. However, life's highway seems to be on the downhill slide for us right now. Ahhh, but this too will pass. The real question is how graceful will I be while we are passing out from under this thunderstorm.
That's just typical stuff that happens to your body post age 65. I don't think anyone handed out a coupon allowing one to live forever. However, life's highway seems to be on the downhill slide for us right now. Ahhh, but this too will pass. The real question is how graceful will I be while we are passing out from under this thunderstorm.
Friday, October 20, 2017
Round Four: And, Next..... a New Wrinkle, and It's not Good
It's unanimous. I'm not having the normal reaction to this back surgery. Here's a quick recap: 8+ pain sends me to the ER; and two days later emergency back surgery on Saturday, September 30th to repair two problems. Three days post-surgery, I'm suddenly dealing with 7+ nerve pain! What the F**K! When we FINALLY get the post-op team to return our calls, they prescribe a steroid pack to work on the nerve inflammation which is still flaring.
The pain problems stem from the surgeon having to move aside an entire nerve bundle and then move it back. Those are the nerves giving me fits. Back to the recap: 7+ pain returns as soon as I finish the 'steroid pack'. Then, at the appointment to take out the stitches, (which the office 'lost', and I had to be worked in), instead of being doing high fives all around, I'm still experiencing excruciating nerve pain and trying to talk to the PA about my concerns. He literally says, "We need to move this along. I'm an hour behind." He then takes out the stitches, writes scripts for mega narcotics - morphine plus oxycodone taken together. (No instructions about how to handle narcotic constipation.) During that appointment, the PA says, 'that incision might be infected' as he's taking out the stitches, but does nothing. He say nothing and does nothing about the contact rash in the shape of the post surgery bandage.
Five days later, I'm calling the post operative 'team' again, and again; they won't return my calls. My incision is hurting and I'm getting worried about the 7+ pain reoccurring when the mega narcotics are finished - which, of course, will happen over the weekend. On my own, (everything has been on my own in this deal), I reduce the narcotics dosage, and I'm pleased the 7+ pain isn't occurring on the massively reduced dosage.
Six days after the stitches were taken out, I go to the physical therapist for evaluation to start my six pt sessions. As she's assessing my pain level, I mention that I'm having pain in my hip and leg and also in the incision. She says, "Can I look at the incision? I can put new steri strips on it. " I'm thinking, "What's happening here? Someone is being proactive. Gosh, I hope I don't faint." Next thing I know, she's saying, "No wonder you're hurting, this incision is infected. I'm calling your surgeon's office." I said, "Good luck. Maybe they'll take your call." She also informs me that I have a contact rash reaction to the adhesive in the original bandage, and she tells me how to treat this.
Sure enough, wow, I suddenly have not one but two prescribed antibiotic prescriptions to be started immediately, and even more astonishing, I have an appointment the very next day with the PA who dropped the ball when the incision was only mildly infected.
The upshot is everyone involved in my post-op care KNOWS AND HAS SAID OUT LOUD I'm not having a normal reaction to the surgery. I think I'm the only one who is not surprised. No matter how loudly I say: I DON'T HEAL FAST, AND I HAVE TROUBLE AFTER SURGERY, no one seems to hear me. Here's an example: Last February after my breast surgery, the breast surgeon's PA said, "Oh, you'll be completely healed in 30 days." When I said, "No, that's not what is going to happen.". I got the patronizing smirk, and smug comment of, "Oh, I think you will." 90 days later my breast finally stopped hurting.
The difference with this surgery is the shocking amount and severity of the post operative pain. I've been given no help or guidance by the post surgery team with the super pain as well as other niggling problems that I've haven't screamed repeatedly for. Shall we say, I have a bad attitude whenever I see any person who is on the 'post operative' team? Thank heaven, I got a competent physical therapist, or I'd really be in deep trouble with an untreated infected incision.
In my last blog entry, I said, "Let's hope there's no Round 4 blog entry." Well......, do I dare wish I don't have to write a Round 5 entry? I'm getting worn down by fighting to get post operative care. Drake is also getting worn down, frustrated, and almost as angry as I am as he also advocates. And, anger is SOOOO conducive to healing. The upshot is don't take me off your prayer list, and I could really use some cards, letters, emails, or calls.
The pain problems stem from the surgeon having to move aside an entire nerve bundle and then move it back. Those are the nerves giving me fits. Back to the recap: 7+ pain returns as soon as I finish the 'steroid pack'. Then, at the appointment to take out the stitches, (which the office 'lost', and I had to be worked in), instead of being doing high fives all around, I'm still experiencing excruciating nerve pain and trying to talk to the PA about my concerns. He literally says, "We need to move this along. I'm an hour behind." He then takes out the stitches, writes scripts for mega narcotics - morphine plus oxycodone taken together. (No instructions about how to handle narcotic constipation.) During that appointment, the PA says, 'that incision might be infected' as he's taking out the stitches, but does nothing. He say nothing and does nothing about the contact rash in the shape of the post surgery bandage.
Five days later, I'm calling the post operative 'team' again, and again; they won't return my calls. My incision is hurting and I'm getting worried about the 7+ pain reoccurring when the mega narcotics are finished - which, of course, will happen over the weekend. On my own, (everything has been on my own in this deal), I reduce the narcotics dosage, and I'm pleased the 7+ pain isn't occurring on the massively reduced dosage.
Six days after the stitches were taken out, I go to the physical therapist for evaluation to start my six pt sessions. As she's assessing my pain level, I mention that I'm having pain in my hip and leg and also in the incision. She says, "Can I look at the incision? I can put new steri strips on it. " I'm thinking, "What's happening here? Someone is being proactive. Gosh, I hope I don't faint." Next thing I know, she's saying, "No wonder you're hurting, this incision is infected. I'm calling your surgeon's office." I said, "Good luck. Maybe they'll take your call." She also informs me that I have a contact rash reaction to the adhesive in the original bandage, and she tells me how to treat this.
Sure enough, wow, I suddenly have not one but two prescribed antibiotic prescriptions to be started immediately, and even more astonishing, I have an appointment the very next day with the PA who dropped the ball when the incision was only mildly infected.
The upshot is everyone involved in my post-op care KNOWS AND HAS SAID OUT LOUD I'm not having a normal reaction to the surgery. I think I'm the only one who is not surprised. No matter how loudly I say: I DON'T HEAL FAST, AND I HAVE TROUBLE AFTER SURGERY, no one seems to hear me. Here's an example: Last February after my breast surgery, the breast surgeon's PA said, "Oh, you'll be completely healed in 30 days." When I said, "No, that's not what is going to happen.". I got the patronizing smirk, and smug comment of, "Oh, I think you will." 90 days later my breast finally stopped hurting.
The difference with this surgery is the shocking amount and severity of the post operative pain. I've been given no help or guidance by the post surgery team with the super pain as well as other niggling problems that I've haven't screamed repeatedly for. Shall we say, I have a bad attitude whenever I see any person who is on the 'post operative' team? Thank heaven, I got a competent physical therapist, or I'd really be in deep trouble with an untreated infected incision.
In my last blog entry, I said, "Let's hope there's no Round 4 blog entry." Well......, do I dare wish I don't have to write a Round 5 entry? I'm getting worn down by fighting to get post operative care. Drake is also getting worn down, frustrated, and almost as angry as I am as he also advocates. And, anger is SOOOO conducive to healing. The upshot is don't take me off your prayer list, and I could really use some cards, letters, emails, or calls.
Friday, October 13, 2017
Round Three: Pain, Pain As Far As I can See
I discovered this week I'm in the two percent. I don't want to be. Apparently, two percent of the people with this type of surgery have nerves that refuse to settle down and stop being inflamed. Why am I not surprised? Everything about this surgery has been out of control from the very beginning. Now, I have out of control pain.
I know pain, and I know nerve pain. We're old friends thanks to a foot surgery that went bonkers about 12 years ago. Since then, I've been managing pain with every step I take, and if I may pat myself on the back, I've been doing a damn good job. I'm not addicted to pain killers; I continue to function at a normal activity level. Most people never know I even hurt which is the way I've wanted it. And, one of the side effects of the neuropathy which has invaded my feet these past few years, is the pain specific to certain nerves has been deadened.
So, when the nerve pain in my back, down both the front and side of my leg and in my groin went out of control this week, I hurt so badly I couldn't even be mad. I'm talking labor pain quality of pain, but without respite or even the prize at the end. I'm talking 8+ on the pain scale. It was pain at this level which originally sent me to the emergency room and resulted in the back surgery happening on an emergency basis on a Saturday morning.
Fortunately, for the support staff of this 'machine' I've been dropped into, Drake has been interfacing with them since all I want to do is scream and curse when they don't return calls or make idiotic suggestions. This is a conveyor belt operation. First, you get scheduled for surgery, then have your pre-surgery appointment after getting blood work, an ekg, and a chest x-ray. (This is precautionary, so you don't die on the table.) Then, you have 'day surgery' in the outpatient clinic, and go home armed with post surgical instructions and a low dose pain prescription. Two weeks later, the physician's assistant takes out the stitches and they send you on to physical therapy.
They don't expect you to have surgery in the hospital on a Saturday. Not only did I not receive post operative instructions, but when we called for the follow up surgical appointment, this well-oiled machine didn't even know I'd had surgery! Plus, they managed to screw up the time and place of the post operative appointment.
They don't have a plan when you call three days after surgery with complaints of 7+ nerve pain. I've had to explain I already take Gabapentin a low dose prescription used as an anti-inflammatory, and I can't take ibuprofen around the clock. (Those were their first choices for pain management.) Grudgingly, they prescribed a steroid pack. I've been given a low dose narcotic. I'm taking Celebrex as an anti-inflammatory. When the steroid pak was finished, the pain zoomed right back into the stratosphere, and I coped with it for two days waiting for the post surgical appointment.
It was at that appointment I found out I'm in the vaulted 2%. Apparently most people at the two week point feel mild discomfort for which they take an Aleve. For us 2 percenters, they grudgingly have to keep trying stuff to control pain for the continual nerve inflammation.
At the post surgical appointment, high dose narcotics were prescribed. As I was trying to understand what happens when you take high dose narcotics, and trying to explain I was worried about addiction, the physician's assistant told me he was running an hour late and we needed to move along. He concluded the appointment by taking out the stitches and doing a sloppy job with a set of steri-strips.
Of course, no one mentioned how I'm supposed to handle the opiod constipation. I'm still suffering anxiety because if these dope prescriptions are renewed, will I be at risk of becoming the newest member of Narcotics Anonymous? The anxiety is mainly about what happens if I'm still hurting at these high pain levels when these prescriptions run out.
The good news is I don't hurt much. The nerve pain has been masked, so I feel about 2-4 on the pain scale except when a dope dosage has almost worn off - then I rocket up to pain at level 6. I'm disgruntled. I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I'm angry.
Then, there's EVERYTHING that Drake has been doing. He tells me he belongs to the Clumsy Nursing Service and the Idiots Shopping Cartel when actually, he's been doing a magnificent job of taking care of someone who can't bend, twist or lift anything and who is also loopy part of the time and just a little off balance.
OK, I think I've finished complaining.
To everyone who has emailed me, texted me, called me, or sent me snail mail (my favorite), please accept my heartfelt thanks. I love to get mail especially when I'm really down. My favorites are the postcard in the shape of a baboon head, and the 20 line letter from a 2nd grader friend. I'm also grateful for all the prayers being offered on my behalf. Prayer is the best. Oh, and the flowers I've received; those have been wonderful. Then, there are the meals. My friends and family have been johnnie on the spot delivering food. (Drake is REALLY grateful for all those meals.)
I'm a lucky person who has lots of friends who go that extra mile to make me feel cherished. I'm always telling people I write to who are ill a surefire way to pull yourself out of the depths is to count your blessings. I have heaps and gobs of those blessings which are easy to overlook when your focus is negative. So far, I'd give myself a C- for my mental state. Writing this has helped me see how my attitude sucks. Time to pull up my sox - well, actually, Drake has to do that since I can't bend over to put them on. I guess I'm pulling up my metaphorical sox, and instituting ways to turn my mental attitude around. I don't have time for excuses, or for more whining and I'm leaving the pity party. I'm not sniffing up any more anger. Hopefully, I WON'T be writing a 'Round Four' blog entry. Thanks to all my readers for helping me clarify my thoughts and for helping me get my head screwed on straight. (The head screw thing was one of my mother's favorites, and I always find the mental image of getting those screw threads lined up hilarious.) See, I'm already smiling.
I know pain, and I know nerve pain. We're old friends thanks to a foot surgery that went bonkers about 12 years ago. Since then, I've been managing pain with every step I take, and if I may pat myself on the back, I've been doing a damn good job. I'm not addicted to pain killers; I continue to function at a normal activity level. Most people never know I even hurt which is the way I've wanted it. And, one of the side effects of the neuropathy which has invaded my feet these past few years, is the pain specific to certain nerves has been deadened.
So, when the nerve pain in my back, down both the front and side of my leg and in my groin went out of control this week, I hurt so badly I couldn't even be mad. I'm talking labor pain quality of pain, but without respite or even the prize at the end. I'm talking 8+ on the pain scale. It was pain at this level which originally sent me to the emergency room and resulted in the back surgery happening on an emergency basis on a Saturday morning.
Fortunately, for the support staff of this 'machine' I've been dropped into, Drake has been interfacing with them since all I want to do is scream and curse when they don't return calls or make idiotic suggestions. This is a conveyor belt operation. First, you get scheduled for surgery, then have your pre-surgery appointment after getting blood work, an ekg, and a chest x-ray. (This is precautionary, so you don't die on the table.) Then, you have 'day surgery' in the outpatient clinic, and go home armed with post surgical instructions and a low dose pain prescription. Two weeks later, the physician's assistant takes out the stitches and they send you on to physical therapy.
They don't expect you to have surgery in the hospital on a Saturday. Not only did I not receive post operative instructions, but when we called for the follow up surgical appointment, this well-oiled machine didn't even know I'd had surgery! Plus, they managed to screw up the time and place of the post operative appointment.
They don't have a plan when you call three days after surgery with complaints of 7+ nerve pain. I've had to explain I already take Gabapentin a low dose prescription used as an anti-inflammatory, and I can't take ibuprofen around the clock. (Those were their first choices for pain management.) Grudgingly, they prescribed a steroid pack. I've been given a low dose narcotic. I'm taking Celebrex as an anti-inflammatory. When the steroid pak was finished, the pain zoomed right back into the stratosphere, and I coped with it for two days waiting for the post surgical appointment.
It was at that appointment I found out I'm in the vaulted 2%. Apparently most people at the two week point feel mild discomfort for which they take an Aleve. For us 2 percenters, they grudgingly have to keep trying stuff to control pain for the continual nerve inflammation.
At the post surgical appointment, high dose narcotics were prescribed. As I was trying to understand what happens when you take high dose narcotics, and trying to explain I was worried about addiction, the physician's assistant told me he was running an hour late and we needed to move along. He concluded the appointment by taking out the stitches and doing a sloppy job with a set of steri-strips.
Of course, no one mentioned how I'm supposed to handle the opiod constipation. I'm still suffering anxiety because if these dope prescriptions are renewed, will I be at risk of becoming the newest member of Narcotics Anonymous? The anxiety is mainly about what happens if I'm still hurting at these high pain levels when these prescriptions run out.
The good news is I don't hurt much. The nerve pain has been masked, so I feel about 2-4 on the pain scale except when a dope dosage has almost worn off - then I rocket up to pain at level 6. I'm disgruntled. I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I'm angry.
Then, there's EVERYTHING that Drake has been doing. He tells me he belongs to the Clumsy Nursing Service and the Idiots Shopping Cartel when actually, he's been doing a magnificent job of taking care of someone who can't bend, twist or lift anything and who is also loopy part of the time and just a little off balance.
OK, I think I've finished complaining.
To everyone who has emailed me, texted me, called me, or sent me snail mail (my favorite), please accept my heartfelt thanks. I love to get mail especially when I'm really down. My favorites are the postcard in the shape of a baboon head, and the 20 line letter from a 2nd grader friend. I'm also grateful for all the prayers being offered on my behalf. Prayer is the best. Oh, and the flowers I've received; those have been wonderful. Then, there are the meals. My friends and family have been johnnie on the spot delivering food. (Drake is REALLY grateful for all those meals.)
I'm a lucky person who has lots of friends who go that extra mile to make me feel cherished. I'm always telling people I write to who are ill a surefire way to pull yourself out of the depths is to count your blessings. I have heaps and gobs of those blessings which are easy to overlook when your focus is negative. So far, I'd give myself a C- for my mental state. Writing this has helped me see how my attitude sucks. Time to pull up my sox - well, actually, Drake has to do that since I can't bend over to put them on. I guess I'm pulling up my metaphorical sox, and instituting ways to turn my mental attitude around. I don't have time for excuses, or for more whining and I'm leaving the pity party. I'm not sniffing up any more anger. Hopefully, I WON'T be writing a 'Round Four' blog entry. Thanks to all my readers for helping me clarify my thoughts and for helping me get my head screwed on straight. (The head screw thing was one of my mother's favorites, and I always find the mental image of getting those screw threads lined up hilarious.) See, I'm already smiling.
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