There Goes Our Disneyland Fund

Our biggest reason for moving to Oregon was so that I could breathe.  I didn’t wish for my family members have to listen to me hack out my lungs or gasp for air – and yet this month has seemed to defeat the purpose.  Yesterday I spent the majority of the day in the emergency room – first the waiting room and then a small section in another room divided by curtains.  I thought Dial-up AOL was the slowest thing ever.  They are speed demons next to Urgent Care.  And Urgent was five times faster than Emergency.  Granted, it was Memorial Day and there was nowhere else to go.  Most of the patients there didn’t seem in bad enough shape to require emergency care.  I heard three or four of them just chatting away as if they were there to socialize.  I clung onto my head so that it wouldn’t roll off or explode.  I suspect I was dehydrated as I had left large evidences of my DNS at different Urgent cares that Google had said were open, but were not.  I didn’t realize that it was possible for me to throw up that much when I really hadn’t sent that much down.  Half a yogurt.  Perhaps a third a bottle of water.  My stomach hurt more than my head.

At first, the cool air coming from the ceiling felt really nice.  Throwing up really wears me out.  I was hot.  I was panting.  However, I did eventually get cold.  Roland offered to go out to the car and get a coat for me.  A coat?  I don’t have a coat in the car.  He brought a jacket that I had never seen before.  I asked if it was an early birthday gift.  He just smiled.  Someone in the ward had given it to him to give to me.  I still don’t know if it’s a birthday present or not.

Funny how I was cold and the woman on the other side of the curtain was complaining about how hot she was.  It sounded as though she had many of the symptoms I had experienced on Mothers’ Day.  I was sweating then.  I am usually always hot.  It is rare that I get cold.  I have been blessed with cool weather to suffer through.  Wish I could enjoy it more.  It has been the perfect temperature overall.  But this month has been extremely painful for me physically.  I am starting to get better again.  Let’s just hope it sticks this time and doesn’t resort back to something else.

I feel bad that my emergency bill is going to be costly.  I think they charge by the hour.  I’ve been wanting to take Jenna back to Disneyland for a while now.  She would also like to visit Universal.  We would also like to take someone who would be willing to go on rides with her as there are many that I can no longer do comfortably.

Should get busy on my discussion and assignment for my class as I have to make the Writing Center part of this week’s assignment.  I will need proof.  I hate that.  So I will write the thing and turn it in ASAP.  I’ll submit the assignment but I won’t make an appointment for a live session.  Those have been painful experiences.  Like I need more pain to deal with right now.

I found a message on my phone from Tony and Ester.  They had called to sing “Happy Birthday” – Ester echoed a little “Cha-cha-cha”  It made me smile.  I shared with Roland and Jenna and they smiled too.  

Dash #28 George Bird

                George Bird passed away the first week of March.  All of his biological children were with him in addition to most of his grandchildren.  I use the word “biological” to set apart those that he physically raised and the countless many who thought of him as a dad or a grandfather as he influenced many and made such a positive impact.

          A couple up the street had named their youngest son after him.  The couple’s granddaughter (who lived next door to Birds) refused to believe that George was not her real grandpa.  He had a special bond with many of the neighborhood children.  I, myself, had come to think of him as a second dad.

          He and his wife, Peggy (who I will be writing another dash post about) lived across the street from my mom.  They have always been great friends.  George learned that our families had bonds even before their connection in Midvale.  Turns out George’s dad and my Uncle Faye were good friends.  He had more information on my biological grandmother’s side than I did (see here) 

          George kept busy.  His hobbies included carpentry, quilting (though I don’t recall his taking it up until after he had retired) and service – not necessarily in that order as I imagine service would be first.  I just remember his carpentry assistance when he installed some shelving units in our bathroom and repaired a false drawer that my nephew Kimball had pulled off.  The quilt he made for Roland and me for our wedding still covers our bed (see here).

          George told a lot of corny jokes.  One of my favorite memories is when he would ask my brother, “What is your name, Corey?” and Corey would report to my mom, “He (George) is a nice guy, but he can never seem to remember my name.”

          I wish I could have attended his final service and paid my respect.  He evidently had Alzheimer’s in his final stages of life.  That would have been difficult to witness and I’m grateful that I do not share memories for those final stages as I had already had to deal with something similar with my own mom.

          George and Peggy had gone to the assisted living on a regular basis before my mom passed.  I have always valued their friendship and feel so honored having the opportunities with them that I’ve had.

Day 14 That is a Long Time

          It’s been two weeks since I went to the doctor.  I had worked three hours on Thursday which maybe I shouldn’t have.  On Friday I developed a headache that just seemed to get worse with each day of the weekend.  I have never had a hangover before, but I have had brain freeze – which is how I felt when the headache started.  Progressively it got worse and I imagined that is what a hangover must feel like.  Especially yesterday when a sensitive stomach decided to contribute to the pain.

          While Roland was delivering his talk in church, I was on our bathroom floor experiencing dry heaves.  Perhaps I was dehydrated.  I gulped some water.  Of course, I threw that up.  I wore myself out throwing up and holding my head and crying because I hurt.  I did manage to make it back to my bed and listen to my deep breathing get softer until I eventually fell asleep.

          The process repeated itself during the night when I wanted to sleep.  I was sweating with each spew.  Roland asked if I wanted him to drive me to the hospital, but at that point, I couldn’t sit upright and would have destroyed myself along with the car.

          Once I finally drifted off, I did sleep.  I decided perhaps this is not part of the healing process after all – that somewhere between the bronchitis and after the z-pack, I must have developed a sinus infection. My head is still throbbing, but not like it was.  I think I may have strained my throat last night trying to get the stuff out.  Today is Memorial Day.  I would just assume forget this one.

Day 11 slowly recovering still

After two weeks of not working, I returned to work yesterday – though it was for only half a day.  I prayed that I would be able to get through the day.  My cough had died down.  Still, I had to change my pants before I had even left the house. 

       I left the house early to stop by a thrift store as there is a game I would like to get for Jenna – a specific game that I still have not seen and may have to order online.  While there, I looked at dresses and found a light jumper that I thought I could wear. 

       I had planned on putting keys in my pocket and hooking the walkie-talkie through one of the belt loops but while at the thrift store, I realized that the pants I had changed into did not have pockets.  Frustrating.  I returned home for a lanyard in which I could hang the keys and the walkie-talkie.  Only by the time I returned home, I decided it was warm enough that I could change into my brand new dress (which I hadn’t realized was on discount and spent only 2.25) and so had changed for a third time.

       Once again I prayed that I would make it for the next three hours without prior problems that I’ve experienced for over a week.  I’m happy to say that I was able to make it through the rest of the day without much inconvenience.  I was needed to help with lunch, but think I could have returned home right after recess as I really did not feel useful for the most part.  I do prefer mornings to afternoons.

       I was supposed to meet up with some friends at 4:00 but my mind got loopy and I know I wouldn’t have been pleasant company.  As I think about it, it was a good idea not to have put myself on the road in my condition.  I am bummed that I didn’t get to see my friends. But I did end up spending just a bit of quality time with Roland - whose mind has seemed elsewhere lately also.

       Tried a new sleep routine.  I have failed miserably. I just haven’t been able to get comfortable.  In addition to my soar rear and legs, I also have a major headache – well, major for me.  It may be minimal for those who experience headaches more routinely than I.  I suppose I’ll be napping later on today.  I really am sleepy.  I hope this crazy weather didn't push me back to where I started. Dang it all!

Too Much or Not Enough

I find it interesting that the topic of my last class focused on Medicare and social security.  The topic of my current class has been the brain, stress and this week’s topic on sleep disorders – which I have had my entire life.  Thus I’m making discoveries.  I am also getting the feeling that I need to put my affairs in order and start throwing away mountains of stuff so that Roland and Jenna won’t have to do it in the event I leave this earth.

          I’m not saying that death is around the corner.  It just feels like it in some ways.  Perhaps it’s just the side effects of still trying to heal from bronchitis and still coughing and not breathing right.  I was told at the doctor’s office that my breathing was off.  I don’t think it’s the bronchitis that’s to blame.  My breathing has always been off.  I think more off as I age.  My pipes are small and seem to shrink with each passing year.  No, I don’t have anything to back that up.  Just theory.

          I’ve been reading past memories of mom and dad and their good health somehow shattered.  Dad’s was physical and mom’s was mental.  I think I have a little bit of each going for me right now.  My sleep patterns are horrible.  But they have always been horrible.  Mom said after she gave birth to me, I was always asleep when I was in the hospital.  She said she never saw me awake until she got me home.  I was her first child.  She didn’t know what to expect but thought I ought to be sleeping more than I did.  She said it was as though I had slept in the hospital enough to get me through the next five years. 

          Patrick was the opposite.  He slept the normal hours a baby should.  Mom said he had weird breathing patterns though – or maybe it was just paranoia on her part.  After all, she had dealt with a non-sleeping child for two years before Patrick came along and slept beautifully, but she would have a hard time falling asleep because she wasn’t used to a sleeping baby and would place her hand on top of him to make sure he was still breathing.

         

          I don’t know when I started sleeping in an upright position.  I do sleep better than when I am trying to lay flat.  I still snore though, but perhaps not as loudly.  I don’t know if anyone else in my family snores.  It’s a wonder that any of my family were able to sleep with me in the house.  Though I’ve never heard myself, I understand that I am loud.

          For the most part, whenever I have drifted off in a recliner, I will wake up in the same position in which I fell asleep.  If I try sleeping in bed, I am all over the place along with the sheets and whatever other bedding started out near me.  I rarely ever have blankets on.  Sometimes I may use just one.  But I am usually too hot.

          My feet and ears get cold and I will wear slippers and sometimes a hat or headband.  I usually remove the headwear long before I wake up. 

          This week, as part of my assignment, I am supposed to turn in a sleep schedule which I have yet to create and stick with.  Especially since the bronchitis and antibiotics and cough and phlegm.  I get worn out so easily.  A trip to the mailbox does me in.  I have taken more naps in the last two weeks than I have ever taken in my entire life.  Perhaps it’s wrong to call them naps as I often sleep longer than I do through the night.

          I think the weather may upset my sleeping also.  And I don’t think it would matter where in the country or probably even the entire planet right now.  The weather has been experiencing some violent mood swings.  I like the weather right now.  I want to be a part of it.  I want it to stay where it is.  I don’t want it to warm up again.

Dash # 10: hobbies

       I loved creating things.  I would often get kits for gifts and I would go to town making latch punch rugs, polished rocks, turntable paintings, and potholders to name a few.  One of my favorite things was designing bands from really small beads. 

       I don’t know how old I was when I joined a handcraft club that would send out kits of parts and instructions on how to piece them together.  Usually, I would give them away as gifts.

       Now it’s Jenna who likes to keep her hands busy.  She enjoys crafts as I once did.

New Phobia Word I Learned

 

Last week I sat with my instructor for the final discussion.  I have been the only student turn out for each live lecture.  I learned a new word I thought I would share this week.   The word is Thanatophobia.  I don’t have it, but I know some people do.  It’s death anxiety.  My instructor said that the older a person is, the less likely he/she will have thanatophobia. I also believe that is true.

As I have mentioned before, I hang with a group of friends once a month or so.  Two are in their 70’s.  One is 65 and I am the baby of the group.  Death has been a topic as we have all seen friends pass.  The 65-year-old has a hard time dealing with the idea of death.  She may have thanatophobia.  I will mention it to her the next time we converse about the death subject. 

Day Five

         Today I took my last of the antibiotic that had been issued Monday.  And I do feel better.  Possibly up to 80%, but I am weak still.  A jaunt out to the mailbox has worn me out.  I have not had much exercise.  Each time I move just an inch (NOT an exaggeration) I end up coughing uncontrollably.  Never in my life have I gone through so many tissues, rolls of toilet paper and bladder pads in such a short time.  I hope to never have to experience this again. 

           I am grateful that neither Roland nor Jenna has had to endure the same physical pain.  Roland has had a cough and phlegm, but nothing close to where I’ve been.  Jenna has managed to dodge this all together.  Hopefully, it will remain that way.  I think I was sick enough to account for all three of us.

I had been scheduled to work four days this week but ended up not working at all.  I’m grateful to see the shifts had been picked up by another.  

As I had mentioned on Tuesday, I have started a new class this week.  I have participated in the discussion about the brain, finished my assignment on the subject of stress in the workplace (adding a bit about healthcare) and finished my assessment.  As I went over my assignment, I had reminisced about other assignments I’ve turned in and how amateurish they seem for a college level. But then again, I have only six days or less to find references, come up with ideas, and piece it all together so that my words flow smoothly.  And let’s not forget the importance of APA as it often seems to be more important than the contents.

I’ve added my personality to many assignments and used a personal situation in my life to help explain.  Last month’s topic and thus far this month are dealing with health issues with both mom and dad.  The work environment is not even close to stressful when I think about other things that I have dealt with and still continue to deal with.  Perhaps I will share my assignment after it has been graded.

I really am feeling better.  The healing process has seemed to come slowly, but I am guessing that I’m almost there.  The weather has mirrored my own conditions in some ways.  Yesterday there was wind, rain, hail – our first time seeing hail in Oregon – perhaps a little bit of sun.  I don’t really have the sun part down as far as shining.  But I have been hot – even though it has only been 52 – 60 outside.  I am grateful that it hasn’t been warmer.   

Dash # 783 Strange Food

Question:  What’s the Strangest Thing You’ve Ever Tasted?

       When I was on my mission I remember two individuals believing they could outdo each other by eating the grossest thing they could come up with.  Raw egg, entire raw onion, etc.

       I can’t remember which one of them succeeded at the onion, but his breath could be detected from across the room.  I remember when he said his good-byes that his breath made a little girl cry.

        My companion had suggested to the two of them that there was still yet another test.  Her trainer’s boyfriend had been serving a mission in Australia and had sent her a package for Christmas that included goods native to Australia.  Among those “treasures” was a small jar of something called Vegemite – which evidently is used as a spread similar to how American’s used peanut butter.  She said that she and her companion had tasted it but that is was the foulest thing that she had ever put in her mouth.  

             Without knowing anything more about it, both guys who had attempted the onion said they would be able to eat the vegemite. One had even boasted that he would eat an entire vegemite sandwich.  

Thus when we returned to our living quarters, my companion put in a phone call to her former area and asked the missionaries to forward the vegemite to our address in Ripplemead.  It arrived within a week.

The smell was horrid.  I took a very small taste just so I can say that I have truly tasted it.  Somehow that teeny taste made the entire jar smell even more pungent.  It was gross.  I did not care for it.  Neither did any other American taste bud that we had tried it on.

The one who boasted he could eat an entire sandwich said he would rather drink motor oil and did not attempt the sandwich.  Thus the bishop of that area took the sandwich and said he could eat it – which he did.  It took him an entire hour as he made certain that the only taste on his tongue was from the bread itself.

Vegemite turned out to be a really great “gag” as we had used it to play jokes on first an elder in the zone.  We had frosted several brownies with real frosting but had set two aside to cover in vegemite.  All the other elders were enjoying their brownies and he hated the very idea of forcing his brownie to go down but did not want to appear as being rude by not finishing, but laughter got the better of us.  He looked around at each of us and then at the brownies before saying, “it’s just mine, isn’t it?”

Another was when the bishop removed the cream filling from the centers of Oreo type cookies and replaced them with vegemite in order to catch a cookie thief at work.  He said that somebody had been raiding the lunch bags and stealing the desserts.  

Although he had an idea of who the culprit was, he couldn’t prove it.  Thus he took his vegemite filled cookies to work to catch the guy.  He said it was the funniest thing to watch the guy swear in disbelief that there was something wrong with the cookies – only he couldn’t report it because he had been at fault for stealing them.

Years later, when I was trying to get Jenna to stop sucking her finger, I wound a store that specialized in import goods.  I learned that they carried vegemite from Australia.  They also had a marmite from New Zealand.  As it was less costly, I settled for that.  I thought that if I put something that revolting on her finger, she would stop sucking it.  I also knew that it wasn’t going to hurt her.

Marmite backfired!  She LOVED it.  She would eat it by the spoonful.  It was many years before she stopped sucking on her finger.  I don’t remember what bribe I used to get her to stop.  Perhaps she figured it out on her own as her fingers became raw.

I Was Hoping for Urgent Care – Not U-Wait While We Care for Everybody Behind You

WARNING:  Although I do not provide all the details, some of what I’ve written provides a gross picture

      What a glorious Mothers’ Day NOT – on top of the cough and leaky bladder I was having aches and pains all over my body.  I couldn’t get comfortable whereas I could sleep for very long.  I haven’t been restless before when I am sleeping in a reclining position.  At least not that I know of.  Sheets were pulled away from the mattress.  I’d have a pillow fort beneath my feet.  If I had been given the option to die, I would have taken it.

            I’d been scheduled to work both yesterday and today, but took myself out of the subbing position and left a message with the school.  Soon after I left my message, I received a call from another aid seeing if I can work her shift.  When I returned her call and she heard my voice introduce myself, she didn’t even need to explain.  It was obvious that I was not in a position to work for anyone – and yet I had had four opportunities and ended up saying “no” to all four.  I would have worked for free with the behavior challenged youth than to feel the way I was feeling.  I would have rather gone to the dentist or another tubular pregnancy.
           
            Yesterday I called a health center claiming to provide urgent care.  I don’t know what their definition of “urgent” is, but it is definitely NOT the same as mine.  They said they had a 9:40 cancellation.  Okay, that should get me home to attend the live lecture which starts at 11:00.  WRONG!  I would have been home at 10:20 if the appointment had meant anything.

            I counted eight people come in behind me.  Eight! They would come and go. One man came in and they greeted him with “Oh, you’re early.  Your appointment is not until 11:00.”  He was still seen before me!  Crimeny!

            It may not have been so bad nor may I have complained but I was feeling so awful.  There was a sign for coughers and sneezers to please wear a mask, which I did.  Only not fully at first.  I had come in early in order to fill out the paperwork – which actually had not taken that much time.  If I covered my nose, the air would fog up my glasses and I couldn’t see.  But when the paperwork was filled out and hande in, I covered my nose in addition to my mouth.  I had meant to bring in my puzzle book - I mean what person doesn’t have to wait at the doctor’s office?  At least six of the people behind me!  They even took the only other person wearing a mask before they took me.  What gives!  I just wanted a prescription for a Z pack. Why would they not want to take the masked patients first just to send them away all that much sooner?
 

            I went to the desk to ask if I had been forgotten about – I hadn’t.  Not everybody is seen by the same doctor and apparently, I was there for a specific person and not a “next-available” situation.  I visualized Tim Conway waiting on Harvey Korman in a skit that had done on the Carol Burnett show (here).  Meanwhile, I had a wall of mucus between my face and the stupid mask.  I needed to clean myself.  After the nurse had to my weight, height, pulse, etc. I asked if I could take off my mask and clean myself up.  

        She allowed me to do so, but immediately replaced my mucus-filled mask with a fresh one.  I liked the second one better.  I did not have to wait in the patient room near as long as I had in the foyer.  The doctor – who appeared as though he has already and did move a bit quicker than Tim Conway’s character – spent all of fifteen minutes with me – if that.  I have bronchitis, wasn’t breathing correctly (that’s a given.  I think my breathing gets harder as I age;  I think I have small pipes), high pulse rate (I honestly don’t know where that had come from unless it was rage from having had to wait) and a slight fever.

            He called in a prescription for a Z pack and small pills which resembles fish eggs and it’s supposed to suppress my cough – which I suppose it’s done somewhat.  At least the cough no longer seems to connect to my bladder.  Last night my fever broke and must still be breaking as it is less than 55 degrees outside and I feel like I’m in an over.  The clothes I had on this morning have been washed along with my bedding as everything was overly damp this morning.

            My last class started yesterday, but I have not participated in any of it until today.  The subject is the psychology of the brain – or at least our focus for this week’s discussion is on the brain.  Each part of the brain has a name and a function.  Trying to absorb it all is like learning a new language.  I don’t think it’s as complicated as accounting, but by the time I get it figured out, the course will be done. 

            So I am feeling a lot better today than the last three, but still not 100%.  I hope to by tomorrow.  I have two more sub days lined up for Thursday and Friday.  I hope that I will feel up to it.  Right now I do not.  But if I progress as quickly as yesterday versus today, I will be ready to return to work on Thursday.

Sing Me To Sleep

                         

                Before it started to rain in March,

I had a dry cough. 

A very annoying

dry cough

as though I had swallowed

a hair ball and couldn’t get it

out of my system.

 Then the rains came and

gradually my cough left me. 

I was able to go on stage to

perform with the choir on Easter.  

I had forgotten that the primary had

been invited to join us. 

The song was “Gethsemane” (see here).

Our primary kids sound like angels

whenever that song is performed.

My eyes leak whenever

they’re performing. 

I was too choked up to

sing with them. 

After Easter my dry cough returned. 

Gradually it became a wet cough. 

On Tuesday I was sore from head to toe. 

Pain in my cheeks 

pain in my teeth  

terrible pain. 

I shouldn’t have gone to work

 at the school on Wednesday. 

A lot of children commented that

I sounded funny. 

I was feeling better than on Tuesday. 

The coughing and congestion are

not the worst part. 

I know there are some woman who

will relate when I mention that

the cough and bladder somehow

seem to be connected. 

Shooting out the other end

and having to change myself    

It reminds me of the many times that

I have changed baby diapers amazed

at how much the pad will hold.  But still . . .

The last couple of days

I have gone through one and a half

boxes of tissue.

I have missed the Mother’s Day brunch

which I was supposed to conduct and

take part in the program. 

I called the organizer this

morning and said

I wouldn’t be there. 

My right cheekbone feels bruised.  

I feel worse than I look. 

I hope Roland doesn’t get it this bad. 

Thus far Jenna’s been able to dodge

getting this nastiness. 

I pray that she will remain free of this. 

I think this is the worst cold

that I have ever had

in my entire life.

No More Frosting

            When Jenna was younger we used to share food.  She would eat parts that I didn’t especially like and vice-versa.  At this moment I forget all of the food except for eggs and cake.  Jenna could eat yolks only when they were scrambled with whites.  She has finally converted to hard boiled yolks.  Of course, they must be surrounded by the white part.  I can eat the whites though they are not my favorite.  I like runny yolks for dipping my toast or pancake.  I am completely grossed out by any of the white part if not completely cooked.  I would rather have an overcooked egg than an undercooked one.

            As with most kids, Jenna preferred the frosting to the cake itself.  I like to be in control of just how much frosting is going on my piece of cake.  For the most part (unless the layer is really thin) I will scrape off the frosting and so Jenna and I sharing a piece of cake was never a problem.  Jenna would always accuse me of being nuts as “the frosting is the only part worth eating”.

            Although cake is not her preferred method of dessert, she has learned that the cake itself. She says the frosting is too sweet and prefers her cakes without it.  I never thought I’d live to see the day.