Number 1 daughter MADE HONORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Her LOWEST mark was in Physics - a B+!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS is what I always knew she could do! Her mid-term exams were the same - lowest mark was a B.... It just does NOT get any better than this!
Number 1 son.... up and down and up and down .......... when he tries, he does very well... For instance - his Science Fair project - he got a 99! Now, he is doing a book report on a book he actually read (mom was VERY surprised! usually - he reads Cliff notes and calls it a day) on Sojourner Truth. Now, I never expected him to stick to and read the whole thing but he did - and wrote a good description of the book and her life and then a dissertation on "Why Sojourner Truth deserved a book about her". Both were excellent - and I have to admit that in talking with him about this, I learned quite a bit about this extraordinary woman.......... Today - he goes into school and must deliver a speech dressed as Sojourner might have dressed. He must tell about her life in the first person. After our long discussion last night, I think he will do quite well.
The first month at the new company has passed.... it was so very quick. And truthfully, not much has changed... I have picked up one or two new responsibilities, trained new people to take over other functions, been shuffled to a new boss twice, cried thru the exit interview (its a good thing that I had the mute button and did not really need to respond to my director in Atlanta, GA), found my way through yet another payroll system, still winding my way through the benefits system, and waiting for the pension (which they now tell me won't be available till the END of April......slow......very very slow).
I don't know whether I told you this but, in the process of diagnosing my children with ADD/ADHD, our therapist also diagnosed the MotherHenDragon with ADD..... I am on the same medication as my children. This has opened up a huge door for me! It is quite amazing to see what one can do when one can actually concentrate! We had a problem with one of our systems.....took quite a few of us working feverishly to figure out what was wrong. We realized that what was wrong could not be fixed immediately - but, now we needed a workaround in order to finish our process.... The workaround was rather lengthy (by todays standard) and required about 15 scripts - different groups for different pieces of the process. As people were firing verbal specifications at me, I was able to actually code the scripts.... run them, provide answers to questions, numbers and percentages processed and keep track of where we were in the process............ We finished in the early hours of the morning. A day or so later, when I sat back and thought of all that I had been able to accomplish, I was in awe. I know that I could not have done this 6 months ago. The intelligence I have. The focus I did not have. This was very true of my daughter too. In a way it is sad....had I known and been treated all those years ago when I wasn in school, things could have and probably would have turned out very different for me. But, alas, one cannot go backward. Only forwards..... So.....imagine what I can accomplish now?!?!?!?
Other Thread: Sojourner was NOT her slave name as I had thought all these years. She was a Northern slave, born and raised in New York to a couple - Elizabeth and James Baumfree. The name given her at birth was Isabella Baumfree. As most slaves did, she had a hard life, the requisite beatings and breedings - even being a northern slave. But she rose above all of it, eventually gaining her freedom, winning a court battle to gain freedom for her eldest son Peter (sold illegally), owning her own home - not once but SEVERAL times. In an era where everything a woman had was through a man, that this woman, of African descent no less, owned her own home on her own is nothing short of amazing! Further, she was active not only in the anti-slavery moment, but in the womens suffrage movement. I had the opportunity to read her speech, "Ain't I a woman" - quite stirring!
A very long time ago, when I was in school, equal rights was in it infancy and we did not spend a whole lot of time dwelling on what is today called Black History. Obviously, we missed out on a great deal. I am glad that our children today are given the opportunity to read about ALL the people who have made a real difference EQUALLY.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The times that try the patience of women.....
I must preface this with the fact that my mate and I are on the down side of life - he more so than I. We are at the point where the body is deteriorating whether we will it so or not. It is part of the circle of life. My mate more so than I....
Yes, I did say that twice......
One of my mates issues is that he has very little patience. In fact, my children at age 2 had more patience many times than he does. And he is far more high-strung than most women....
Two weeks ago, he was having a bit of difficulty in - ah - having a movement. So, he began the journey through the laxative counter. After no luck with a few things, he tried max-citrate. And made an appointment with a doctor. Well..a physicians assistant. After the max-citrate, he had his movement but felt it was not enough. He went to the doctor with this complaint in mind. They put him on miralax. This was a Friday.
Mind you - the Friday before the VERY FIRST day I had had off in four weeks! (My mantra: I love my job I love my job I love my job I am grateful to have it I love my job.) Needless to say, my plans included cleaning a bit, and taking the camera out for a jaunt and perhaps dining out somewhere or seeing a movie or even curling up with a good book.
Saturday dawns bright and clear. The sun was out. The clouds were light and fluffy. Not a drop of rain or a snowflake in site. I have my coffee and do the requisite puzzle and check email and prep my camera batteries and move the 70-200 to its travel pouch and tour the web for some local beauty to partake in.
As I am getting ready to get into the shower, I hear:
"I think I need to go to the Emergency Room".
"Why, dear?" say I.
"Well,", says he, "I still cannot go to the bathroom. I have been on the Miralax since yesterday afternoon and I cannot go to the bathroom. Look at my eyes - they are turning yellow. I am becoming septic".
(insert very large sigh as well as a desperate attempt not to laugh here).
"Dear," I begin. "What did you have to eat since the last time you went?"
"I have had tea".
"Tea? Just tea?"
"Yes, just tea. I don't dare eat anything".
"Well," I say patiently, "If you have nothing solid in your stomach, you will have no solid stool either. You must actually eat something and then it takes 36 hours for it to completely pass through your digestive system. Thus, you should have no bowel movement today even with the Miralax".
"I'm calling the doctor" he says with a shaking voice.
"Alright dear".
He has a long conversation with the physicians assistant who assures him that all of what I have said is true - however, he still believes there is something wrong. She finally tells him that if he really wants, he can get a fleet enema at the local drug store and anything left will surely exit. He relays this to me. Of course, I run to the local drug store and purchase not one, but TWO of the "Super Fleet with 30% more!" and return home. He looks at them dispassionately. He picks up one and stares at it, then at me, and says, "How do I do this?"
"Excuse me?" I blink "How do you do what?" I say, hoping desperately that he is NOT asking me what I think he is.......
"this" he says as he thrusts the green box towards my face.
(insert groan here)
"Well, I believe you have to read the directions".
Now, folks, I have been in the nursing field - and yes, I have had the experience of assisting in this procedure. It really is not that difficult. Messy yes. But not difficult. Not even self-administered.
So, he takes the box into the bathroom and shuts the door. And I wander around picking up this and that and listen for the sounds which tell me he has figured out the directions.
Time passes....
Those sounds never came.
After a few moments, he comes out of the bathroom and says, "I can't do this. " I shake my head. I know whats coming next. I wait with baited breath for the dreaded words....... "You need to take me to the Emergency room". AAAAAAAAARRRGH! HE SAID IT!!!!!!!!!
"Dear, I want you to think about this very carefully." I spent the next 5 minutes dissertating on the why's and wherefores of going versus not going in to the local ER.... the time, the expense, the non-necessity............ I finally end my sermon with, "I am going to take a shower. If, when I am done, you still insist this is necessary, I will take you."
Of course, 45 minutes later, he still felt it was necessary.
So much for exploring the state beauty....
We spent the rest of that gorgeous Valentines Day in the Emergency Room waiting on various tests and x-rays. We had a very nice woman doctor that I would unhesitatingly both recommend and, if she had a private practice, would go to.
Side note: If you ever have the misfortune to have to be in a hospital with a sinus infection - it is a wise thing to bring your own tissues. The hospital only provides sandpaper in little uncolored boxes marked "tissue wipes" with which to blow ones nose. The swelling has abated somewhat in the days since this visit.
Back to the main story:
After much testing, they decide that he has absolutely NO blockage and NO feces left anywhere. None. Thus no chance of sepsis. They think that he might have a small pouch of diverticular disease or perhaps colitis. Neither, of course, is serious if treated properly. They put him on two antibiotics and discharge him giving him the standard line about following up with his own GI group.
We got home around 10:30 that night.
And now he is huffing and puffing because he is MAD.
Mad?
HE is mad???????
Wait....we just spent all day in the ER for something that was NOT an emergency and he is MAD????
I'm sure you are dying to know why..................... He is mad because they did NOT make a complete and absolute diagnosis and he feels that they should have admitted him!
Wait...so, let me get this straight.........you just took up a bed in an emergency room for an ENTIRE saturday with a problem that was NOT an emergency, not even urgent care - on a SATURDAY and you expected them to put you through ALL the tests known to man? Um...no. The point of the emergency room is to deal with EMERGENCY and TRAUMA cases and URGENT CARE. The definition of which is THINGS REQUIRING IMMEDIATE ATTENTION and WITHOUT CARE will unequivocably and almost immediately change a persons life for the worse and/or kill them. They need to do enough to make this determination and then turn over your bed for a patient who truly needs it. But he was mad. And put out. And walked around for almost two hours muttering to himself in his anger.
I went to bed.
Sunday dawns and apparently he has, I think, seen the error of the previous day. We go run errands and shop and he is fine. Attitude is good, he eats....stomach friendly foods - and this is a good thing. And then Monday comes...............
And now, he is dying.
Yes - dying.
And no one is paying attention to him while he dies.
"You think this is not serious!" he rages. "When I am dead, you must take all my money and make sure that I am autopsied and then THEY will see what un-diagnosed infection killed me!"
I did not feel that this was a good time to point out that the infection would have to be immune to cipro and flagyl in order to kill him as he had been on the combination of the two for two days.
He paces and paces and calls the doctors office frantically insisting that the doctor in the ER said he should have more tests. She did not. She said what all doctors MUST say .... "Follow up with your doctor". Again, he says his eyeballs are turning yellow and he is becomming septic and can't I please call the doctor because he is dying and in pain and they won't return his call! He ate.... yesterday. Today, he has diarhea. He walks from downstairs to upstairs pacing and pacing. I hear this through several conference calls...... I am patently ignoring this.... I figure if one can pace upstairs and downstairs and up again, has a normal complexion and body temperature, and is on TWO heavy-duty antibiotics, they are not about to pass from this life anytime too soon. The pain he feels is in an area that is not indicative of any immediate threat to life an limb - nor, is it bad enough to keep him from standing or walking or sitting....nor is he reaching for any kind of pain medication: and I have PLENTY of acetomenophen which is about the safest there is. Thus, I know that there is no immediate danger.
However, I do not deal well with histrionics and neuroses.
So, I call the doctor hoping that someone in their office is capable of handling a patient suffering from an attack of dramaqueenitis. Around 4pm, the doctor calls and speaks to me momentarily before speaking to him. I listened to his voice. Let me tell you - this mans voice could calm my bi-polar daughter....it is melodic, quiet, authoritative, and relaxing all at once.Perfect!...he spoke with my man for the better part of 30 minutes answering very gently and intelligently every single question the man posed. When the man got off the phone, he was the calmest he had been in a week and a half and I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that since all the questions had been answered and some action was being taken (more bloodwork scheduled for the next day) that the worst was over and some semblance of normalcy restored.
Obviously, I was delusional.
By Tuesday night, he was back to his normal neurotic self.
"Why can't I have a bowel movement?!?!?!"
"Because you haven't eaten anything, dear"
"Yes I did"
"When?"
"An hour ago - I had chicken soup with the vegetables and chicken!"
"Ah...an hour ago?"
"Yes..."
"Dear, the soup has not even reached your stomach yet! It takes 36 hours for complete digestion to occur. This means that it must go from your mouth to your stomach, be broken down into various components, the useful ones distributed to the various organs, and the non-useful ones sent to the right areas for evacuation. This is not a 1-hour fotomat - it is your STOMACH!"
He angrily stomps away. I have not told him what he wanted to hear.
Now, the doctor had put him on a liquid diet and small doses of the miralax. The thinking was to keep the potential stool soft in case there was a small blockage. The man, of course, is now convinced that if he eats any solid food, it will immediately lodge against this blockage causing an immediate and life-threatening obstruction.
And so my entire week went. Vascillating back and forth between the extremes.....him wanting to eat and being sure that he should not.
I went to my girlfriends on Friday night and had pizza with her and her mate.... mostly to escape the house of doom and gloom.
Yesterday I worked all day.
I am sure if I were not working, I would have spent yet another day in the ER ... that dreaded word was mentioned a few times.
This brings us to today.
Sunday.
I am, in theory, off today.
Free to relax.
Clean house.
Play with my camera.
Perhaps.............
Yes, I did say that twice......
One of my mates issues is that he has very little patience. In fact, my children at age 2 had more patience many times than he does. And he is far more high-strung than most women....
Two weeks ago, he was having a bit of difficulty in - ah - having a movement. So, he began the journey through the laxative counter. After no luck with a few things, he tried max-citrate. And made an appointment with a doctor. Well..a physicians assistant. After the max-citrate, he had his movement but felt it was not enough. He went to the doctor with this complaint in mind. They put him on miralax. This was a Friday.
Mind you - the Friday before the VERY FIRST day I had had off in four weeks! (My mantra: I love my job I love my job I love my job I am grateful to have it I love my job.) Needless to say, my plans included cleaning a bit, and taking the camera out for a jaunt and perhaps dining out somewhere or seeing a movie or even curling up with a good book.
Saturday dawns bright and clear. The sun was out. The clouds were light and fluffy. Not a drop of rain or a snowflake in site. I have my coffee and do the requisite puzzle and check email and prep my camera batteries and move the 70-200 to its travel pouch and tour the web for some local beauty to partake in.
As I am getting ready to get into the shower, I hear:
"I think I need to go to the Emergency Room".
"Why, dear?" say I.
"Well,", says he, "I still cannot go to the bathroom. I have been on the Miralax since yesterday afternoon and I cannot go to the bathroom. Look at my eyes - they are turning yellow. I am becoming septic".
(insert very large sigh as well as a desperate attempt not to laugh here).
"Dear," I begin. "What did you have to eat since the last time you went?"
"I have had tea".
"Tea? Just tea?"
"Yes, just tea. I don't dare eat anything".
"Well," I say patiently, "If you have nothing solid in your stomach, you will have no solid stool either. You must actually eat something and then it takes 36 hours for it to completely pass through your digestive system. Thus, you should have no bowel movement today even with the Miralax".
"I'm calling the doctor" he says with a shaking voice.
"Alright dear".
He has a long conversation with the physicians assistant who assures him that all of what I have said is true - however, he still believes there is something wrong. She finally tells him that if he really wants, he can get a fleet enema at the local drug store and anything left will surely exit. He relays this to me. Of course, I run to the local drug store and purchase not one, but TWO of the "Super Fleet with 30% more!" and return home. He looks at them dispassionately. He picks up one and stares at it, then at me, and says, "How do I do this?"
"Excuse me?" I blink "How do you do what?" I say, hoping desperately that he is NOT asking me what I think he is.......
"this" he says as he thrusts the green box towards my face.
(insert groan here)
"Well, I believe you have to read the directions".
Now, folks, I have been in the nursing field - and yes, I have had the experience of assisting in this procedure. It really is not that difficult. Messy yes. But not difficult. Not even self-administered.
So, he takes the box into the bathroom and shuts the door. And I wander around picking up this and that and listen for the sounds which tell me he has figured out the directions.
Time passes....
Those sounds never came.
After a few moments, he comes out of the bathroom and says, "I can't do this. " I shake my head. I know whats coming next. I wait with baited breath for the dreaded words....... "You need to take me to the Emergency room". AAAAAAAAARRRGH! HE SAID IT!!!!!!!!!
"Dear, I want you to think about this very carefully." I spent the next 5 minutes dissertating on the why's and wherefores of going versus not going in to the local ER.... the time, the expense, the non-necessity............ I finally end my sermon with, "I am going to take a shower. If, when I am done, you still insist this is necessary, I will take you."
Of course, 45 minutes later, he still felt it was necessary.
So much for exploring the state beauty....
We spent the rest of that gorgeous Valentines Day in the Emergency Room waiting on various tests and x-rays. We had a very nice woman doctor that I would unhesitatingly both recommend and, if she had a private practice, would go to.
Side note: If you ever have the misfortune to have to be in a hospital with a sinus infection - it is a wise thing to bring your own tissues. The hospital only provides sandpaper in little uncolored boxes marked "tissue wipes" with which to blow ones nose. The swelling has abated somewhat in the days since this visit.
Back to the main story:
After much testing, they decide that he has absolutely NO blockage and NO feces left anywhere. None. Thus no chance of sepsis. They think that he might have a small pouch of diverticular disease or perhaps colitis. Neither, of course, is serious if treated properly. They put him on two antibiotics and discharge him giving him the standard line about following up with his own GI group.
We got home around 10:30 that night.
And now he is huffing and puffing because he is MAD.
Mad?
HE is mad???????
Wait....we just spent all day in the ER for something that was NOT an emergency and he is MAD????
I'm sure you are dying to know why..................... He is mad because they did NOT make a complete and absolute diagnosis and he feels that they should have admitted him!
Wait...so, let me get this straight.........you just took up a bed in an emergency room for an ENTIRE saturday with a problem that was NOT an emergency, not even urgent care - on a SATURDAY and you expected them to put you through ALL the tests known to man? Um...no. The point of the emergency room is to deal with EMERGENCY and TRAUMA cases and URGENT CARE. The definition of which is THINGS REQUIRING IMMEDIATE ATTENTION and WITHOUT CARE will unequivocably and almost immediately change a persons life for the worse and/or kill them. They need to do enough to make this determination and then turn over your bed for a patient who truly needs it. But he was mad. And put out. And walked around for almost two hours muttering to himself in his anger.
I went to bed.
Sunday dawns and apparently he has, I think, seen the error of the previous day. We go run errands and shop and he is fine. Attitude is good, he eats....stomach friendly foods - and this is a good thing. And then Monday comes...............
And now, he is dying.
Yes - dying.
And no one is paying attention to him while he dies.
"You think this is not serious!" he rages. "When I am dead, you must take all my money and make sure that I am autopsied and then THEY will see what un-diagnosed infection killed me!"
I did not feel that this was a good time to point out that the infection would have to be immune to cipro and flagyl in order to kill him as he had been on the combination of the two for two days.
He paces and paces and calls the doctors office frantically insisting that the doctor in the ER said he should have more tests. She did not. She said what all doctors MUST say .... "Follow up with your doctor". Again, he says his eyeballs are turning yellow and he is becomming septic and can't I please call the doctor because he is dying and in pain and they won't return his call! He ate.... yesterday. Today, he has diarhea. He walks from downstairs to upstairs pacing and pacing. I hear this through several conference calls...... I am patently ignoring this.... I figure if one can pace upstairs and downstairs and up again, has a normal complexion and body temperature, and is on TWO heavy-duty antibiotics, they are not about to pass from this life anytime too soon. The pain he feels is in an area that is not indicative of any immediate threat to life an limb - nor, is it bad enough to keep him from standing or walking or sitting....nor is he reaching for any kind of pain medication: and I have PLENTY of acetomenophen which is about the safest there is. Thus, I know that there is no immediate danger.
However, I do not deal well with histrionics and neuroses.
So, I call the doctor hoping that someone in their office is capable of handling a patient suffering from an attack of dramaqueenitis. Around 4pm, the doctor calls and speaks to me momentarily before speaking to him. I listened to his voice. Let me tell you - this mans voice could calm my bi-polar daughter....it is melodic, quiet, authoritative, and relaxing all at once.Perfect!...he spoke with my man for the better part of 30 minutes answering very gently and intelligently every single question the man posed. When the man got off the phone, he was the calmest he had been in a week and a half and I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that since all the questions had been answered and some action was being taken (more bloodwork scheduled for the next day) that the worst was over and some semblance of normalcy restored.
Obviously, I was delusional.
By Tuesday night, he was back to his normal neurotic self.
"Why can't I have a bowel movement?!?!?!"
"Because you haven't eaten anything, dear"
"Yes I did"
"When?"
"An hour ago - I had chicken soup with the vegetables and chicken!"
"Ah...an hour ago?"
"Yes..."
"Dear, the soup has not even reached your stomach yet! It takes 36 hours for complete digestion to occur. This means that it must go from your mouth to your stomach, be broken down into various components, the useful ones distributed to the various organs, and the non-useful ones sent to the right areas for evacuation. This is not a 1-hour fotomat - it is your STOMACH!"
He angrily stomps away. I have not told him what he wanted to hear.
Now, the doctor had put him on a liquid diet and small doses of the miralax. The thinking was to keep the potential stool soft in case there was a small blockage. The man, of course, is now convinced that if he eats any solid food, it will immediately lodge against this blockage causing an immediate and life-threatening obstruction.
And so my entire week went. Vascillating back and forth between the extremes.....him wanting to eat and being sure that he should not.
I went to my girlfriends on Friday night and had pizza with her and her mate.... mostly to escape the house of doom and gloom.
Yesterday I worked all day.
I am sure if I were not working, I would have spent yet another day in the ER ... that dreaded word was mentioned a few times.
This brings us to today.
Sunday.
I am, in theory, off today.
Free to relax.
Clean house.
Play with my camera.
Perhaps.............
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