I suffered a fall in my house last Tuesday. I've heard that expression before and always thought it to be a strange statement but, take my word for it, if you fall down nine out of thirteen non-carpeted steps and land upside down on a non-carpeted landing, you really do suffer.
I'm really not sure what happened. My daughter said our resident ghost pushed me. Nevertheless, in one instant I was gingerly stepping down the stairs and in the next instant, I was snowballing down the stairs, hitting every inch of each step with every part of my body. Hoooleee cow; does that ever hurt!
Fortunately, The Frontiersman was in the kitchen as I made my grand descend down the stairs and somehow, by the grace of God, he actually heard me tumbling down.
In his never ending quest to be my helpful, loving All American Hero, he rushed over to me (while I was still trying to figure out what the hell happened and what planet I finally landed on), scooped me up under my arms and dragged me backwards, bumping my butt on each of the remaining two steps.
Once I was finally on the carpeted floor, in one fell swoop, The Frontiersman hoisted me up to a standing position and I immediately responded by passing out, so he tells me. Not to be deterred, he hoisted me to my feet again and I heard him say (from someplace far away), "We've got to get you to the couch." I was dazed and had no strength, but I was trying to find enough strength in my Jell-O legs to walk as he half-dragged me over to the couch. He plopped me down on the couch and hurried to get a blanket for me.
As soon as he covered me up, I said, "I have to go to the bathroom." One of us got the blanket off me and he helped me into the bathroom. After depositing me on the 'throne', I asked him to go upstairs and get some clothes for me.
Again I passed out, this time falling off the toilet. I awoke in a heap on the bathroom floor. I began calling out to The Frontiersman. "Help...helloooo...help." In my fog, I realized he didn't hear my pitiful cries so, somehow I managed to put one hand on the edge of the bathtub and one hand on the wall and haul myself back up and onto the toilet again.
Just as The Frontiersman walked in with my clothes, I greeted him with a projectile upchuck. Talk about a look of surprise. At any rate, I somehow got cleaned up; I don't even remember it but, I was back on the couch and our son, The Computer Genius, was standing in front of me, looking bewildered.
"What happened", he asked, looking dazed himself. "I fell down the stairs", I replied. Jason's thoughtful, intelligent remark..."You better be more careful." I guess that's the best any college kid could do at eight-thirty in the morning.
The Frontiersman was on the phone with 911, The Computer Genius was putting his shoes on and they tell me I was getting dressed. I really don't remember.
In the blink of an eye the ambulance crew was walking through my front door. There were suddenly four people asking me questions and checking out all my cuts and bruises. In a short period of time I was strapped onto a backboard with a cervical collar secured on my neck and people were lifting me onto a gurney and wheeling me out to the waiting ambulance.
I can't say enough good things about the volunteer ambulance crews and especially the crew that showed up to help me out on Tuesday morning. They were absolutely wonderful. They were professional, kind and caring. Each one of them looked like an angel to me.
After arriving at the hospital, the paramedic gave my information to the nurses and told me they were leaving me in good hands. I had no doubt.
Once the nurses completed their evaluation of my pitiful, beat up body, a wonderful doctor came in and talked to me for a bit and then told me he was sending me for a CT scan of my head and neck. I was wondering if they would see the strange little elves that live in my head and make me say and do the crazy things I do.
Thank God for my hard German head. Although battered and bruised, my head and neck were fine. It has taken a few days for the dizziness and headache to dissipate but, other than that, I don't expect any lasting effects. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
Dr. LaMotte came back after he got the results of the CT scan and unstrapped me from the backboard and began to roll me onto the gurney. I let out a howl that was probably heard all over the hospital.
"What's hurting, what's hurting", he asked. I told him it was my left ankle and mid back.. He decided to send me back to radiology for x-rays.
After that, my daughter and son came in to see me. My daughter was very worried because Jason had called her and told her to meet him and their dad at the ER because I had fallen down the stairs and was being taken there by ambulance. Once she had the opportunity to see I was still pretty much in one piece and in relatively good spirits, relief came over her face.
After we talked for a few minutes, Roxanne asked Jason to go find their dad. She needed to get back home and take care of her responsibilities there.
The doctor returned to let us know I have a broken toe and that my ankle was possibly also fractured. My back was just badly bruised.
The nurse came in and gave me a hypodermic of something in my IV for pain. She then removed the IV and brought in the cutest, lightest little cast for my ankle and then a pair of crutches. She showed me how to use them, had me sign a bunch of papers and told us I was free to go.
The Frontiersman went out and brought the car up to the door and Jason stayed with me while I hobbled, on crutches, down the hallway and out the door.
During the past few days, I've had the opportunity to reflect on my accident and realize how blessed I am that, although I'm pretty beat up and a little broken, it could have been so much worse. God is very good to me. I'm blessed to have a husband who acted so quickly to help me. I'm blessed to live in a community where neighbors care about each other and come quickly when their help is needed. I'm blessed that we have excellent hospitals in the area, staffed with professionals who really know what they're doing and I'm very blessed to have wonderful family and friends who love me and take good care of me.
Something like this makes you stop and appreciate the blessings you have been given.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
OVER THE HILL
I've come to accept that I'm over the hill. I don't like it, but sometimes you have to give in even if you don't like the end result.
The Frontiersman has, for many years, been trying to convince me that we're getting a little long in the tooth, but until today, I wasn't willing to accept it.
I had a very busy morning today but the afternoon was lost to me. About one o'clock I sat down to watch Fox News Channel for a few minutes. I had every intention of getting back to work in about half an hour. Ha! I fell asleep...sitting up. Now, I know old people do that, but I'm talking old.
I've noticed a few other stealth indications of age creeping into my life and if you're part of the Baby Boomers Generation, you can just hum along as I mention them. If you're younger, just wait. God has a strange sense of humor.
My son-in-law called last night at nine o'clock and asked if he woke me.
Old people always seem to watch the news channels on TV. If you come to our house any time of day or night, turn the TV on and voila. Fox News Channel.
I was in a grocery store last week (not the ghetto bodega), and a song from the '60s came on the sound system. I knew every word of the song. I can walk from the living room to the kitchen and, once I get there, I can't remember why I went there, but I can remember every word to a song I haven't heard in thirty years.
Ok. I admit it. I really am a recycled teenager. That's one way to explain the way my brain works.
The Frontiersman has, for many years, been trying to convince me that we're getting a little long in the tooth, but until today, I wasn't willing to accept it.
I had a very busy morning today but the afternoon was lost to me. About one o'clock I sat down to watch Fox News Channel for a few minutes. I had every intention of getting back to work in about half an hour. Ha! I fell asleep...sitting up. Now, I know old people do that, but I'm talking old.
I've noticed a few other stealth indications of age creeping into my life and if you're part of the Baby Boomers Generation, you can just hum along as I mention them. If you're younger, just wait. God has a strange sense of humor.
My son-in-law called last night at nine o'clock and asked if he woke me.
Old people always seem to watch the news channels on TV. If you come to our house any time of day or night, turn the TV on and voila. Fox News Channel.
I was in a grocery store last week (not the ghetto bodega), and a song from the '60s came on the sound system. I knew every word of the song. I can walk from the living room to the kitchen and, once I get there, I can't remember why I went there, but I can remember every word to a song I haven't heard in thirty years.
Ok. I admit it. I really am a recycled teenager. That's one way to explain the way my brain works.
Monday, March 16, 2009
GOD HAS A STRANGE SENSE OF HUMOR
I had the flu this week. Thank God I’m on forced retirement because I couldn’t have gotten up to go to work even if the Chippendale Dancers were going to be there at lunchtime.
I woke up Monday morning feeling like an elephant sat on me during the night. I managed to get up and scuff my way to the bathroom. I stopped to look at myself in the mirror. Why do I do that? I know how pitiful I look when I’m sick. It’s like it’s not official unless I look at myself. My complexion was the color of a new pair of ecru spring shoes. My eye sockets resembled that of a character from Night of the Living Dead. My eyes had dark circles that drooped down to my knees. As if that weren’t bad enough, the entire crown of my hair was sticking up like the comb of a rooster. God has a strange sense of humor.
As I was sitting on the commode with my eyes closed to keep from noticing that the room was orbiting as nicely as any planet, I then began to feel nauseas. Of course nausea would hit me at that moment. The waste basket was wa-a-a-a-ay across the room, next to the sink. Very funny, God.
“Help”, I called, hoping The Frontiersman would hear me. “Help. Somebody. Anybody.” Did I mention The Frontiersman is nearly deaf? Very funny, God.
I got up from the throne and carefully guided myself the one-half mile or so to the other side of the bathroom, by holding onto the wall. I grabbed up the waste basket and inched my way back to the bedroom. I think the entire trip took about four hours. By that time, my head was spinning, my body was hurting and I was freezing.
Once back in my bedroom, I very carefully placed the waste basket next to my bed and climbed into my warm, cozy bed. I buried my head into my soft, cloud-like pillows, pulled my nice, warm blankets up around my chin and closed my eyes.
Have you ever been almost asleep, but felt like someone was watching you? I slowly opened one painful eyelid. What a mistake. My two little Miniature Pinschers were standing on the bed, wagging their entire bodies and smiling at me. Very funny, God.
“Lie down”, I said with as much sternness as I could muster. “I’m sick. I’m going to sleep.” Now, I don’t know if dogs really understand English or not, but they weren’t buying it. Just as I closed my eye, they moved in closer and began licking my face. I think they were actually trying to pry my eyes open.
“Stop it. Go to sleep.” I called out, weakly. More licking and now they were also beginning to sing at me.
“Dan”, I called out to The Frontiersman. No answer. “Dan.” No answer. Was I really calling out to him, or was it just a dream? I dragged myself out of my cozy little cave and, with my little dogs at my heels, I called down the stairway, “Dan.” I knew he was downstairs because I could hear the TV and I heard him stirring coffee. “Dan.” Nothing. Did I mention he’s almost deaf?
We recently put in a new staircase but we don’t have the railing up yet, so I very carefully descended the stairs while holding onto the wall. This was the first time since we put the stairs in that they gyrated like the ones in a fun house. Ok, God. This is not funny.
As I reached the bottom step and turned, looking into the living room, guess who was sitting in his easy chair, watching TV and drinking coffee?
Me: “Dan. I’ve been calling you.”
Dan: “Huh?”
Me: “I’ve been calling you.”
Dan: “Oh. What?”
Me: “The dogs want to go out.”
Get this. “Ok”, he said, “Let them out.”
I was trying to maintain my naturally calm, gentle demeanor in spite of the fact that I might upchuck at any second.
“I’m sick”, I started, very composed. “The dogs want to go out. I’m sick. I want to go back to bed.”
“You’re sick?” He asked, sounding amazed. “What’s wrong?”
Now, I realize The Frontiersman also wears glasses, but he was looking right at me.
“Are you looking at me?” I asked. I crept my way over to him, holding onto my head to keep it from breaking into pieces and falling to the floor. “My head hurts. My body hurts. I’m nauseas.” I stated. “I’m going to bed.”
“You don’t look good,” he said. (Can you believe it?) I slowly turned around and made my way back to the stairs, hoping to get back in bed and sleep for the next week.
“Hey, Shar”, I heard from what seemed to be coming from a tunnel somewhere. It’s ok, I thought. I’m just dreaming. Suddenly, I felt a hand on me, rocking me back and forth as if a volcano had exploded under my bed.
“Shar.” I slowly opened one eyelid. The Frontiersman was standing over me. “What?” I asked. “What’s for dinner?” The Frontiersman asked as if he expected me to jump up and start cooking. “Dinner, what time is it? I just went to sleep, didn’t I?”
“It’s five-o’clock”, he announced, as if he were the town crier.
“What would you like for dinner?” I asked, opening my painful eyelids.
“I was thinking some pasta with sauce and meatballs would be good”, he replied.
“Good”, I said. “Clean up when you’re finished, and bring me some chicken broth.”
“Right”, he said, disappointedly. He can’t be serious, I thought.
I don’t remember if he brought me any broth or not, but I really didn’t care. I just wanted sleep.
I woke up Monday morning feeling like an elephant sat on me during the night. I managed to get up and scuff my way to the bathroom. I stopped to look at myself in the mirror. Why do I do that? I know how pitiful I look when I’m sick. It’s like it’s not official unless I look at myself. My complexion was the color of a new pair of ecru spring shoes. My eye sockets resembled that of a character from Night of the Living Dead. My eyes had dark circles that drooped down to my knees. As if that weren’t bad enough, the entire crown of my hair was sticking up like the comb of a rooster. God has a strange sense of humor.
As I was sitting on the commode with my eyes closed to keep from noticing that the room was orbiting as nicely as any planet, I then began to feel nauseas. Of course nausea would hit me at that moment. The waste basket was wa-a-a-a-ay across the room, next to the sink. Very funny, God.
“Help”, I called, hoping The Frontiersman would hear me. “Help. Somebody. Anybody.” Did I mention The Frontiersman is nearly deaf? Very funny, God.
I got up from the throne and carefully guided myself the one-half mile or so to the other side of the bathroom, by holding onto the wall. I grabbed up the waste basket and inched my way back to the bedroom. I think the entire trip took about four hours. By that time, my head was spinning, my body was hurting and I was freezing.
Once back in my bedroom, I very carefully placed the waste basket next to my bed and climbed into my warm, cozy bed. I buried my head into my soft, cloud-like pillows, pulled my nice, warm blankets up around my chin and closed my eyes.
Have you ever been almost asleep, but felt like someone was watching you? I slowly opened one painful eyelid. What a mistake. My two little Miniature Pinschers were standing on the bed, wagging their entire bodies and smiling at me. Very funny, God.
“Lie down”, I said with as much sternness as I could muster. “I’m sick. I’m going to sleep.” Now, I don’t know if dogs really understand English or not, but they weren’t buying it. Just as I closed my eye, they moved in closer and began licking my face. I think they were actually trying to pry my eyes open.
“Stop it. Go to sleep.” I called out, weakly. More licking and now they were also beginning to sing at me.
“Dan”, I called out to The Frontiersman. No answer. “Dan.” No answer. Was I really calling out to him, or was it just a dream? I dragged myself out of my cozy little cave and, with my little dogs at my heels, I called down the stairway, “Dan.” I knew he was downstairs because I could hear the TV and I heard him stirring coffee. “Dan.” Nothing. Did I mention he’s almost deaf?
We recently put in a new staircase but we don’t have the railing up yet, so I very carefully descended the stairs while holding onto the wall. This was the first time since we put the stairs in that they gyrated like the ones in a fun house. Ok, God. This is not funny.
As I reached the bottom step and turned, looking into the living room, guess who was sitting in his easy chair, watching TV and drinking coffee?
Me: “Dan. I’ve been calling you.”
Dan: “Huh?”
Me: “I’ve been calling you.”
Dan: “Oh. What?”
Me: “The dogs want to go out.”
Get this. “Ok”, he said, “Let them out.”
I was trying to maintain my naturally calm, gentle demeanor in spite of the fact that I might upchuck at any second.
“I’m sick”, I started, very composed. “The dogs want to go out. I’m sick. I want to go back to bed.”
“You’re sick?” He asked, sounding amazed. “What’s wrong?”
Now, I realize The Frontiersman also wears glasses, but he was looking right at me.
“Are you looking at me?” I asked. I crept my way over to him, holding onto my head to keep it from breaking into pieces and falling to the floor. “My head hurts. My body hurts. I’m nauseas.” I stated. “I’m going to bed.”
“You don’t look good,” he said. (Can you believe it?) I slowly turned around and made my way back to the stairs, hoping to get back in bed and sleep for the next week.
“Hey, Shar”, I heard from what seemed to be coming from a tunnel somewhere. It’s ok, I thought. I’m just dreaming. Suddenly, I felt a hand on me, rocking me back and forth as if a volcano had exploded under my bed.
“Shar.” I slowly opened one eyelid. The Frontiersman was standing over me. “What?” I asked. “What’s for dinner?” The Frontiersman asked as if he expected me to jump up and start cooking. “Dinner, what time is it? I just went to sleep, didn’t I?”
“It’s five-o’clock”, he announced, as if he were the town crier.
“What would you like for dinner?” I asked, opening my painful eyelids.
“I was thinking some pasta with sauce and meatballs would be good”, he replied.
“Good”, I said. “Clean up when you’re finished, and bring me some chicken broth.”
“Right”, he said, disappointedly. He can’t be serious, I thought.
I don’t remember if he brought me any broth or not, but I really didn’t care. I just wanted sleep.
******** ******** ********
I opened my eyes and, miraculously, they almost didn’t hurt. Slowly, I sat up on the edge of my bed. The room wasn’t spinning anymore! I stood up and looked at the clock. It was six thirty, and either getting dark out, or it was getting light.
I got back into bed, propped up my pillows behind my back and sat there listening. After a few minutes, I noticed it was getting lighter outside. I heard faint sounds coming from downstairs. Just then, my little dogs dashed up the stairway, into the bedroom and jumped into bed. All at once, I was being showered with so much love you’d think I’d been away for a week.
I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and then The Frontiersman appeared in the doorway. “How are you?” he asked. “I feel much better”, I replied. “Good”, he said, “you’ve been sleeping for almost two days and I’ve run out of meal ideas.” Very funny, God.
I opened my eyes and, miraculously, they almost didn’t hurt. Slowly, I sat up on the edge of my bed. The room wasn’t spinning anymore! I stood up and looked at the clock. It was six thirty, and either getting dark out, or it was getting light.
I got back into bed, propped up my pillows behind my back and sat there listening. After a few minutes, I noticed it was getting lighter outside. I heard faint sounds coming from downstairs. Just then, my little dogs dashed up the stairway, into the bedroom and jumped into bed. All at once, I was being showered with so much love you’d think I’d been away for a week.
I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and then The Frontiersman appeared in the doorway. “How are you?” he asked. “I feel much better”, I replied. “Good”, he said, “you’ve been sleeping for almost two days and I’ve run out of meal ideas.” Very funny, God.
HAVE YOU EVER HEARD COYOTES AT NIGHT?
Ok, so I’m not what you’d call a country gal. I grew up in a small town and moved around a lot, living most of my life in towns and small cities. I’ve had my fair share of outdoor experiences though. Somehow this urban/suburban gal met and married a Davy Crockett wanna be so, when I was young and adventurous, The Frontiersman was actually able to convince me to go fishing with him. One time, he even talked me into going squirrel hunting with him. I ended up crying when he finally shot a squirrel, so we decided I’m not really a good hunting partner for him.
We did camp a lot when our kids were young. We started out in a basic tent. If it was good enough for the Davy Crockett types, it was good enough for us, right? Right…until the night the monsoon came. That was the last time I’ve ever seen the inside of a tent, thank God! After that, The Frontiersman knew our camping days were over unless we bought a camper.
For several weeks, we checked out nearby campgrounds, and finally found a small camper that we could afford. For the next several summers, our vacations were spent camping. (Oh the stories I could tell you.)
From 1995-2006 I managed to drag The Frontiersman back to civilization; we lived in Northern Virginia. Two years ago, he decided it was time to think about retirement and getting back to nature. Here we go again. We bought a house on 24 acres of land in a very rural area of Western New York State.
In the 2 1/2 years we’ve lived here, I’ve seen an array of small wild animals, lots of deer and even a real, live black bear. Last night was the icing on the cake. The Frontiersman had fallen asleep down stairs, our college-age son was in his man cave in the basement, playing a game on the Internet, with his ear buds on. I was in bed, upstairs, with the TV on. I had been working on homework for the business class I’m taking, but was nearly asleep when I heard the most ungodly sound I’ve ever heard. I sat bolt upright. At first, in my grogginess, I thought it was something on TV, but quickly realized I had a comedy show on, so it wasn’t likely those mournful cries came from the TV. As I became more fully awake, the sound seemed to encompass the house. Did we suddenly have very loud, very sad ghosts?
We have two little Miniature Pinschers who were both asleep at the end of the bed, under the covers. As the reverberating sound continued, they scampered out from under the covers and sat at the end of the bed, hugging each other, with their ears pricked up, worriedly glancing from side-to-side, as the chorus of howling continued.
Have you ever heard coyotes at night? The sound of their baying is so haunting. It sounds so close and so far away at the same time.
Since we live in a hollow, it had the effect of surround sound in a movie theater. I swear, it scared me so much I thought the coyotes were coming through my upstairs window at any second. I couldn’t even immediately think what to do (I know you want to be near me in an emergency).
As my senses returned, I darted down the stairs to find The Frontiersman snoring to the point of sucking the walls in, so I continued down the basement stairs. My son, the computer genius, was completely involved in the game he was playing and didn’t hear a thing. How can you not hear a sound that is making the entire house vibrate? I called to him in a breathless, scared-to-death voice and asked him if he had heard the coyotes. He shot me a look that not only told me he hadn’t heard them, but that he thought I had been dreaming. He did, however, manage to unglue himself from his chair and meet me at the open inside basement door. We stood there for a few seconds, listening for that frightening sound, but it didn’t come again. I instructed him to close the door and to put a nearby 2″ x 4′ piece of wood under the door knob to ensure the coyotes weren’t going to come barreling through.
All I can tell you is that if I never hear the sound of coyotes in the night again, I’ll be happy as a clam.
If you’ve had this experience, tell me about it.
We did camp a lot when our kids were young. We started out in a basic tent. If it was good enough for the Davy Crockett types, it was good enough for us, right? Right…until the night the monsoon came. That was the last time I’ve ever seen the inside of a tent, thank God! After that, The Frontiersman knew our camping days were over unless we bought a camper.
For several weeks, we checked out nearby campgrounds, and finally found a small camper that we could afford. For the next several summers, our vacations were spent camping. (Oh the stories I could tell you.)
From 1995-2006 I managed to drag The Frontiersman back to civilization; we lived in Northern Virginia. Two years ago, he decided it was time to think about retirement and getting back to nature. Here we go again. We bought a house on 24 acres of land in a very rural area of Western New York State.
In the 2 1/2 years we’ve lived here, I’ve seen an array of small wild animals, lots of deer and even a real, live black bear. Last night was the icing on the cake. The Frontiersman had fallen asleep down stairs, our college-age son was in his man cave in the basement, playing a game on the Internet, with his ear buds on. I was in bed, upstairs, with the TV on. I had been working on homework for the business class I’m taking, but was nearly asleep when I heard the most ungodly sound I’ve ever heard. I sat bolt upright. At first, in my grogginess, I thought it was something on TV, but quickly realized I had a comedy show on, so it wasn’t likely those mournful cries came from the TV. As I became more fully awake, the sound seemed to encompass the house. Did we suddenly have very loud, very sad ghosts?
We have two little Miniature Pinschers who were both asleep at the end of the bed, under the covers. As the reverberating sound continued, they scampered out from under the covers and sat at the end of the bed, hugging each other, with their ears pricked up, worriedly glancing from side-to-side, as the chorus of howling continued.
Have you ever heard coyotes at night? The sound of their baying is so haunting. It sounds so close and so far away at the same time.
Since we live in a hollow, it had the effect of surround sound in a movie theater. I swear, it scared me so much I thought the coyotes were coming through my upstairs window at any second. I couldn’t even immediately think what to do (I know you want to be near me in an emergency).
As my senses returned, I darted down the stairs to find The Frontiersman snoring to the point of sucking the walls in, so I continued down the basement stairs. My son, the computer genius, was completely involved in the game he was playing and didn’t hear a thing. How can you not hear a sound that is making the entire house vibrate? I called to him in a breathless, scared-to-death voice and asked him if he had heard the coyotes. He shot me a look that not only told me he hadn’t heard them, but that he thought I had been dreaming. He did, however, manage to unglue himself from his chair and meet me at the open inside basement door. We stood there for a few seconds, listening for that frightening sound, but it didn’t come again. I instructed him to close the door and to put a nearby 2″ x 4′ piece of wood under the door knob to ensure the coyotes weren’t going to come barreling through.
All I can tell you is that if I never hear the sound of coyotes in the night again, I’ll be happy as a clam.
If you’ve had this experience, tell me about it.
IN PRAISE OF DIRT ROADS
In all my life, I never thought about living on a dirt road. I’ve always been more of an urban/suburban dweller, and if anyone had told me that at some point in my life, I’d be living in the country, I would have replied, “You’ve got the wrong gal.”
Well, here I am. Not only living in the country, but living on a certified dirt road. Wait a minute. Did I just say that?
In the two and a half years my family and I have lived here, I’ve actually learned a couple of things about dirt roads.
1) You can plant trees in the big potholes and then decorate them at Christmas time, giving off an air of peace and joy.
2) The Easter Bunny can hide in the potholes and watch the kids hunt Easter eggs and Easter baskets.
3) You no longer have the expense of washing your car because there’s no use in trying to keep it clean.
4) You get the thrills of riding on a roller coaster, but you don’t have to wait in line.
5) There’s no salt and little sand on the road in winter, so the trees (that you planted in the potholes) stay healthy, thus enhancing the neighborhood.
6) The ruts get so deep that you no longer have to steer your car. Just press the accelerator and your car stays in the rut, automatically steering for you. This frees your hands up for more important things like balancing your checkbook, applying mascara, or other important things that need to be done during this hands free time.
7) In hot, dry weather, the dirt billows from the road when a vehicle passes by. It looks so much like a sand storm, you have the experience of a trip to the desert without the travel expense.
8) Also, in hot, dry weather, the windows facing the road get so dirty you don’t need drapes. This obviously saves you money.
9) You also never have to bother painting the house. It is always brown.
10) …and in the wet weather, your kids can go swimming in the potholes!!
Unfortunately, dirt roads are on the endangered items list. Far too many of them have been paved. The world will be too quiet when the sounds of stones pinging off the fenders of passing cars and trucks are silenced by pavement.
Dirt roads force people to slow down and remember when…
Well, here I am. Not only living in the country, but living on a certified dirt road. Wait a minute. Did I just say that?
In the two and a half years my family and I have lived here, I’ve actually learned a couple of things about dirt roads.
1) You can plant trees in the big potholes and then decorate them at Christmas time, giving off an air of peace and joy.
2) The Easter Bunny can hide in the potholes and watch the kids hunt Easter eggs and Easter baskets.
3) You no longer have the expense of washing your car because there’s no use in trying to keep it clean.
4) You get the thrills of riding on a roller coaster, but you don’t have to wait in line.
5) There’s no salt and little sand on the road in winter, so the trees (that you planted in the potholes) stay healthy, thus enhancing the neighborhood.
6) The ruts get so deep that you no longer have to steer your car. Just press the accelerator and your car stays in the rut, automatically steering for you. This frees your hands up for more important things like balancing your checkbook, applying mascara, or other important things that need to be done during this hands free time.
7) In hot, dry weather, the dirt billows from the road when a vehicle passes by. It looks so much like a sand storm, you have the experience of a trip to the desert without the travel expense.
8) Also, in hot, dry weather, the windows facing the road get so dirty you don’t need drapes. This obviously saves you money.
9) You also never have to bother painting the house. It is always brown.
10) …and in the wet weather, your kids can go swimming in the potholes!!
Unfortunately, dirt roads are on the endangered items list. Far too many of them have been paved. The world will be too quiet when the sounds of stones pinging off the fenders of passing cars and trucks are silenced by pavement.
Dirt roads force people to slow down and remember when…
Colonoscopy Primer
I had a colonoscopy the other day; two days before Thanksgiving to be exact. What a mistake. From now on, I will always look at the calendar before setting a date for any procedure.
As you probably have heard, the prep is worse than the procedure. Much worse.
The day before the colonoscopy, you’re required to be on a clear liquid diet. Basically, if you can see through it, you can have it, except if it’s red or purple.
You have to drink this horrible crap that tastes like ocean water with a poor excuse for lemon flavoring added in. Once you prepare and drink this disgusting concoction, you better plan to hang out within inches of your toilet.
At this point, allow me to interject some thoughts for the well stocked bathroom. You will want to have the softest, strongest toilet paper on the market. The ones that are infused with aloe and vitamin E are best, and buy a large package of the double rolls. If you’ve thought ahead, perhaps you were clever enough to buy one of those soft, puffy toilet seats. After a few hours, you’ll really appreciate this purchase.
Since you will be calling your bathroom home for several hours, you’ll want some creature comforts. Have some magazines, mail order catalogs (You could actually do all of your Christmas shopping during this time.), or a good book within reach. A crossword puzzle book will keep your mind off your troubles, too. Of course you’ll want some nicely scented candles and some wonderfully scented body wash for ‘later’. Have a big mug of ice water handy too. If you have a way to haul your TV into the bathroom, that’s not a bad idea. Who knows, the weather could take a turn for the worse while you’re occupied and you’ll want to stay informed.
After your several hour toilet stint, you’ll really appreciate the nicely scented candles and the delicious smelling body wash. Believe me, you will want to take a shower! A large glass of white wine is good at this point, but take your shower first and head for your bed, taking the wine with you. You’ll feel very weak.
Don’t move anything when you’re finished because you’ll need to repeat this whole process early in the morning. Yeah.
The hospital admission and the procedure are pretty mundane. The recovery room, however is quite a circus. The nurses attempt to wake you up as soon as you’re rolled into recovery. The first thing you hear is a nurse asking, very loudly, if you’d like cranberry juice, apple juice or ice water. My woozy response was, cocoa. Who knows where that came from.
After a few minutes, a nurse returns to try, once again, to wake you and get a reasonable response. I wasn’t giving in so easily. My co-pay was $75.00. I planned on taking a nice, long nap at the very least.
Then, I got my wake up call.
“How you doing at expelling that gas, Mr. Jones?”
What was that?
Then, I realized I was in the middle of a flatulence festival, full of groggy patients, emitting random blasts of gas to release the air that was pumped into them during their colonoscopy.
“Nurse…check, please.”
“Mr. Jones”. the nurse called, “remember there’s a wall behind you. Try not to blow a hole through it ’cause they’ll make me repair it.”
Just then, my husband came in, my IV was removed and my wheelchair magically appeared. Yeah! Time to go home.
As you probably have heard, the prep is worse than the procedure. Much worse.
The day before the colonoscopy, you’re required to be on a clear liquid diet. Basically, if you can see through it, you can have it, except if it’s red or purple.
You have to drink this horrible crap that tastes like ocean water with a poor excuse for lemon flavoring added in. Once you prepare and drink this disgusting concoction, you better plan to hang out within inches of your toilet.
At this point, allow me to interject some thoughts for the well stocked bathroom. You will want to have the softest, strongest toilet paper on the market. The ones that are infused with aloe and vitamin E are best, and buy a large package of the double rolls. If you’ve thought ahead, perhaps you were clever enough to buy one of those soft, puffy toilet seats. After a few hours, you’ll really appreciate this purchase.
Since you will be calling your bathroom home for several hours, you’ll want some creature comforts. Have some magazines, mail order catalogs (You could actually do all of your Christmas shopping during this time.), or a good book within reach. A crossword puzzle book will keep your mind off your troubles, too. Of course you’ll want some nicely scented candles and some wonderfully scented body wash for ‘later’. Have a big mug of ice water handy too. If you have a way to haul your TV into the bathroom, that’s not a bad idea. Who knows, the weather could take a turn for the worse while you’re occupied and you’ll want to stay informed.
After your several hour toilet stint, you’ll really appreciate the nicely scented candles and the delicious smelling body wash. Believe me, you will want to take a shower! A large glass of white wine is good at this point, but take your shower first and head for your bed, taking the wine with you. You’ll feel very weak.
Don’t move anything when you’re finished because you’ll need to repeat this whole process early in the morning. Yeah.
The hospital admission and the procedure are pretty mundane. The recovery room, however is quite a circus. The nurses attempt to wake you up as soon as you’re rolled into recovery. The first thing you hear is a nurse asking, very loudly, if you’d like cranberry juice, apple juice or ice water. My woozy response was, cocoa. Who knows where that came from.
After a few minutes, a nurse returns to try, once again, to wake you and get a reasonable response. I wasn’t giving in so easily. My co-pay was $75.00. I planned on taking a nice, long nap at the very least.
Then, I got my wake up call.
“How you doing at expelling that gas, Mr. Jones?”
What was that?
Then, I realized I was in the middle of a flatulence festival, full of groggy patients, emitting random blasts of gas to release the air that was pumped into them during their colonoscopy.
“Nurse…check, please.”
“Mr. Jones”. the nurse called, “remember there’s a wall behind you. Try not to blow a hole through it ’cause they’ll make me repair it.”
Just then, my husband came in, my IV was removed and my wheelchair magically appeared. Yeah! Time to go home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
