Pain management

I understand the serious nature of controlling substances.  Unethical people will undermine the good nature of the pharmaceutical world, if not controlled.  But what I really resent is being treated like a druggie criminal when I ask for medications that I really need.  

Pain isn't really that tough to ignore.  With a strong will you can subvert most of it.  Why should you have to, though?  Science and medicine have made these advances so that pain can be managed in a humane way, so that you can avoid focusing on it and go on living your life.  I know the temporary pain of a major surgery will pass, but the time is going to seem so much longer and bleaker. 

Just my rant for the day--can't change legislation or the way a powerful lobby does business.  Thanks, drug addicts, for messing up another facet of society.

21 years ago. . .

The thought of being a parent had never scared me; in my teaching career I often felt parental responsibilities, and I relished them.  I had lived a full life, I thought, before my son was born in 1991.  Was there really that much more to experience?  I tired of the day to day baby stuff early, and started to panic more than once at the end of a sleepless day-turned into-night-turned back into day when he was a newborn.  Could I really do this?

As the years went by, the burden of care seemed lighter.  The daily battles were few, but there were some.  Every new school year brought changes that he fought.  More than once I carried him into a classroom squirming.  How would it look, I would say to him, to have a teacher whose own son hates school?  School started to become fun; reading became a habit, then a joy; and the artwork started.

One of the first beautiful works he created, that I still have framed and hung, was a watercolor rendition of New York’s Central Park, one he completed at age eleven. The healing after  9/11 was difficult—maybe a turning point in growing up.  The house fire.  Sparky’s death.  The hard year between tenth and eleventh grade.  They were all there for us to learn from, to experience together and make changes over.

Now, 21 years old.  I thought I could never be this lucky or happy.  We communicate; we don’t always agree, but we listen, and learn.  His college experience is exemplary, and he is a creative, kind, unselfish, loving person who I am proud to know and even prouder to be a parent of.  My crystal ball from my 21^st birthday would never have been able to contain all the joy of my future with my wonderful son, Nathan.  Happy birthday, mijo!

Turning 21

MANY years ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . .no, not really, but it was 36 years ago, in a 'Communist' country, steeped in vampire legends and mist, that I turned 21 years old.
It was a college-sponsored choir trip to Romania in 1976.  It was the year of the Olympic games in which Nadia Comaneci was about to wow the world, and it was my first time out of the country, besides Canada.  We were scheduled for many performances in odd venues, that included churches, schools, parks and public squares.  
I remember Romanian people mobbing us wherever we went, eager to talk to someone from the United States, and I also learned that the politics of the government of a country do not always echo the politics of average everyday citizens.  The Romanian people we met were warm, friendly and sociable.  They were proud of the beauties of their land, which many westerners had not visited at that point in time.  
The young gentlemen in the photo were NOT Romanians, however.  They were Palestinian college students going to school in Romania, who spoke not only Romanian and Arabic, but English as well.  My friend Beth and I met them at a museum and discovered that one of them shared MY birthday, May 20, but was one year older on that exact day!  We shared a glass of champagne and some English conversation in a small Romanian cafe, and followed all our curfew rules of the trip, as well!
Now, my sweet son will be turning 21 in a few days (check back later for a blog post), and I cannot believe how time can fly!

New knees!

It has been a scary and painful couple of months leading up to my first knee replacement on May 14.  Both my joints had deteriorated so badly due to arthritis that I was barely able to walk short distances without pain.  I decided to opt for getting both knees replaced this summer, taking a month off of the end of the school year to add to my recovery time.

The idea of the surgery soon started to scare me the most, as I started to hear horror stories from well-meaning friends and relatives.  Mostly everyone either knows someone who has experienced joint replacement, or they have had it done themselves, it seems.  The day finally came, after a hectic and emotional last few weeks of school.  I was admitted, had a long wait to get in, and the next thing I knew, I was in recovery.  The pain is constantly monitored with Mayo Clinic's "scale of one to ten", and I realized that the pain I was feeling at first was indescribable, and I really couldn't use the true number due to the possibility of alarming the nurses.  So I decided that I would downgrade the pain when they asked.

After the first day or so, it really did seem to be less, and each day progressed from there.  I was able to go home on Thursday, May 17, after a three-night hospital stay.  How I got around the first couple of days at home is a mystery, but my son was there the whole time, helping me with ice packs, physical therapy, medications, and general moral support.  Having a walker has been great and has actually helped firm up my flabby arms!  Now I'm looking forward to ditching the walker and maybe just using a cane, to help for support. 

My friends and family have all been so supportive and wonderful--with calls, prayers and good wishes.  I will be up and around soon, and hopefully see some of you face to face.  Take care and keep the good thoughts coming.  I appreciate it.
I made a small video for my students--take care, and don't laugh TOO much.  :(

Thankful for Thanksgiving

Ahhh, yes, it is one of my favorite holidays. I get all Clark Griswald about it sometimes, even. I love turkey, and everything that goes with it. The best thing about Thanksgiving, though, is the pause we take to really evaluate all the blessings of the year. How happy we are that our son is thriving and excelling in his chosen field at college. How great it is that our mom is still in fairly good health. How gratifying it is to have a great job at a school we love. To meet new friends, to adopt new sweet kittens, to find a super awesome lawn and snow guy who actually takes pride in his work! 

This year I'm also thankful that I am in better health.  I have lost more than a hundred pounds since my heaviest ever, and my blood pressure is no longer dangerously high. In the spring, I will be able to continue my trek to fitness with a double knee replacement. I feel like my life is beginning again, and I want to embrace it with open arms.

My wish for all my friends and family this Thanksgiving is that you look around yourselves and really notice all the positive things in your life. It has been a rough year, I'm not denying, but we are stronger and wiser for it. Enjoy being with the people who love you and whom you love.  Happy Turkey Day!

Tenth anniversary

The ten year anniversary of a monumental tragedy in our nation has me filled with dread. Not that I’ll be reminded of the helplessness of that day, the dread and fear for the future of our country, or that I’ll feel overwhelming grief over the thousands that died that day.

My angst this time around is that these events will be hyped and rehashed in the media, in classrooms and in the virulent hate-filled splinter groups that have sprung up since then. The re-living, the re-imagining, in their minds, serves to whip Americans into another frenzy of hate that erupted on that day against ALL “Arab/Muslim” people, no matter what their political leanings or personal histories.

I had eventually begun to feel that as bad as the tragedy had been, perhaps it could have served to remind us that we, as Americans, are not the center of the universe, and that our casual disregard of cultures and religions different from our own would wake people up to things going on in today’s world, make people WANT to learn about another faith, to understand it and discover how Americans might be mistaken in their acknowledgment of it. To my horror, the ‘tolerance’ that I had taken for granted as being GUARANTEED in the U.S. Constitution evaporated before my eyes.

Not only were Arab immigrants treated as a threat, ANY immigrants came to be hated and mistrusted and basically told to “go back to where you came from”.  In my lifetime, as a second generation American granddaughter of European immigrants, I had never witnessed such hate toward immigrants. People like me, whose ancestors were ALL immigrants started to act like they had never encountered anyone from outside of the U.S., nor did they ever want to.

The timing of 9/11 and the ten-year anniversary of it are bookends to my residence in Rochester, Minnesota, where I work as an ESL teacher to students from around the globe. I have counseled many students since that day, trying to reassure them that not all Americans hated them, and that they have as much right to be here as anyone else.

I felt in 2008 that the election of an African American president was a step in the right direction, but I see now that it has only permitted people to express their hatred even more openly, disguising it with politics or anything BUT what it actually is: hatred. I’m not giving up on the U.S., though, because I feel that it is like a wounded butterfly—beautiful and fragile, but still able to survive. That is what I will be focusing on next week.

The outsourcing blues

I consider myself a citizen of the world, and I really make an effort to understand the global economy. I want to be tolerant, and I want to receive satisfactory customer service for products that I buy and use. So, I have a considerable amount of angst about outsourced call centers. I know that their existence is often made light of and joked about by comedians, pundits, popular culture. I also understand the economic reason for their existence to better the company's bottom line. I must admit that actually dealing with them on a pretty regular basis has been somewhat of a wash for me.


I have a way I prefer to communicate with phone contacts of companies. I usually start out being as polite and sweet as apple pie, but then when my issue is not resolved within, say 15 to 20 minutes of waiting, talking to a computer voice, being put on hold, I start to lose my polite voice. It is my weakness and character flaw, and I have come pretty close to blowing a gasket on several different occasions. I have even worked a phone switchboard as a temporary job, so I guess I know a little about what I'm complaining about. Problem solving skills and initiative to find a solution are two skills that most employees need, and especially customer service personnel. Obtuse denial that there even IS a problem is not a good starting point for me with a phone operator.

Anyway, my major hideous billing issue with a certain cell phone company that loves the color pink was FINALLY resolved today after nearly 2 days straight on the phone. I wish I had kept my cool through it all, but sadly, I did not, and I will have to live with that.

Summertime, and the living is. . .

I usually relish August. There is a laziness about it; a careless expectation of finishing summer projects, MAYBE. The weather may be stifling, as it has been many summers, or gorgeous, as it has been so far this summer. For some reason, this year, though I have never noticed it before, cicadas buzz incessantly in the atmosphere here in southern Minnesota, a sound I had previously associated only with hotter, more southern areas I have lived. It is comforting and almost hypnotic.


This summer has been difficult, too. My cat, Charlie had been injured and euthanized, and several weeks later, my other older cat, Rufie, disappeared as well. Assuming, but never really KNOWING, that she was dead, I had to just go on, without closure. This had happened to two other felines, previously, as well, since we have lived here in this location. Not wanting to believe that a strange, mentally ill neighbor would actually do something to harm my pets, I have had to quell my desire to confront his elderly parents about it.

My two new kittens, Louie and Lily, will have to be mostly indoor cats, I guess, since I can't live with the regret that something I did contributed to their safety. I love the idea that cats can explore and roam in the yard, but I guess in OUR yard, that will have to end.

 
Anyway, the summer is coasting to a beautiful close, as my dear Nathan readies himself for his second year of college. There is the expectation for a new school year, hope for new adventures, meeting new people, expanding both our horizons. The house will seem so empty and quiet, no murmurs from the basement, and I will have to busy myself with school and reading.

He was a good cat. . .

The hardest thing about having pets is deciding when and if to end their suffering. You have a reluctance to end a life, that you choose, and you have a sadness of missing the animal after he's gone. You also have a responsibility to do the right thing, which is usually one of the hardest things you could ever do. To watch a loving, sweet pet languish in their own body fluids, not able or wanting to move, eat or drink is more than I can take for very long. I am lucky to have a sensitive and caring veterinarian, Mike Morath, who understands and supports my pets and their quality of life. I will miss my sweet baby, but he is not suffering now. Maybe if God cares about animals, like I hope He does, I'll see him again someday.

Charlie

When I refer to millions of cats, I don't really mean that I love all cats, or that I have a million of them. I have only one now that I love more than any cat I've had for a long time. When we got Charlie from Craigslist two years ago in August, we looked like this picture. He had been abandoned by his mom, and when he came in the car with me, he immediately snuggled into my shoulder and claimed me as his new mom. He loves just being near me and often sits in front of the computer monitor as I work. However, last night, something happened to him and he got injured somehow, and since it's the Fourth, no vets are available except the local emergency, for HUGE profit, veterinary clinic. Our regular vet in Plainview is out of town, so the soonest we can get him in there is tomorrow morning. I'm broken up over it, and I hope it's something that we can fix and he can recover from. I know that cats are really resilient, so I won't give up hope for my favorite baby. I know he's just an animal, but he makes my life worth living a lot of days.

Bullying is not okay. . .

I just read an article today in the Minneapolis Star Tribune about a survey done among GLBT kids in Minnesota. The results of the survey were disturbing and disheartening, in this Minnesota GBLT bullying article , but not really surprising. As a veteran teacher of 33 years, I have seen my share of bullying. I don't tolerate it in my classroom, but what goes on in hallways, outside the school building, in hidden areas like locker rooms, or elsewhere, I really have no control over. Kids have gotten meaner, emboldened by shock videos, movies, popular culture where demeaning for just about any reason is used for entertainment value. I try to teach tolerance along with my usual curriculum, so I know that I am not intentionally adding to the problem. My attitudes are not shared by everyone, of course, not even all my teaching colleagues. If you stand aside and say nothing when people are being not only physically bullied, but verbally and emotionally bullied, then you are part of the problem. The world is big, and cat bullies might be cute, but people bullies are the ugliest monsters I can imagine.

This is harder than I thought. . .

I started this blog years ago, and with Facebook popping up, I kind of deserted it. I don't drink TAB anymore, so I thought that was an inappropriate reference to me. I do still love cats, and I feel that my life wouldn't be complete without them. If I meet a fellow cat lover, I know that I have something in common. If I meet a cat hater, well, let's just say I have some issues right out of the gate. I snaked the title from a favorite childhood book called Millions of Cats by Wanda Gag. In the book, which was really quite twisted, a man and woman decided they were lonely, so the husband goes off in search of a cat to please his wife. He eventually ends up with millions of cats following him home, and even though the wife is happy, she realizes they can't care for that many cats. She decides to have a contest and asks the question, "which of you is the prettiest?" A huge bloody cat fight ensues until all the cats are obliterated except for one skinny ugly one. They decide to keep the loner and nurture it into a beautiful, sleek pet that they both love. I always loved reading the book and the art work was charming. I'm not sure what message it sends, but I'm okay with that. I know that appearance isn't everything, especially with cats, and even more with people.

"Blow up your TV, throw away your papers. . ."

After years of adoration and idolization of the major songwriter to come out of Chicago, in my opinion, I finally got to see John Prine live in Rochester, MN. I thought who else could possibly be as obsessed with this ghoulish icon? How wrong I was! More than a thousand fervent fans packed the concert hall, and also knew ALL the words to John's great songs. After his bout with cancer ten years ago, I was worried he wouldn't sound the same. He did, and maybe even better. It was like coming home to a comfortable chair and having it enfold me.

His opening act, Paul Thorn, was a great surprise, too. With his kooky song writing ("Joanie, the Jehovah Witness stripper", for one), he made an impression and made me think maybe Tupelo, MS, wasn't all bad.

"The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world's joy."

My beloved Phoenix Suns. . .once at the top of the western pack, now relegated to the 5th place spot. But, down and definitely not out, I say. They now have the longest win streak (6 games) in the NBA and seek to lengthen it against the Rockets tomorrow. Laying low until the playoffs, I think. Getting used to having Godzilla there to swat planes away from the Empire State Building. Getting used to letting Amare shine, and finally using Boris and Leandro to their full pontential. Steve Nash, the most dedicated NBA mastermind of strategy and game play, is beginning to get back on his game and making an impression on the naysayers; the Kobe lovers; the Celtic bandwagon jumpers. Bring on April, I say, when the Sun really starts to shine.

"No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn."

It seemed like spring was almost here. The ground was starting to smell like soft dirt, the snow was almost gone, and yesterday it was 50. Then, as if on cue, the last gasp of winter, the Easter snow blast. They're all out there jogging in it, as usual. Still one more week until spring break--WAAAHHH!
It has lasted forever, it seems, this one. Piles and piles of snow, days and weeks of sub-zero temps, wind. . . the robins have already come back.
TV is starting to cooperate, too, after the long winter's writers' strike. It almost seems bearable again.

Sizzle, July, Sizzle. . .

I know almost every town has a fireworks display, and I used to think it was the best time of the year. I would look forward to it every year, and it never failed to make me a little teary eyed and choked up. Well, it's even better from your front yard, with your son up on the roof taking great shots like this one. The cool, still air and lightning bugs flickering here and there. The day wouldn't be complete without a cookout, and getting a little sunburned picking raspberries. Oh, no, we FORGOT to mow the lawn! It's a summer dream world filled with juicy delights--I might even have forgotten what day it is tomorrow.

Christine

It's a 1990 Dodge Spirit with red velour uphoulstry. . .black cherry exterior. It's the first car I've bought for my son. I wanted something cheap, reliable and safe. Having it be in mint condition, from someone I already knew was even better.
It's been an eventful six months since my last post. We got and exchanged a dog, I got a new grand nephew, school finished and summer school is one week past already. The fourth of July is on the way--probably in ND, where they have real fireworks, not baby sparklers. The weather has been muggy and hot, the garden is ecstatic and TV viewing is summer craptastic. No vacay for us this year, only Christine and getting the license squared away. Probably a great summer, if it doesn't get too dry.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Yeah, I love Christmas. It goes too fast, I spend too much, and I build it up too greatly in advance. But I feel like a better person, and when I'm out shopping in the height of the crazy rush, like today, I feel alive; I feel like there is hope for humanity. Everyone smiles a little more, everyone's a little nicer, and I want that feeling all year; I get greedy for it. ("Scrooged"--OK, I love that movie, too) It didn't snow, but I don't even care about that, either. The only thing I would possibly bitch about is that we only have one whole week off from school, which is a little Ebenezer-ish. But bring on 2007--I'm even over my new millenium neurosis.

Over the river and through the woods. . .

I've always loved Thanksgiving. It's a holiday that can bring people together, and you don't have to give anything in return. Of course there were always those stressed out family dinners of yore, where the expectations were somewhat inflated. But today was perfect. It was a beautiful balmy day, all the food was perfect, and everyone had a good time. We missed Sparky, and his favorite food was turkey. The other hairy beasts had a great time begging for scraps, though. Our newly remodeled basement was a treat, and I truly am so thankful to be back in our house, finally, after two Thanksgivings away. Things are looking up and the turkey sandwiches tomorrow will be awesome.

All Dogs go to Heaven

Sparky was the best dog anyone could ever have. He was gentle, loving, loyal and energetic. He never once growled at an overly rambunctious child, and he never even snapped at anyone, no matter how menacing they were being. He was always waiting there by the window, and he could identify car engines by their sounds. He loved people food, and felt he should be allowed to eat it whenever he sniffed it. He loved cats, and might have even thought he was a cat. He played carefully and gently with Natalie when she was only a couple of months old. We brought him from Arizona, the pup of a German Shorthair Pointer mom and a Dalmatian dad. His mom died shortly after he was born, and I think he always viewed me as a substitute. Then the past few months he stopped eating, had trouble seeing, and had lots of accidents on the floors, the beds, the couch. He was afraid of the stairs, and fell several times. He didn't ever stop being the loving soul he always was, and I felt that he was crying out for release from his pain and fear. I had to end his life today, November 4, 2006, just before he would have turned 10 years old next January. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I know he's at peace now, hopefully in a better place, free of his pain. Rest in peace, Sparky.