It has been a dreary, rainy day. The sun hasn't made an appearance, even for a few minutes.
I have wandered in and out of the living room, glancing occasionally at LSU playing their bowl game against Washington. It hasn't held my attention. The husband lays stretched out on the sofa, iPad clasped between his hands, an occasional eye on the game.
I hurriedly showered and dressed this morning as I have for the past two weeks. My 81 yr. old neighbor lives a few blocks away with her son. She has had major surgery and is very weak and refuses to take her medicines. Her son has no experience with caring for a sick person so I make a trip to their home every morning and evening. I encourage fluids, food and insist on her taking her medications. Her short term memory is now but a memory but not to her. She can recall events from her past but finishing a sentence is a chore for her. I spend some time every trip educating her son on his mother's illness. He still doesn't quite comprehend how ill she is. I caution him against leaving her alone in the house. He thinks if he is sleeping in his bedroom, immediate supervision is not needed.
Today she attempted to climb upon a chair to do some dusting of a shelf that hangs on the wall above the dining table. I exchanged looks with him after noticing the chair out of place against that wall. Tomorrow morning I will have another conversation with him regarding her safety.
Before visiting this evening, I made some chicken salad and chicken soup. She is very frail and has no appetite. I try to bring her something that might entice her to eat. We are up to a half a sandwich in the morning and now in the evening. A BOOST drink is offered with her meals and in between. I asked her son to offer her food every two hours and to not expect her to eat a normal serving.
This afternoon the storm that was predicted had arrived. Amid the firecrackers and fireworks, the rain slashed through the afternoon, leaving lightning and sporadic rolls of thunder. The sky's percussion section was in session.
Racing from my carport to the car, the fat rain drops pelted my shoulders. A few blocks later and I was at my neighbor's house administering to her needs, returning home in a continuing downpour.
More football, a plate of cheese and a glass of champagne, the husband and I each claimed a sofa and our wine to wait for midnight. I think we will make it to midnight tonight to welcome in the new year. 2017, you are almost here. I have many reasons to be apprehensive about the coming year. I'm going to wait it out, hope for the best and tolerate what is to be.
Happy New Year...here we go!
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Sunday, December 25, 2016
Lazy, That's Me! December 23, 2016
Though I rolled out of bed at 0500 hrs. and stood half asleep watching the coffee drip down into the pot, stealing a cup half way though it's cycle, I thought about stretching out on the sofa and going back to sleep.
Instead, I gathered up all the ingredients and the baking pans and started making the bread pudding. I'll gift it to neighbors and to Carrie's best friend's mom.
Hours later Carrie is out of bed and breakfast has to be served. Two scrambled eggs with cheese and a hash brown patty needs only a luncheon plate. Carrie eschews the bacon and toast. She doesn't like much to eat early in the day.
I know there is something I should be doing for Christmas preparation as usually I'm stressed out with all the things needing to be done. Maybe it's because we are grilling out. Steaks, baked potatoes, salads and a pot of Gumbo with rice, and potato salad for those "extras' that might appear. Christmas Day will be with temperatures in the 70's. No rain is forecast so the meal may be served on the patio. Why not? Most of the people here prefer to be outdoors. I'll set up the extra table and move chairs to the outside. There is a big screen TV hanging from the ceiling where the ballgame will be watched. We can't halt ball games, even for Christmas.
Carrie is packed and ready to visit her father. She will be gone until Sunday afternoon when she will rejoin us for the celebration.
SATURDAY MORNING:
I was apparently too lazy to finish that post yesterday or I just didn't have much to say. I've been out of bed since 3AM. I've cleaned two bathrooms, put fresh sheets on Carrie's bed and cleaned out the fridge. The husband is in the shower and off to the market later to get the makings for Civeche (sp) and some Margarita mix. We will spend this afternoon on the patio with friends. It's going to be in the high 70's today and tomorrow and we are grilling for Christmas.
I'm trying to roust a friend from her bed but so far not much success. She is a shopper and I'm not so I like to take her along to keep me in the stores but once I've purchased what I need, I'm ready to get out.
DECEMBER 25
Well here it is Christmas Day. Oh, Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday, take your pick.
I hesitated to post this as I couldn't find a path that usually unfolds to me as the my fingers start tapping out words on the keyboard. It's as much a surprise to me as it is to you because I seldom know what will happen or where it takes me while on the keyboard.
I was perusing pictures around the web. This may not be what this post was intending to share, but I want to just make one point and then I'll publish this troublesome post that has been without direction.
When I die and you know I will. You will too. It's just part of living but we all know that don't we?
Please don't share a photo of me on death's door. I've seen people publish pictures of loved ones that were gaunt, emaciated, hollow eyed and hairless. I've known some of these people and they had pride in themselves. They were usually well groomed and dressed neatly. They may or may not have been handsome but well groomed they were.
I'm one of those people. Not always of course but I roll out of bed and into the shower after starting a pot of coffee. The first thing that needs attention after brushing my teeth is my eyebrows. It's just amazing what a great pair of eyebrows will do for your face. My eyebrows have disappeared to light barely able to be noticed thin arcs that used to frame my eyes. Somedays I have dramatic eyebrows, a pencil used not to draw a line but to draw hairs. Hair stroke after hair stroke lends realism. Eyebrow pencil applied, I move to some eyeliner and a swatch of bright lipstick completes my regime. Hey, I never said I spent hours getting ready did I? I spend just a very little time but I feel much better afterwards. For special occasions I might apply foundation and blush but that's not a daily thing. I usually do this FIRST thing in the morning and should I have to leave the house in a hurry, I'm presentable.
Next, the hair. My limp hair has finally been tamed. The chemo has changed the texture. The lack of estrogen has taken care of it's thickness. Around the crown it has thinned. Finally after three years I've started using 'product' in it. Got To Be Glued has to be the best thing that Walmart sells. It's a gel that allows a bare, bare amount to be used or the hair will be concrete. Add some Got To Be Glued Hair Spray and I have the look of thick hair that is full, no longer a limp mass on my head.
Use one of those pictures please. And should I last another 20 yrs, then an updated picture will be fine. Make sure my hair is done and I don't look like a cadaver. If I do, then use an older photo that resembles me and not a corpse.
A picture was posted recently of Cha Cha Gabor. You remember her, right? The Hungarian blonde beauty that made the rounds in the 60's and 70's; hair was always coifed, she was elegant. That picture shown at her demise was one of hair that splayed out from her hair in a halo of gauzy dried mess. I realize she was ill but I find it difficult to believe she couldn't have had some care and attention to her appearance. Baring that, maybe a camera shouldn't have been used to record her until her appearance was attended to. I thnk she would have been appalled.
A little lipstick goes a long way to making a gal look presentable.
I'm done here. My post found a purpose. I'm leaving it in your hands to make sure these wishes are fulfilled. It's time for my shower, hair and makeup. I'm running late.
Instead, I gathered up all the ingredients and the baking pans and started making the bread pudding. I'll gift it to neighbors and to Carrie's best friend's mom.
Hours later Carrie is out of bed and breakfast has to be served. Two scrambled eggs with cheese and a hash brown patty needs only a luncheon plate. Carrie eschews the bacon and toast. She doesn't like much to eat early in the day.
I know there is something I should be doing for Christmas preparation as usually I'm stressed out with all the things needing to be done. Maybe it's because we are grilling out. Steaks, baked potatoes, salads and a pot of Gumbo with rice, and potato salad for those "extras' that might appear. Christmas Day will be with temperatures in the 70's. No rain is forecast so the meal may be served on the patio. Why not? Most of the people here prefer to be outdoors. I'll set up the extra table and move chairs to the outside. There is a big screen TV hanging from the ceiling where the ballgame will be watched. We can't halt ball games, even for Christmas.
Carrie is packed and ready to visit her father. She will be gone until Sunday afternoon when she will rejoin us for the celebration.
SATURDAY MORNING:
I was apparently too lazy to finish that post yesterday or I just didn't have much to say. I've been out of bed since 3AM. I've cleaned two bathrooms, put fresh sheets on Carrie's bed and cleaned out the fridge. The husband is in the shower and off to the market later to get the makings for Civeche (sp) and some Margarita mix. We will spend this afternoon on the patio with friends. It's going to be in the high 70's today and tomorrow and we are grilling for Christmas.
I'm trying to roust a friend from her bed but so far not much success. She is a shopper and I'm not so I like to take her along to keep me in the stores but once I've purchased what I need, I'm ready to get out.
DECEMBER 25
Well here it is Christmas Day. Oh, Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday, take your pick.
I hesitated to post this as I couldn't find a path that usually unfolds to me as the my fingers start tapping out words on the keyboard. It's as much a surprise to me as it is to you because I seldom know what will happen or where it takes me while on the keyboard.
I was perusing pictures around the web. This may not be what this post was intending to share, but I want to just make one point and then I'll publish this troublesome post that has been without direction.
When I die and you know I will. You will too. It's just part of living but we all know that don't we?
Please don't share a photo of me on death's door. I've seen people publish pictures of loved ones that were gaunt, emaciated, hollow eyed and hairless. I've known some of these people and they had pride in themselves. They were usually well groomed and dressed neatly. They may or may not have been handsome but well groomed they were.
I'm one of those people. Not always of course but I roll out of bed and into the shower after starting a pot of coffee. The first thing that needs attention after brushing my teeth is my eyebrows. It's just amazing what a great pair of eyebrows will do for your face. My eyebrows have disappeared to light barely able to be noticed thin arcs that used to frame my eyes. Somedays I have dramatic eyebrows, a pencil used not to draw a line but to draw hairs. Hair stroke after hair stroke lends realism. Eyebrow pencil applied, I move to some eyeliner and a swatch of bright lipstick completes my regime. Hey, I never said I spent hours getting ready did I? I spend just a very little time but I feel much better afterwards. For special occasions I might apply foundation and blush but that's not a daily thing. I usually do this FIRST thing in the morning and should I have to leave the house in a hurry, I'm presentable.
Next, the hair. My limp hair has finally been tamed. The chemo has changed the texture. The lack of estrogen has taken care of it's thickness. Around the crown it has thinned. Finally after three years I've started using 'product' in it. Got To Be Glued has to be the best thing that Walmart sells. It's a gel that allows a bare, bare amount to be used or the hair will be concrete. Add some Got To Be Glued Hair Spray and I have the look of thick hair that is full, no longer a limp mass on my head.
Use one of those pictures please. And should I last another 20 yrs, then an updated picture will be fine. Make sure my hair is done and I don't look like a cadaver. If I do, then use an older photo that resembles me and not a corpse.
A picture was posted recently of Cha Cha Gabor. You remember her, right? The Hungarian blonde beauty that made the rounds in the 60's and 70's; hair was always coifed, she was elegant. That picture shown at her demise was one of hair that splayed out from her hair in a halo of gauzy dried mess. I realize she was ill but I find it difficult to believe she couldn't have had some care and attention to her appearance. Baring that, maybe a camera shouldn't have been used to record her until her appearance was attended to. I thnk she would have been appalled.
A little lipstick goes a long way to making a gal look presentable.
I'm done here. My post found a purpose. I'm leaving it in your hands to make sure these wishes are fulfilled. It's time for my shower, hair and makeup. I'm running late.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Brrr Baby! It's Cold Outside and Dr. Molly
And it's a bit chilly inside too! I can't complain because, you see, I complain about the hot summers here so if I mention how cold it is, I have to listen to the husband remind me of the anticipation I embrace when our winter arrives.
I don't mind the cold in the least little bit but the wind we have had with this cold front slices right through the jeans and sweaters I wear when outdoors. Though it's in the 30's now I still shun a winter coat. I dislike being 'bundled up'.
Molly. The name is very fitting. Molly barely looks old enough to have graduated high school. She stands about 5'5". A trim young woman, wears a dress, a pair of black flats and a long white bright lab jacket. A black stethoscope circles her neck Long light caramel colored hair hangs in soft curls past her shoulders. Huge, bright brown eyes, thickly lashed, brows naturally arched, her face is that classic example of symmetry that causes cameras to deliver beautiful renditions to print. Molly is my oncologist. My previous oncologist moved to a little town close by and I had to make a choice of following her or of selecting a new one at the same clinic I visit. Molly is the niece of my previous doctor. I like Molly. Molly also sings like a nightingale or so I'm told. Molly has never sang for me during an exam but she is a member of a band of local doctors here in town. Word is, she has a beautiful voice and I hope one day to hear her sing.
I just did my six month CT scan and the results came in last week so I visited with Dr. Molly. I hesitate to use her last name for privacy reasons so hereafter she will be referred to as "Dr. Molly".
The CT scan to detect cancer return was negative and as I expelled a held breath of anticipation of bad news barely seconds later in her soft voice, my oncologist then mentioned a "node" on my thyroid!
Of course I asked about the chance of it being a metz from the breast or colon and she said that would be very very unusual. I now have a Ultrasound scheduled for December 29th. Oh the fun never stops. It's been a whole 4 months since a surgeon has cut on me so I suppose I'm due (said sarcastically).
I'm not fretting over this. I'll face whatever comes without any other choice but getting through the next step. I'm not saying I won't be going through the same steps of grieving should it be news of surgery but I refuse to start before that Ultrasound on the 29th of December.
Today is the last day of school before the Christmas break. Carrie's Christmas pageant was yesterday and her family made it there to watch it. Carrie was in the choir, dressed in an elf's hat, a green jagged felt collar around her neck, over a red shirt that everyone was required to wear. A kakhi pair of shorts completed her ensemble. Large red spots painted on her cheeks, she stood on the back row and sang and pantomimed the routine they have been working on for the past week.
She spent the night at her home. No math homework, no ELA, no science. Hurray! I'm on break too.
I like spending time with Carrie but occasionally it's very nice to know I can laze around and not have anyone placing requests for food or drink.
I still have a little shopping to do but it's only for one person. I'll slip back into a pair of jeans and a comfy sweatshirt and I'll put a pep in my step as I move out of the car to the stores. I find the weather "bracing". My husband thinks it sucks but he was born and raised in the desert Southwest. He revels in the heat.
I'm done. Finito. Cio...
I don't mind the cold in the least little bit but the wind we have had with this cold front slices right through the jeans and sweaters I wear when outdoors. Though it's in the 30's now I still shun a winter coat. I dislike being 'bundled up'.
Molly. The name is very fitting. Molly barely looks old enough to have graduated high school. She stands about 5'5". A trim young woman, wears a dress, a pair of black flats and a long white bright lab jacket. A black stethoscope circles her neck Long light caramel colored hair hangs in soft curls past her shoulders. Huge, bright brown eyes, thickly lashed, brows naturally arched, her face is that classic example of symmetry that causes cameras to deliver beautiful renditions to print. Molly is my oncologist. My previous oncologist moved to a little town close by and I had to make a choice of following her or of selecting a new one at the same clinic I visit. Molly is the niece of my previous doctor. I like Molly. Molly also sings like a nightingale or so I'm told. Molly has never sang for me during an exam but she is a member of a band of local doctors here in town. Word is, she has a beautiful voice and I hope one day to hear her sing.
I just did my six month CT scan and the results came in last week so I visited with Dr. Molly. I hesitate to use her last name for privacy reasons so hereafter she will be referred to as "Dr. Molly".
The CT scan to detect cancer return was negative and as I expelled a held breath of anticipation of bad news barely seconds later in her soft voice, my oncologist then mentioned a "node" on my thyroid!
Of course I asked about the chance of it being a metz from the breast or colon and she said that would be very very unusual. I now have a Ultrasound scheduled for December 29th. Oh the fun never stops. It's been a whole 4 months since a surgeon has cut on me so I suppose I'm due (said sarcastically).
I'm not fretting over this. I'll face whatever comes without any other choice but getting through the next step. I'm not saying I won't be going through the same steps of grieving should it be news of surgery but I refuse to start before that Ultrasound on the 29th of December.
Today is the last day of school before the Christmas break. Carrie's Christmas pageant was yesterday and her family made it there to watch it. Carrie was in the choir, dressed in an elf's hat, a green jagged felt collar around her neck, over a red shirt that everyone was required to wear. A kakhi pair of shorts completed her ensemble. Large red spots painted on her cheeks, she stood on the back row and sang and pantomimed the routine they have been working on for the past week.
She spent the night at her home. No math homework, no ELA, no science. Hurray! I'm on break too.
I like spending time with Carrie but occasionally it's very nice to know I can laze around and not have anyone placing requests for food or drink.
I still have a little shopping to do but it's only for one person. I'll slip back into a pair of jeans and a comfy sweatshirt and I'll put a pep in my step as I move out of the car to the stores. I find the weather "bracing". My husband thinks it sucks but he was born and raised in the desert Southwest. He revels in the heat.
I'm done. Finito. Cio...
Sunday, December 18, 2016
2016, Day 17, Month of Christmas and The Countdown is ON!
Yes folks, another year has rolled around to that jolliest of holidays. It's a festival of lights and carols. I used to be so excited. I was 10 yrs. old and lived far out in the country with the 'family of nine'. The tree would be cut from a scraggly selection on our farmland. We made paper chains, colored with crayons and strung popcorn for the tree. When I look back at a few pictures that are still around and see that tree, I smile because I thought it was so beautiful. I think you can wrap strands of lights around a toilet and it will be a beautiful sight to behold when all the lights in the room are dimmed down leaving those bright white, cherry red and tree green lights adorning that repurposed toilet. Mind you, this was never done but you get my drift on the tree that sat proudly in the corner of the living room in our shabby but very clean farm house.
The upstairs of this farmhouse had one long room that ran end to end of the house. Down the center of this long room hung a rope and from that rope sheets were used to divide the room. A metal stovepipe grew from the floor and exited the ceiling in the middle of the room. Four little boys slept on one end of that room while three little girls maintained the other side. We all three slept on our sides and when one turned to the opposite side, everyone got nudged in the side which meant it was time for them to turn too. The beds were piled high with thick homemade quilts. The weight of the fabric promised a warm night of sleep and on a really cold night, we slept in sweatshirts and pants. We could hear the wind as it battered the house and from the small leaky window we could watch as the snow would swirl and pile up on the tin roof that covered the front porch and extended from that window.
Going to bed with wet hair in the winter would usually guarantee frozen wet hair in the morning.
The excitement from the children, my siblings, was crackling in the air. It was not what the tree held beneath it, but the oranges and apples and nuts we would find in our stockings. It was one toy for each. I especially remember the three dolls, all exact in their perfection, sitting side by side under the tree waiting for me and my sisters to find them. Our names were written on one arm of the soft rubber. I had my dollie for years and years. In later years she lived in my grandmother's basement. I'm sure she was there after the grandparents passed and the house was empties.
Sometimes all those seven children could collect pennies found, a dime here or a nickel there and save a dollar during the year for a gift for our mother.
Then our own children came along and we lived through their excitement and as the years passed and the commercialization of Christmas overwhelmed and guilted parents and shoppers into the mall frenzy of shopping, the excitement of Christmas was pushed aside and replaced by stress.
I'm the one that usually groans and complains that 'it's that time of year again and I'm just not into it".
I put up a tree and the tree is perfect in shape, no gaping holes. It ends in a peak where the small angel dressed in white brocade with her neck wrap matching her dress sits and surveys the room.
I heard a man explain why he liked this time of year. A time of renewal, a time for family to gather, the festive feeling and everyone following family traditions. I'm smiling more at people and issuing cheery greetings to everyone. Carrie and I baked together then packaged up the bread pudding and the fudge into pretty holiday containers and delivered them to her teachers on Friday. She was so excited to be "giving". The groans and complaining have vanished. It usually does and I'm colluding with Carrie on making "Firecrackers" for her second grade teacher that we both love. She will be here today to help with 'giving more.'
Her mother usually goes through her toys and makes donations but as Carrie has grown older, her toys are now tech type stuff. Gone are the stuffed animals and the dolls, replaced by special pens and pencils and art paper for drawing so her donation pile is skimpy.
I'm not stressing this season. The economy here is a sad thing with people moving away to find jobs. I'm sure the shopping lists have been shorn down to a minimum. I hope so. I've shopped for the grandchildren and a few others on my list and those gifts have required more thought. This isn't a lavish affair; mine usually aren't but I've limited the amount of spending as the unemployment here has continued to deepen and people are still trying to recover from the flood in August. Many people will be grateful to just get back into their houses that had to be gutted.
It's Sunday and I'm excited. Carrie will do her Christmas shopping today. The traffic will be horrible The crowds will be horrible. but we are not in a hurry. I get my shopping done early so I enjoy getting out in the crowds knowing that everyone is intent on one goal,; getting theirs done.
Yesterday it was 80 degrees. Foul weather was forecasted and as I cracked open the door this morning, I was greeted with a chilly blast of cold air. The streets are wet and gusts of wind are picking up the maple leafs from the lawn and twirling them into the air to send them down the street. Maybe we won't have to rake again.
It's shower time and time to dress in some warm clothes. I'm excited about the cold weather. I can wear jeans, a sweater and a neck scarf and pretend as though snow will be falling which I know is not going to happen.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays...take your pick. I'm gone for the day!
The upstairs of this farmhouse had one long room that ran end to end of the house. Down the center of this long room hung a rope and from that rope sheets were used to divide the room. A metal stovepipe grew from the floor and exited the ceiling in the middle of the room. Four little boys slept on one end of that room while three little girls maintained the other side. We all three slept on our sides and when one turned to the opposite side, everyone got nudged in the side which meant it was time for them to turn too. The beds were piled high with thick homemade quilts. The weight of the fabric promised a warm night of sleep and on a really cold night, we slept in sweatshirts and pants. We could hear the wind as it battered the house and from the small leaky window we could watch as the snow would swirl and pile up on the tin roof that covered the front porch and extended from that window.
Going to bed with wet hair in the winter would usually guarantee frozen wet hair in the morning.
The excitement from the children, my siblings, was crackling in the air. It was not what the tree held beneath it, but the oranges and apples and nuts we would find in our stockings. It was one toy for each. I especially remember the three dolls, all exact in their perfection, sitting side by side under the tree waiting for me and my sisters to find them. Our names were written on one arm of the soft rubber. I had my dollie for years and years. In later years she lived in my grandmother's basement. I'm sure she was there after the grandparents passed and the house was empties.
Sometimes all those seven children could collect pennies found, a dime here or a nickel there and save a dollar during the year for a gift for our mother.
Then our own children came along and we lived through their excitement and as the years passed and the commercialization of Christmas overwhelmed and guilted parents and shoppers into the mall frenzy of shopping, the excitement of Christmas was pushed aside and replaced by stress.
I'm the one that usually groans and complains that 'it's that time of year again and I'm just not into it".
I put up a tree and the tree is perfect in shape, no gaping holes. It ends in a peak where the small angel dressed in white brocade with her neck wrap matching her dress sits and surveys the room.
I heard a man explain why he liked this time of year. A time of renewal, a time for family to gather, the festive feeling and everyone following family traditions. I'm smiling more at people and issuing cheery greetings to everyone. Carrie and I baked together then packaged up the bread pudding and the fudge into pretty holiday containers and delivered them to her teachers on Friday. She was so excited to be "giving". The groans and complaining have vanished. It usually does and I'm colluding with Carrie on making "Firecrackers" for her second grade teacher that we both love. She will be here today to help with 'giving more.'
Her mother usually goes through her toys and makes donations but as Carrie has grown older, her toys are now tech type stuff. Gone are the stuffed animals and the dolls, replaced by special pens and pencils and art paper for drawing so her donation pile is skimpy.
I'm not stressing this season. The economy here is a sad thing with people moving away to find jobs. I'm sure the shopping lists have been shorn down to a minimum. I hope so. I've shopped for the grandchildren and a few others on my list and those gifts have required more thought. This isn't a lavish affair; mine usually aren't but I've limited the amount of spending as the unemployment here has continued to deepen and people are still trying to recover from the flood in August. Many people will be grateful to just get back into their houses that had to be gutted.
It's Sunday and I'm excited. Carrie will do her Christmas shopping today. The traffic will be horrible The crowds will be horrible. but we are not in a hurry. I get my shopping done early so I enjoy getting out in the crowds knowing that everyone is intent on one goal,; getting theirs done.
Yesterday it was 80 degrees. Foul weather was forecasted and as I cracked open the door this morning, I was greeted with a chilly blast of cold air. The streets are wet and gusts of wind are picking up the maple leafs from the lawn and twirling them into the air to send them down the street. Maybe we won't have to rake again.
It's shower time and time to dress in some warm clothes. I'm excited about the cold weather. I can wear jeans, a sweater and a neck scarf and pretend as though snow will be falling which I know is not going to happen.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays...take your pick. I'm gone for the day!
Monday, December 5, 2016
December 5th...Rainy and Cold
August 13 of this year, a major rain storm struck the Gulf Coast. During the night and early morning the rain pummeled the Bayou State. Lafayette and the surrounding area, along with Baton Rouge and the surrounding towns went 'under water". Some houses were just that, totally underwater. Other homes had three feet of water. Enough water got into these homes to warrant a total stripping of floors, cabinets and walls. Black mold spores were creeping up the walls within days of the flood. The houses, even with a mear three inches of water were uninhabitable.
Most people didn't realize the water was in their homes until their feet hit the floor in the early morning hours and cold, foul water lapped around their ankles.
Clothing, rugs, furniture, flooring, walls and doors littered the sides of the streets. Beautiful stainless steel appliances, stove, fridge and washer and dryers were grouped in front of the houses. Beautiful armoirs, and wooden bedrooms, dressers and night stands decorated the fronts of lawns. I felt huge sadness as I drove through subdivision after subdivision and noted the carnage.
December 4th, yesterday, and another rain started. The coolies need cleaned out of debris from that last flood and now they are filling up and overflowing once again. The victims of the last flood watch and worry that their newly cleaned houses will face yet more water.
My daughter lost two cars in that August flooding The car she drives now is the one I was driving. Finding her a used car that we could trust was not an option. She took my car and I bought a later model low mileage one of the same make and model. Last night she called and she bought that car back to my driveway to spend the night. I give her a lift home with a promise to return the next day with it. We are taking no chances on losing another car to the high waters.
The rain continues to fall. It's not a large downpour but it's steady and relentless. Hopefully the coolies will have time to drain.
Those that flooded in August are spending sleepless nights watching and waiting. I don't know if I could continue to live in my house had it flooded. Every big rain storm afterwards would have me spending sleepless nights waiting and watching.
The temperatures along with the rain are also steadily falling. I'm wrapped up in a blanket watching a movie on Netflix. It's just one of those days where a movie and a blanket is the best option I have. Add to that a cup of hot chocolate and I'm a happy homebound, warm and dry woman!
Most people didn't realize the water was in their homes until their feet hit the floor in the early morning hours and cold, foul water lapped around their ankles.
Clothing, rugs, furniture, flooring, walls and doors littered the sides of the streets. Beautiful stainless steel appliances, stove, fridge and washer and dryers were grouped in front of the houses. Beautiful armoirs, and wooden bedrooms, dressers and night stands decorated the fronts of lawns. I felt huge sadness as I drove through subdivision after subdivision and noted the carnage.
December 4th, yesterday, and another rain started. The coolies need cleaned out of debris from that last flood and now they are filling up and overflowing once again. The victims of the last flood watch and worry that their newly cleaned houses will face yet more water.
My daughter lost two cars in that August flooding The car she drives now is the one I was driving. Finding her a used car that we could trust was not an option. She took my car and I bought a later model low mileage one of the same make and model. Last night she called and she bought that car back to my driveway to spend the night. I give her a lift home with a promise to return the next day with it. We are taking no chances on losing another car to the high waters.
The rain continues to fall. It's not a large downpour but it's steady and relentless. Hopefully the coolies will have time to drain.
Those that flooded in August are spending sleepless nights watching and waiting. I don't know if I could continue to live in my house had it flooded. Every big rain storm afterwards would have me spending sleepless nights waiting and watching.
The temperatures along with the rain are also steadily falling. I'm wrapped up in a blanket watching a movie on Netflix. It's just one of those days where a movie and a blanket is the best option I have. Add to that a cup of hot chocolate and I'm a happy homebound, warm and dry woman!
Monday, November 28, 2016
Secrets and Such
Carrie and I shared a ride to school this morning. I drove. She is only11 yrs old so it made sense that I would do the driving.
I wasn't able to attend her math class this morning so I headed home.
I've had the strangest day today. On my return trip from school, I noticed a young woman with a small child in tow. The school is located away from town but with subdivisions close by. I found a driveway and turned around, rolled down my window as I pulled along side of her and asked if she was going to the school. She was and I offered her a ride. This young woman was walking her second grader to school because her car wouldn't start. It was a couple of miles to that school from where I picked her up. I waited for her as she ran into the school to sign her son in late. She continuously thanked me on the ride back to her house for helping her. I offered to use my jumper cables to start her car but she declined the offer saying her mother was on her way to loan her a car.
My good deed done for the day, I got back to my house. The wind was gusting at 30mph and leaves were blown all over the yard, carport and patio. I visited with my neighbor for a short while then returned back to my house to settle in and wait for the storm that was forecast to hit around noon.
Soon the sound of a chainsaw could be heard and it sounded too close not to investigate. Stepping out onto the patio, I could see the branches of a tall bush in the neighboring yard across the fence as it came sailing earthward. I watched silently as the man raised the pole saw and began sawing off another limb of the tall bush. He noticed me watching and paused to say "hello". We exchanged greetings and I stepped back into the house only to be summoned a little later by the same gentlemen.
He had driven around the block and onto my driveway and was now approaching my house with a hand extended for a handshake. John was his name he said, smiling
to show a crooked row of teeth, beautiful brown eyes, crinkled corners from years of working outdoors. His shirt was a colorful combination of reds and soft greens woven into a plaid design, a pair of loose denim jeans and light brown work boots.
His full time job was working for a well know realty company rehabbing houses and cleaning up properties for resale. Today he was working side jobs to make extra money.
The tree he was cutting was more then one man could handle and part of it was draped over the fence that portioned off my back yard from the owner of the aforementioned bushes. John wanted to know if he could access my back yard to check on the branches he had been sawing on saying he would return tomorrow with some help.
I followed him into the back yard after unlocking the gate for him. Soon we were back in the driveway in front of the house, chatting about our families, his children and mine.
The economy of this town eventually entered the conversation. This polite man said he was waiting on the new president to improve the work situation in this town that has been grossly impacted by the oil recession. He smiled his wide smile and said Trump was going to change things and make it better.
I gazed in wonder at this kind gentlemen. I tried not to show the bewilderment I felt at his statement. You see, I was having this conversation with a black man who had voted for Trump. This was not a religious zealot, nor was he a racist, a bigot nor a misogamist, Alt-right wingnut. This was a diligent hard working gentle soul and he was a Trump supporter. He voted because he was promised change. It didn't occur to him that Trump's campaign was based on outright lie after lie and that the hate he stirred was filtering down into riots and increasing racial tensions. The racists finally had someone to support their beliefs and out from beneath their rocks, out of the shadows they came, proud and unafraid of any judgements now.
I had to reassess my views on the Trumpets. I realized that the promise of a better future, and of jobs to allow access to those jobs was the only thing this man was hearing from Trump's whole campaign.
He did mention that he liked Hillary but he still voted for Trump.
I've been so ashamed of the USA after this election. As I watch who Trump appoints to his cabinet, my fear for the future increases. I only hope John doesn't suffer from his decision to vote for Trump, because you see, John is a black man and living in the deep south.
I bid John goodbye with a handshake and a promise to let him have access to my back yard tomorrow so he can finish his tree cutting. I'm concerned for this man's future, along with mine and my grandchildren and you and yours.
Peace out. It's been a very eye opening day. I won't be posting this on Facebook. I'll just leave it right here for those to find, either by accident or because they follow this blog.
I'm done.
I wasn't able to attend her math class this morning so I headed home.
I've had the strangest day today. On my return trip from school, I noticed a young woman with a small child in tow. The school is located away from town but with subdivisions close by. I found a driveway and turned around, rolled down my window as I pulled along side of her and asked if she was going to the school. She was and I offered her a ride. This young woman was walking her second grader to school because her car wouldn't start. It was a couple of miles to that school from where I picked her up. I waited for her as she ran into the school to sign her son in late. She continuously thanked me on the ride back to her house for helping her. I offered to use my jumper cables to start her car but she declined the offer saying her mother was on her way to loan her a car.
My good deed done for the day, I got back to my house. The wind was gusting at 30mph and leaves were blown all over the yard, carport and patio. I visited with my neighbor for a short while then returned back to my house to settle in and wait for the storm that was forecast to hit around noon.
Soon the sound of a chainsaw could be heard and it sounded too close not to investigate. Stepping out onto the patio, I could see the branches of a tall bush in the neighboring yard across the fence as it came sailing earthward. I watched silently as the man raised the pole saw and began sawing off another limb of the tall bush. He noticed me watching and paused to say "hello". We exchanged greetings and I stepped back into the house only to be summoned a little later by the same gentlemen.
He had driven around the block and onto my driveway and was now approaching my house with a hand extended for a handshake. John was his name he said, smiling
to show a crooked row of teeth, beautiful brown eyes, crinkled corners from years of working outdoors. His shirt was a colorful combination of reds and soft greens woven into a plaid design, a pair of loose denim jeans and light brown work boots.
His full time job was working for a well know realty company rehabbing houses and cleaning up properties for resale. Today he was working side jobs to make extra money.
The tree he was cutting was more then one man could handle and part of it was draped over the fence that portioned off my back yard from the owner of the aforementioned bushes. John wanted to know if he could access my back yard to check on the branches he had been sawing on saying he would return tomorrow with some help.
I followed him into the back yard after unlocking the gate for him. Soon we were back in the driveway in front of the house, chatting about our families, his children and mine.
The economy of this town eventually entered the conversation. This polite man said he was waiting on the new president to improve the work situation in this town that has been grossly impacted by the oil recession. He smiled his wide smile and said Trump was going to change things and make it better.
I gazed in wonder at this kind gentlemen. I tried not to show the bewilderment I felt at his statement. You see, I was having this conversation with a black man who had voted for Trump. This was not a religious zealot, nor was he a racist, a bigot nor a misogamist, Alt-right wingnut. This was a diligent hard working gentle soul and he was a Trump supporter. He voted because he was promised change. It didn't occur to him that Trump's campaign was based on outright lie after lie and that the hate he stirred was filtering down into riots and increasing racial tensions. The racists finally had someone to support their beliefs and out from beneath their rocks, out of the shadows they came, proud and unafraid of any judgements now.
I had to reassess my views on the Trumpets. I realized that the promise of a better future, and of jobs to allow access to those jobs was the only thing this man was hearing from Trump's whole campaign.
He did mention that he liked Hillary but he still voted for Trump.
I've been so ashamed of the USA after this election. As I watch who Trump appoints to his cabinet, my fear for the future increases. I only hope John doesn't suffer from his decision to vote for Trump, because you see, John is a black man and living in the deep south.
I bid John goodbye with a handshake and a promise to let him have access to my back yard tomorrow so he can finish his tree cutting. I'm concerned for this man's future, along with mine and my grandchildren and you and yours.
Peace out. It's been a very eye opening day. I won't be posting this on Facebook. I'll just leave it right here for those to find, either by accident or because they follow this blog.
I'm done.
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
WOC (Waiting on Carrie)
I peeked in on her. The tall four poster bed encircles the place where she sleeps. I can see dim light filtering in from the mini blinds at the head of the bed. A lump of blankets outline her body. She stirs and turns to her side, her breath soft and shallow. She is deep in sleep and I hesitate to wake her.
Today is the day we do the baking. We have invited Chloe to come and help with the pecan pies and the bread pudding. Chloe can't get here until after the midday hour so an early morning visit to the public library is on our menu of things to do today.
It's time for me to get on some clothes and wake her up. We have much planned for this day; the day before Thanksgiving, 2016!
Today is the day we do the baking. We have invited Chloe to come and help with the pecan pies and the bread pudding. Chloe can't get here until after the midday hour so an early morning visit to the public library is on our menu of things to do today.
It's time for me to get on some clothes and wake her up. We have much planned for this day; the day before Thanksgiving, 2016!
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
November 22, 2016
Was it 1964? Yes, the year I was a freshmen in high school. We were all gathered in the gym in school to watch a circus act. I'm not really sure that is what was going on but I do remember it was my friend's birthday. To this day, I always remember to wish her a "Happy Birthday". She passed away about a month ago but I still noted on Facebook my birthday recognition of her day. This day stuck in my mind, not because of her birth date, but because this was the day when John F. Kennedy was shot and killed in Dallas, Texas.
The principal walked into the gym and in a very low voice, delivered the news. I can still remember watching the older kids begin to weep. A very somber group was filing out of the gym and to the buses waiting to take us home. The next days were spent watching the new president get sworn in and the funeral for the one before him. I remember John John and his salute to his father as the cassion carrying the president went by. Jackie, stoic, stood with one hand in Caroline's and one in John Junior's.
Again another November 22 and the two memories. Cathy's birthday and the anniversary of JFK's assignation. I pause for both memories.
This day we headed for the casino. While the husband sat at the blackjack tables, I sat at the bar and sipped on a hot chocolate. The poker slot machine is buried into the counter top. Three other people sat at the bar busily sipping their beers while feeding the slot machines with quarters. I am not one to part with my money in the slots. My visit to the casinos are purely to accompany the husband who likes to play "twenty-0ne". I people watch and talk to the bartender who watches the flat screen TV mounted on the wall above the rows of bottles of liquor.
No sound emits from that TV. Close captioned lines of speech march across the bottom of the screen. Usually the TV is set to a sports station. Tonight I wasn't much interested in TV or conversation so I sat with my cell phone and surfed the web.
Two hours passed quickly, which is our usual time spent at this casino. My phone beeped a message alert from the husband. "Are you hungry?"
The principal walked into the gym and in a very low voice, delivered the news. I can still remember watching the older kids begin to weep. A very somber group was filing out of the gym and to the buses waiting to take us home. The next days were spent watching the new president get sworn in and the funeral for the one before him. I remember John John and his salute to his father as the cassion carrying the president went by. Jackie, stoic, stood with one hand in Caroline's and one in John Junior's.
Again another November 22 and the two memories. Cathy's birthday and the anniversary of JFK's assignation. I pause for both memories.
This day we headed for the casino. While the husband sat at the blackjack tables, I sat at the bar and sipped on a hot chocolate. The poker slot machine is buried into the counter top. Three other people sat at the bar busily sipping their beers while feeding the slot machines with quarters. I am not one to part with my money in the slots. My visit to the casinos are purely to accompany the husband who likes to play "twenty-0ne". I people watch and talk to the bartender who watches the flat screen TV mounted on the wall above the rows of bottles of liquor.
No sound emits from that TV. Close captioned lines of speech march across the bottom of the screen. Usually the TV is set to a sports station. Tonight I wasn't much interested in TV or conversation so I sat with my cell phone and surfed the web.
Two hours passed quickly, which is our usual time spent at this casino. My phone beeped a message alert from the husband. "Are you hungry?"
The pit boss had compted our meal. We agreed to meet at Locos, the Mexican café in the casino. I wandered over to take my place in the line that was quickly forming. Soon I was seated and munching on chips and salsa while waiting on the husband. I looked around the room at the other patrons. Though the place looked busy, it was a slow night, one of many lately for this casino. The unemployment rate here is the highest in the nation. Layoffs have steadily increased for the past three years. Those that still have a job have taken a huge pay cut; sometimes even 50 percent of their pay has been cleaved.
We wait and we watch for any signs that will signal the oil industry is in a recovery mode. This election, the candidate promised the coal fields will once again become productive and the oil fields will recover from this slump. Politicians and their empty promises! We all know the coal fields are not returning. The environment is in serious need of attention and the pollution caused by coal has caused those fields to be abandoned as a source of energy.
Oil is a flooded market driving the cost of a barrel into the low forties. Supply and demand has set the price of oil so low that producing it here in the USA is at a loss for the major oil companies. Tankers are sitting offshore full of oil waiting to be delivered to refineries. This slump is much deeper then the one in the late eighties.
I watch as "For Rent" signs decorate the road ways and the subdivisions. People are trying to rent their homes to avoid foreclosure. Savings have evaporated and people are moving out of town. The husband predicts that in the following school year end, a drastic increase of people leaving will again leave more homes empty.
We wait and we watch and are thankful that we managed to save some money; our house and vehicles are paid in full. The car I just purchased was a low mileage second hand vehicle. I refused to buy a new car. That money can be used to live on for another two years. Caution is my middle name. I've been down this road before. We, the husband and I, have watched the volatility of this industry and know how to play safe.
Happy Birthday Cathy and a sad nod to JFK. You both are missed this day.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
Tuesday and Again with The Math
I'm up early and in the kitchen. 0500 hrs. and I'm fixing lunch for Carrie. Shrimp Alfredo, some crackers and some Fruit Loops along with an Apple juice drink is crammed into her small lunch satchel. It will soon be time to collect her and we will share a ride to Ernest Gallet, the elementary school she attends.
Some hours later: I'm sitting in my usual chair at Mrs. Steven's desk. I have my red pen and my pencil and my scratch paper and I'm ready for my math lesson. I'm surrounded by 5th graders, who I fear know much more about this subject then I know.
The lesson begins and again my attention doesn't waiver. I am making a supreme effort to be attentive to this class then I was some 50 yrs. ago when I sat in a 5th grade math class. Oh, but to only revisit that time and been more concerned with what those educators were trying to present to me. I'm embarrassed at my lack of motivation those many years ago.
Devisor, dividend and quotient. That's the language of math and the language we speak in class. We are learning to divide using two numbers as our devisor. Sound simple? I thought so too. My way of finding the devisor was haphazard and a "guesstimate". I've learned to "round" the devisor and do multiples of the rounded devisor to find the quotient! I'm excited and impressed. My instructor says this is the way she learned to find the quotient. I don't remember how I was taught and evidently if taught this way, I didn't "get it". I can't estimate the age of this math instructor, mainly because I'm just not good at guessing anyone's age. I know she is a grandmother and her daughter looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties AND she taught Teddy (the grandson) years ago when he was in the 5th grade. Teddy is now 23 yrs. old so that should give me some clue as to her age. My main point about wondering about her age is the method used with her by her teachers. Maybe my teachers taught the same way as hers but I just didn't pay attention.
I'm learning math again and possibly for the first time! I'm enjoying myself immensely and who would have thought that I would ever say that about math??
Soon Carrie will be home and it will be time to do math homework. I'm ready. I hope she is.
Some hours later: I'm sitting in my usual chair at Mrs. Steven's desk. I have my red pen and my pencil and my scratch paper and I'm ready for my math lesson. I'm surrounded by 5th graders, who I fear know much more about this subject then I know.
The lesson begins and again my attention doesn't waiver. I am making a supreme effort to be attentive to this class then I was some 50 yrs. ago when I sat in a 5th grade math class. Oh, but to only revisit that time and been more concerned with what those educators were trying to present to me. I'm embarrassed at my lack of motivation those many years ago.
Devisor, dividend and quotient. That's the language of math and the language we speak in class. We are learning to divide using two numbers as our devisor. Sound simple? I thought so too. My way of finding the devisor was haphazard and a "guesstimate". I've learned to "round" the devisor and do multiples of the rounded devisor to find the quotient! I'm excited and impressed. My instructor says this is the way she learned to find the quotient. I don't remember how I was taught and evidently if taught this way, I didn't "get it". I can't estimate the age of this math instructor, mainly because I'm just not good at guessing anyone's age. I know she is a grandmother and her daughter looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties AND she taught Teddy (the grandson) years ago when he was in the 5th grade. Teddy is now 23 yrs. old so that should give me some clue as to her age. My main point about wondering about her age is the method used with her by her teachers. Maybe my teachers taught the same way as hers but I just didn't pay attention.
I'm learning math again and possibly for the first time! I'm enjoying myself immensely and who would have thought that I would ever say that about math??
Soon Carrie will be home and it will be time to do math homework. I'm ready. I hope she is.
Monday, November 14, 2016
5th Grade Monday
Monday morning and the new material starts. I'll be in class again this week. I'm taking a math class and it happens to be filled with 5th graders. This is nothing like the math I had in the fifth grade. I don't think we hit this level of math until my senior year of school.
My attention is riveted on the teacher. Mrs. Stephens is a medium height, atheletic looking woman. She wears a pair of jeans, a t shirt and a pair of sneakers. Her thick brown hair is streaked lightly with strands of grey and falls to shoulder length. The hair is of the untamed variety. It's thickness and coarseness causes it to splay out around her head. The hairline is low leaving a small forehead. A pair of bright floral reading glasses is used to hold her hair off her face. During the lesson she reaches up and pulls those glasses down to the bridge of her nose while her hair becomes unbound from those glasses and springs outward and down to her face. Soon she will move the glasses back to the top of her head creating a "headband" effect for her hair.
She bounds around the room, engaging her students in the lesson she is delivering. Sometimes she speeds back to the white board on the wall and covers it with numbers. Her lessons move along quickly. She interjects stories and examples that co exist with what she teaches. Sometimes I can keep up with her and sometimes I just figure I'll figure it out when I get home.
Carrie sits a few rows away from me. I check occasionally to see if she is "getting it". Sometimes she gives me a thumbs up and at other times she waves her hand as if to say "somewhat". I know that when we get home we will compare our knowledge and together we will do her homework. She will listen as I go over the lesson of the day; she will do some problems and I will check her work.
I am bound and determined that she will become a good math scholar. It's a lot of work and frustrating at times.
This afternoon she came home and had something to eat and attempted her home work. After a few minutes she was complaining of a headache and being lightheaded so I excused her to her bedroom for a brief nap. I'll wake her in an hour or so and we will finish her homework.
My goal for Carrie is organization. Her skills in that department are lacking. I do notice improvement in the weeks I have been working with her. She now deposits her ID badge into a pocket of her book bag as soon as she gets home. Her clothes are laid out each night; she knows where everything is which makes it easier to find when she gets to school.
I'll be at the school again tomorrow in the event the teacher has new material to present. A test on Thursday and a quiz on Friday is scheduled. We will be busy this week.
I'm off to do some homework. My own understanding of math is improving. I'm enjoying math albeit my nerves still get 'on edge' when faced with new problems I don't understand.
My attention is riveted on the teacher. Mrs. Stephens is a medium height, atheletic looking woman. She wears a pair of jeans, a t shirt and a pair of sneakers. Her thick brown hair is streaked lightly with strands of grey and falls to shoulder length. The hair is of the untamed variety. It's thickness and coarseness causes it to splay out around her head. The hairline is low leaving a small forehead. A pair of bright floral reading glasses is used to hold her hair off her face. During the lesson she reaches up and pulls those glasses down to the bridge of her nose while her hair becomes unbound from those glasses and springs outward and down to her face. Soon she will move the glasses back to the top of her head creating a "headband" effect for her hair.
She bounds around the room, engaging her students in the lesson she is delivering. Sometimes she speeds back to the white board on the wall and covers it with numbers. Her lessons move along quickly. She interjects stories and examples that co exist with what she teaches. Sometimes I can keep up with her and sometimes I just figure I'll figure it out when I get home.
Carrie sits a few rows away from me. I check occasionally to see if she is "getting it". Sometimes she gives me a thumbs up and at other times she waves her hand as if to say "somewhat". I know that when we get home we will compare our knowledge and together we will do her homework. She will listen as I go over the lesson of the day; she will do some problems and I will check her work.
I am bound and determined that she will become a good math scholar. It's a lot of work and frustrating at times.
This afternoon she came home and had something to eat and attempted her home work. After a few minutes she was complaining of a headache and being lightheaded so I excused her to her bedroom for a brief nap. I'll wake her in an hour or so and we will finish her homework.
My goal for Carrie is organization. Her skills in that department are lacking. I do notice improvement in the weeks I have been working with her. She now deposits her ID badge into a pocket of her book bag as soon as she gets home. Her clothes are laid out each night; she knows where everything is which makes it easier to find when she gets to school.
I'll be at the school again tomorrow in the event the teacher has new material to present. A test on Thursday and a quiz on Friday is scheduled. We will be busy this week.
I'm off to do some homework. My own understanding of math is improving. I'm enjoying math albeit my nerves still get 'on edge' when faced with new problems I don't understand.
Friday, November 11, 2016
November and Many New Things
It's the holiday season. Baubles and beads have appeared in the stores and everyone is gearing up to let loose a hail of pierces into those credit cards. It's the season of giving and guilt followed by the season of regret, anger and amazement at the giving that they will be paying for in the remaining year. I have never played that game. My Christmas list is short and surrounds my immediate family. Years ago I released my siblings from gift giving. Coming from a large family that now lives scattered around the USA, the postage cost more then the gift that was given.
Now for a clinical update on that surgery on the left foot. The repair of the Achilles has been a long slow progress. I do not remember it being like this on the right foot when that Achilles was repaired. Maybe I have selective memory but I do not remember all the swelling; all the pain when walking and then the burning nerve pain. It is now about three months post op and finally the pains have noticeably decreased. There is still an occasional rif of pain, hot and intense but short in duration. In the past week I have been able to walk with it feeling as though a hot nail was imbedded in my foot. The pain in the foot centered around the incision site for the first month or two. Following that decrease in pain, the top part of my foot toward my toes became very painful. The following week the pain had moved to the mid part of my foot and the next week it was centered around my ankle topside of my foot. It's November the 11th and this surgery was performed around August 3rd. It seems as though my life has been disrupted for longer then this 3 month period.
Now on to the Trip. Carrie and I ran away this past weekend. We ran to New Orleans. It was an experience of many for Carrie. She has been to the city a few times before but she was a small child. This trip she was 11 yrs. old and able to note many of the strange things that are always going on in New Orleans. Our first afternoon was spent parking the car and walking over 5 blocks back to the Butterfly and Insectitorium.. By the time we got back to that event, there was less then 45 minutes to view the exhibit. We decided to try the next day. We were on Canal Street and the trolleys were zipping by. Carrie's first trip on the trolley was about to begin. We found a bench in the center of Canal and waited. Soon a trolley arrived. We bought an all day pass for 6.00 (3.00 per person) and climbed aboard. Carrie wanted to sit on a bench alongside the wall and that's where we sat. She watched as different characters boarded. Many of the riders were people that had worked in the many restaurants in the Quarters. Dressed in black pants and shirts, a name tag identified their place of employment. Tired from their shift, they sat with head bowed, eyes closed awaiting their stop to embark on their evening at home. Tomorrow they would board the trolley for another day of business.
An elderly man in soiled shirt and pants, face wrinkled and worn, with lips that covered toothless gums, he held on to a crumpled paper bag. As the trolley moved down the tracks, he stood and walked to the door area. He was not planning on getting off but only to reach into that paper bag and bring out a half eaten hamburger. Eating on the trolley is not allowed. He stood in the stair well out of sight of the trolley conductor and munched on his sandwich.
A young couple sat across from us holding hands. A middle aged couple held a quiet conversation, pointing at various sights along the way.
Carrie watched out the window as we moved down Canal Street. She watched as the elderly man munched his sandwich and as the restaurant workers left the trolley at their stops. She learned she could pull on the cable above our heads that signaled the trolley conductor a wish to stop and alight.
We got off midway and grabbed a spot on another bench to wait for another trolley heading back down Canal.
We headed back to the car, legs tired from all the walking and looking forward to a comfortable stay in a hotel. No reservations were made in advance so we headed to Metairie to look for a room. The Landmark Hotel provided a room for the night. We sat in the hotel café too tired to venture out and look for a place to eat. A wedding reception was being held in the Mardi Gras room. Couples came in dressed in formal attire, beaded dresses and glittering shoes, the ladies walked by with their gentlemen dressed in tuxedos. Both man and woman wore masks that sported long black feathers and beads; the men without the feathers but masks that were encrusted with colored beads and baubles.
We watched as they paraded into the hotel and past our table. People watching is what New Orleans offers in abundance.
The city and it's climate make a liveable arrangement for the homeless. As we walked the city the next day, people wrapped up cocoon like in their blankets dotted the city. One young man had a box sitting beside resting place for donations, three books rested at his head, one open to his last reading spot.
A man with a violin stood at one corner playing for pay. Carrie begged a dollar to put in his box. We stood for a few minutes to listen and then moved on.
Walking down Decatur, a wedding party was marching down the street. A band marched and played as the bride high stepped it along with her huge bridal party. Always something to see in New Orleans if you hang around long enough.
Our second day, we went to the Aquarium of the Americas. Eels, alligators and lots and lots of fish, penquins and frogs, sharks in tanks with scuba divers and mermaids made for an interesting afternoon. I had to take a few breaks to sit and rest my legs. I had aching leg muscles for the next three days.
Lunch was at the Riverwalk mall. I let Carrie select the type of food to eat; I chose the location. We sat inside and watched as the cruise ships loaded their passengers. More walking to get back to the car and we had had enough of New Orleans. Another 3 hrs on the road and we were back home in Lafayette. Carrie is very easy to travel with. She just goes with the flow but now she was tired and ready to get to bed. School again tomorrow. We enjoyed out little weekend getaway.
November and Many New Things
It's the holiday season. Baubles and beads have appeared in the stores and everyone is gearing up to let loose a hail of pierces into those credit cards. It's the season of giving and guilt followed by the season of regret, anger and amazement at the giving that they will be paying for in the remaining year. I have never played that game. My Christmas list is short and surrounds my immediate family. Years ago I released my siblings from gift giving. Coming from a large family that now lives scattered around the USA, the postage cost more then the gift that was given.
Now for a clinical update on that surgery on the left foot. The repair of the Achilles has been a long slow progress. I do not remember it being like this on the right foot when that Achilles was repaired. Maybe I have selective memory but I do not remember all the swelling; all the pain when walking and then the burning nerve pain. It is now about three months post op and finally the pains have noticeably decreased. There is still an occasional rif of pain, hot and intense but short in duration. In the past week I have been able to walk with it feeling as though a hot nail was imbedded in my foot. The pain in the foot centered around the incision site for the first month or two. Following that decrease in pain, the top part of my foot toward my toes became very painful. The following week the pain had moved to the mid part of my foot and the next week it was centered around my ankle topside of my foot. It's November the 11th and this surgery was performed around August 3rd. It seems as though my life has been disrupted for longer then this 3 month period.
Now on to the Trip. Carrie and I ran away this past weekend. We ran to New Orleans. It was an experience of many for Carrie. She has been to the city a few times before but she was a small child. This trip she was 11 yrs. old and able to note many of the strange things that are always going on in New Orleans. Our first afternoon was spent parking the car and walking over 5 blocks back to the Butterfly and Insectitorium.. By the time we got back to that event, there was less then 45 minutes to view the exhibit. We decided to try the next day. We were on Canal Street and the trolleys were zipping by. Carrie's first trip on the trolley was about to begin. We found a bench in the center of Canal and waited. Soon a trolley arrived. We bought an all day pass for 6.00 (3.00 per person) and climbed aboard. Carrie wanted to sit on a bench alongside the wall and that's where we sat. She watched as different characters boarded. Many of the riders were people that had worked in the many restaurants in the Quarters. Dressed in black pants and shirts, a name tag identified their place of employment. Tired from their shift, they sat with head bowed, eyes closed awaiting their stop to embark on their evening at home. Tomorrow they would board the trolley for another day of business.
An elderly man in soiled shirt and pants, face wrinkled and worn, with lips that covered toothless gums, he held on to a crumpled paper bag. As the trolley moved down the tracks, he stood and walked to the door area. He was not planning on getting off but only to reach into that paper bag and bring out a half eaten hamburger. Eating on the trolley is not allowed. He stood in the stair well out of sight of the trolley conductor and munched on his sandwich.
A young couple sat across from us holding hands. A middle aged couple held a quiet conversation, pointing at various sights along the way.
Carrie watched out the window as we moved down Canal Street. She watched as the elderly man munched his sandwich and as the restaurant workers left the trolley at their stops. She learned she could pull on the cable above our heads that signaled the trolley conductor a wish to stop and alight.
We got off midway and grabbed a spot on another bench to wait for another trolley heading back down Canal.
We headed back to the car, legs tired from all the walking and looking forward to a comfortable stay in a hotel. No reservations were made in advance so we headed to Metairie to look for a room. The Landmark Hotel provided a room for the night. We sat in the hotel café too tired to venture out and look for a place to eat. A wedding reception was being held in the Mardi Gras room. Couples came in dressed in formal attire, beaded dresses and glittering shoes, the ladies walked by with their gentlemen dressed in tuxedos. Both man and woman wore masks that sported long black feathers and beads; the men without the feathers but masks that were encrusted with colored beads and baubles.
We watched as they paraded into the hotel and past our table. People watching is what New Orleans offers in abundance.
The city and it's climate make a liveable arrangement for the homeless. As we walked the city the next day, people wrapped up cocoon like in their blankets dotted the city. One young man had a box sitting beside resting place for donations, three books rested at his head, one open to his last reading spot.
A man with a violin stood at one corner playing for pay. Carrie begged a dollar to put in his box. We stood for a few minutes to listen and then moved on.
Walking down Decatur, a wedding party was marching down the street. A band marched and played as the bride high stepped it along with her huge bridal party. Always something to see in New Orleans if you hang around long enough.
Our second day, we went to the Aquarium of the Americas. Eels, alligators and lots and lots of fish, penquins and frogs, sharks in tanks with scuba divers and mermaids made for an interesting afternoon. I had to take a few breaks to sit and rest my legs. I had aching leg muscles for the next three days.
Lunch was at the Riverwalk mall. I let Carrie select the type of food to eat; I chose the location. We sat inside and watched as the cruise ships loaded their passengers. More walking to get back to the car and we had had enough of New Orleans. Another 3 hrs on the road and we were back home in Lafayette. Carrie is very easy to travel with. She just goes with the flow but now she was tired and ready to get to bed. School again tomorrow. We enjoyed out little weekend getaway.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Leadership
We were promised some cooler weather. I'm not happy with the reality. It did cool down a little after dark but not enough to hint at fall weather.
I did watch the debates Monday night. I'm amazed at the people that proudly proclaim they didn't watch them. These are the same people that will post their political views on Facebook. They repost memes they find, repeat sound bites they glean from Fox News Channel and can not extrapolate o
on their convictions. Yet they didn't have time to watch the debates between the two candidates? Those that did watch came with their own convictions and it didn't matter much what they watched; what they heard and how truthful it was. The ridiculous behavior of the possible future leader of the free world mattered not to them.
I'm appalled that our country might be represented by a crude, brash narcissistic unapologetic grand standing candidate. This man cannot hold a polite discussion. The 50 times he interrupted his opponent with rude remarks could have been stopped by the moderator. It wasn't. His opponent kept a cool demeanor, ignoring his rudeness. This man is proposed by his party to lead this country in interactions with foreign leaders? I can predict his attitude will not enhance any relationships yet I hear people proud of their support for this man. They will vote their party line no matter what he does or says.
I'm looking forward to the end of this election season. Though the male candidate is entertaining, he is scary.
Let the election process work this out. I'm constantly watching.
I did watch the debates Monday night. I'm amazed at the people that proudly proclaim they didn't watch them. These are the same people that will post their political views on Facebook. They repost memes they find, repeat sound bites they glean from Fox News Channel and can not extrapolate o
on their convictions. Yet they didn't have time to watch the debates between the two candidates? Those that did watch came with their own convictions and it didn't matter much what they watched; what they heard and how truthful it was. The ridiculous behavior of the possible future leader of the free world mattered not to them.
I'm appalled that our country might be represented by a crude, brash narcissistic unapologetic grand standing candidate. This man cannot hold a polite discussion. The 50 times he interrupted his opponent with rude remarks could have been stopped by the moderator. It wasn't. His opponent kept a cool demeanor, ignoring his rudeness. This man is proposed by his party to lead this country in interactions with foreign leaders? I can predict his attitude will not enhance any relationships yet I hear people proud of their support for this man. They will vote their party line no matter what he does or says.
I'm looking forward to the end of this election season. Though the male candidate is entertaining, he is scary.
Let the election process work this out. I'm constantly watching.
Monday, September 26, 2016
September Ending 2016
Season 3 of The Good Wife plays across my TV screen. This part of my life is spent binge watching television shows that I had neglected. I scroll through the offerings on the menu and select shows that have won multiple awards by the movie and television industry. Recommendations from friends and acquaintances have also helped steer me to what I'll select.
Left foot summary of yesterdays activities. In a word, lots of SWELLING. The pain corresponds to the amount of swelling so I strive to monitor and decrease that amount. Elevate, elevate, ice and elevate. This leaves me with not much time to catch up on all that house work I wanted to get done.
My plan has changed. I'll take one room at a time and work with many interruptions and just be grateful I'm not on crutches or the knee walker. I do have to remind myself that even with the pain and the swelling, I'm able to be more mobile then during the pre and post surgery time. I'm appreciative, relieved and still working on developing patience.
Another bright spot..FALL is here. As I struggle to draw in a deep breath in the heavy wet humid oxygen supply that surrounds us; as the temperatures climb into the 90's, I chant "Fall is here..Fall is here."
We are promised a cool front in a few days. They (weather person) is promising dry cool air. I'm so ready to see the last dying breaths of summer. Summer is not a place you want to be while in the deep south.
It's time to get Carrie to the bus stop. She has stayed with me all weekend except for a few hours when she went to her house to visit with some friends that came to see her.
I like it when she is with me Nothing but improvements here. I'm content.
Left foot summary of yesterdays activities. In a word, lots of SWELLING. The pain corresponds to the amount of swelling so I strive to monitor and decrease that amount. Elevate, elevate, ice and elevate. This leaves me with not much time to catch up on all that house work I wanted to get done.
My plan has changed. I'll take one room at a time and work with many interruptions and just be grateful I'm not on crutches or the knee walker. I do have to remind myself that even with the pain and the swelling, I'm able to be more mobile then during the pre and post surgery time. I'm appreciative, relieved and still working on developing patience.
Another bright spot..FALL is here. As I struggle to draw in a deep breath in the heavy wet humid oxygen supply that surrounds us; as the temperatures climb into the 90's, I chant "Fall is here..Fall is here."
We are promised a cool front in a few days. They (weather person) is promising dry cool air. I'm so ready to see the last dying breaths of summer. Summer is not a place you want to be while in the deep south.
It's time to get Carrie to the bus stop. She has stayed with me all weekend except for a few hours when she went to her house to visit with some friends that came to see her.
I like it when she is with me Nothing but improvements here. I'm content.
Saturday, September 24, 2016
10 Days Gone
Now 10 days post cast removal and the improvement is phenomenal! Most of the pain is gone. I am not wearing the CAM walker. A pair of backless shoes with a thick sole does the trick. I'm still trying to take breaks and use ice packs throughout the day. The swelling continues after I have been up walking for a while but I'm not complaining. I've made it through the painful part of weight bearing.
Next week the temperatures are forecast to drop to a bearable 80 degrees with night time lows in the upper 70's and I'm so ready to get out of the heat and humidity. My foot should be well on it's way to mending and I'll be able to enjoy the fall and winter months here. I had this surgery in August as it's the month that I hide away in my house. The temperatures are brutal in August and September. I planned on being "foot healthy" by the time the temperatures started dropping and it appears it will be as planned!
This has been my little update to the foot experience 2016!
10 Days Gone
Now 10 days post cast removal and the improvement is phenomenal! Most of the pain is gone. I am not wearing the CAM walker. A pair of backless shoes with a thick sole does the trick. I'm still trying to take breaks and use ice packs throughout the day. The swelling continues after I have been up walking for a while but I'm not complaining. I've made it through the painful part of weight bearing.
Next week the temperatures are forecast to drop to a bearable 80 degrees with night time lows in the upper 70's and I'm so ready to get out of the heat and humidity. My foot should be well on it's way to mending and I'll be able to enjoy the fall and winter months here. I had this surgery in August as it's the month that I hide away in my house. The temperatures are brutal in August and September. I planned on being "foot healthy" by the time the temperatures started dropping and it appears it will be as planned!
This has been my little update to the foot experience 2016!
15 minutes of Painless Movement
That's right folks! I've now advanced to "pain free BEFORE swelling". I have a few luxurious moments, maybe even minutes that feet on floor and a slow walk to the kitchen is pain free! I've just slipped out of bed, darkness wraps the room at 0600 hrs. Me feet explore the floor beside my bed to find my backless slippers. I wiggle my feet into them and then take a huge breath. I'm prepared for the pain of standing. Cautiously I recruit all my muscles to move into a full weight bearing stance on my feet.
Imagine my sweet surprise when the left operative foot did not send shooting spike like pain through my foot. One step, then another around the darkened room while holding on to the bed frame waiting for the pain to surprise attack. Nothing. I don't want to stumble into anything and contemplate turning on my cell phone flashlight to find my way to the door. The husband sighs softly in his slumber and I don't want to disturb him. He has his own sleep issues so I try to be as quiet as possible.
Down the hall and to the kitchen, stepping lightly and still pain free. I'm so excited. This is progress. It has been nine days now since the cast came off. Nine days of walking and 7 of them excruciatingly painful.
This is why people go to rehab. I refuse rehab. I can force myself to do what it takes to get back to normal. I can force myself to do the painful steps, the painful stretches and the painful balance exercises. If you can't do this, then rehab is a must for you. The physical therapist will encourage, guide and then even insist that you do the painful part of rehabilitation. I can do this to myself. I'm very motivated to get well and get this behind me.
At this time, I will explain the "pain free walk" I had from the bedroom to the coffee pot. I have been in bed all night. The foot has been elevated with an ice pack before sleep. The foot has minimal swelling in the early morning so my pain in minimal. I'm sure by this afternoon after hours of up and down walking the swelling will return and along with it the pain.
I'm alright with that. At least this morning pain free 15 minutes gives me incentive and lets me know I'm moving in the right direction with this surgery and rehab!
I'm going to get up and gingerly put that foot down with weight on it and walk to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. I'll note how much time passes before the pain returns and I know it will. I'm pumped! I see actual full mobility in my future!!
Imagine my sweet surprise when the left operative foot did not send shooting spike like pain through my foot. One step, then another around the darkened room while holding on to the bed frame waiting for the pain to surprise attack. Nothing. I don't want to stumble into anything and contemplate turning on my cell phone flashlight to find my way to the door. The husband sighs softly in his slumber and I don't want to disturb him. He has his own sleep issues so I try to be as quiet as possible.
Down the hall and to the kitchen, stepping lightly and still pain free. I'm so excited. This is progress. It has been nine days now since the cast came off. Nine days of walking and 7 of them excruciatingly painful.
This is why people go to rehab. I refuse rehab. I can force myself to do what it takes to get back to normal. I can force myself to do the painful steps, the painful stretches and the painful balance exercises. If you can't do this, then rehab is a must for you. The physical therapist will encourage, guide and then even insist that you do the painful part of rehabilitation. I can do this to myself. I'm very motivated to get well and get this behind me.
At this time, I will explain the "pain free walk" I had from the bedroom to the coffee pot. I have been in bed all night. The foot has been elevated with an ice pack before sleep. The foot has minimal swelling in the early morning so my pain in minimal. I'm sure by this afternoon after hours of up and down walking the swelling will return and along with it the pain.
I'm alright with that. At least this morning pain free 15 minutes gives me incentive and lets me know I'm moving in the right direction with this surgery and rehab!
I'm going to get up and gingerly put that foot down with weight on it and walk to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. I'll note how much time passes before the pain returns and I know it will. I'm pumped! I see actual full mobility in my future!!
15 minutes of Painless Movement
That's right folks! I've now advanced to "pain free BEFORE swelling". I have a few luxurious moments, maybe even minutes that feet on floor and a slow walk to the kitchen is pain free! I've just slipped out of bed, darkness wraps the room at 0600 hrs. Me feet explore the floor beside my bed to find my backless slippers. I wiggle my feet into them and then take a huge breath. I'm prepared for the pain of standing. Cautiously I recruit all my muscles to move into a full weight bearing stance on my feet.
Imagine my sweet surprise when the left operative foot did not send shooting spike like pain through my foot. One step, then another around the darkened room while holding on to the bed frame waiting for the pain to surprise attack. Nothing. I don't want to stumble into anything and contemplate turning on my cell phone flashlight to find my way to the door. The husband sighs softly in his slumber and I don't want to disturb him. He has his own sleep issues so I try to be as quiet as possible.
Down the hall and to the kitchen, stepping lightly and still pain free. I'm so excited. This is progress. It has been nine days now since the cast came off. Nine days of walking and 7 of them excruciatingly painful.
This is why people go to rehab. I refuse rehab. I can force myself to do what it takes to get back to normal. I can force myself to do the painful steps, the painful stretches and the painful balance exercises. If you can't do this, then rehab is a must for you. The physical therapist will encourage, guide and then even insist that you do the painful part of rehabilitation. I can do this to myself. I'm very motivated to get well and get this behind me.
At this time, I will explain the "pain free walk" I had from the bedroom to the coffee pot. I have been in bed all night. The foot has been elevated with an ice pack before sleep. The foot has minimal swelling in the early morning so my pain in minimal. I'm sure by this afternoon after hours of up and down walking the swelling will return and along with it the pain.
I'm alright with that. At least this morning pain free 15 minutes gives me incentive and lets me know I'm moving in the right direction with this surgery and rehab!
I'm going to get up and gingerly put that foot down with weight on it and walk to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. I'll note how much time passes before the pain returns and I know it will. I'm pumped! I see actual full mobility in my future!!
Imagine my sweet surprise when the left operative foot did not send shooting spike like pain through my foot. One step, then another around the darkened room while holding on to the bed frame waiting for the pain to surprise attack. Nothing. I don't want to stumble into anything and contemplate turning on my cell phone flashlight to find my way to the door. The husband sighs softly in his slumber and I don't want to disturb him. He has his own sleep issues so I try to be as quiet as possible.
Down the hall and to the kitchen, stepping lightly and still pain free. I'm so excited. This is progress. It has been nine days now since the cast came off. Nine days of walking and 7 of them excruciatingly painful.
This is why people go to rehab. I refuse rehab. I can force myself to do what it takes to get back to normal. I can force myself to do the painful steps, the painful stretches and the painful balance exercises. If you can't do this, then rehab is a must for you. The physical therapist will encourage, guide and then even insist that you do the painful part of rehabilitation. I can do this to myself. I'm very motivated to get well and get this behind me.
At this time, I will explain the "pain free walk" I had from the bedroom to the coffee pot. I have been in bed all night. The foot has been elevated with an ice pack before sleep. The foot has minimal swelling in the early morning so my pain in minimal. I'm sure by this afternoon after hours of up and down walking the swelling will return and along with it the pain.
I'm alright with that. At least this morning pain free 15 minutes gives me incentive and lets me know I'm moving in the right direction with this surgery and rehab!
I'm going to get up and gingerly put that foot down with weight on it and walk to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. I'll note how much time passes before the pain returns and I know it will. I'm pumped! I see actual full mobility in my future!!
Friday, September 23, 2016
Haglund's Deformity..it's an Update
This is a post strictly for personal reference. It appears that my surgery in August 2016, though it was the SECOND time for this type of surgery, was one that I was ill prepared to survive! I had this same surgery in 2010 on my right foot. I should have remembered what it entailed but apparently I have a great skill recently discovered, to forget pain and the time it takes to heal. I've been most impatient and yes, even angry, following this surgery on my left foot.
Browsing through my posts on the 2010 surgery, I realized there was not much difference in this recovery period except for my attitude which sucks. Ask my husband. He will verify that I have been quite the bitch, moody and impatient and whiny. I should be embarrassed to even admit this but..truth is truth. I am what I am.
Today is 8 days post cast which kept me immobilized for six weeks, hereby known as "the bitchy whiny moody weeks". The husband was quite wonderful, waiting on me. He cooked. He cleaned and he tried to stay out of my way.
This post is to record the 8 days it took for the pain to finally cease from putting weight on my left foot. Finally I don't cringe and whimper and I just want to record this in the event I grow a third foot that might need an Achilles tendon repair. Hopefully enduring two of these surgeries will carry me through to the end of my life.
I still have pain but nothing like the first seven days of trying to walk on this foot. Granted, I have pushed the recoup time to the limit. The first seven days were to be light weight bearing followed by the second week post cast to a little more weight and finally into the third week of walking with full weight bearing. I've scrunched that time up into 8 days. I'm wearing a boot as much as possible. The surgeon wanted that boot on whenever I was up and about. I haven't obeyed those orders entirely.
The swelling comes and goes. I do want to note the swelling. Ice packs are applied when I'm laying around...but swelling is to be expected since I'm 7weeks and 3 days post op and out of the cast only 8 days.
That's it..Just a blog for my memory. I'll forget these details so I want to record them before that happens.
Browsing through my posts on the 2010 surgery, I realized there was not much difference in this recovery period except for my attitude which sucks. Ask my husband. He will verify that I have been quite the bitch, moody and impatient and whiny. I should be embarrassed to even admit this but..truth is truth. I am what I am.
Today is 8 days post cast which kept me immobilized for six weeks, hereby known as "the bitchy whiny moody weeks". The husband was quite wonderful, waiting on me. He cooked. He cleaned and he tried to stay out of my way.
This post is to record the 8 days it took for the pain to finally cease from putting weight on my left foot. Finally I don't cringe and whimper and I just want to record this in the event I grow a third foot that might need an Achilles tendon repair. Hopefully enduring two of these surgeries will carry me through to the end of my life.
I still have pain but nothing like the first seven days of trying to walk on this foot. Granted, I have pushed the recoup time to the limit. The first seven days were to be light weight bearing followed by the second week post cast to a little more weight and finally into the third week of walking with full weight bearing. I've scrunched that time up into 8 days. I'm wearing a boot as much as possible. The surgeon wanted that boot on whenever I was up and about. I haven't obeyed those orders entirely.
The swelling comes and goes. I do want to note the swelling. Ice packs are applied when I'm laying around...but swelling is to be expected since I'm 7weeks and 3 days post op and out of the cast only 8 days.
That's it..Just a blog for my memory. I'll forget these details so I want to record them before that happens.
Haglund's Deformity..it's an Update
This is a post strictly for personal reference. It appears that my surgery in August 2016, though it was the SECOND time for this type of surgery, was one that I was ill prepared to survive! I had this same surgery in 2010 on my right foot. I should have remembered what it entailed but apparently I have a great skill recently discovered, to forget pain and the time it takes to heal. I've been most impatient and yes, even angry, following this surgery on my left foot.
Browsing through my posts on the 2010 surgery, I realized there was not much difference in this recovery period except for my attitude which sucks. Ask my husband. He will verify that I have been quite the bitch, moody and impatient and whiny. I should be embarrassed to even admit this but..truth is truth. I am what I am.
Today is 8 days post cast which kept me immobilized for six weeks, hereby known as "the bitchy whiny moody weeks". The husband was quite wonderful, waiting on me. He cooked. He cleaned and he tried to stay out of my way.
This post is to record the 8 days it took for the pain to finally cease from putting weight on my left foot. Finally I don't cringe and whimper and I just want to record this in the event I grow a third foot that might need an Achilles tendon repair. Hopefully enduring two of these surgeries will carry me through to the end of my life.
I still have pain but nothing like the first seven days of trying to walk on this foot. Granted, I have pushed the recoup time to the limit. The first seven days were to be light weight bearing followed by the second week post cast to a little more weight and finally into the third week of walking with full weight bearing. I've scrunched that time up into 8 days. I'm wearing a boot as much as possible. The surgeon wanted that boot on whenever I was up and about. I haven't obeyed those orders entirely.
The swelling comes and goes. I do want to note the swelling. Ice packs are applied when I'm laying around...but swelling is to be expected since I'm 7weeks and 3 days post op and out of the cast only 8 days.
That's it..Just a blog for my memory. I'll forget these details so I want to record them before that happens.
Browsing through my posts on the 2010 surgery, I realized there was not much difference in this recovery period except for my attitude which sucks. Ask my husband. He will verify that I have been quite the bitch, moody and impatient and whiny. I should be embarrassed to even admit this but..truth is truth. I am what I am.
Today is 8 days post cast which kept me immobilized for six weeks, hereby known as "the bitchy whiny moody weeks". The husband was quite wonderful, waiting on me. He cooked. He cleaned and he tried to stay out of my way.
This post is to record the 8 days it took for the pain to finally cease from putting weight on my left foot. Finally I don't cringe and whimper and I just want to record this in the event I grow a third foot that might need an Achilles tendon repair. Hopefully enduring two of these surgeries will carry me through to the end of my life.
I still have pain but nothing like the first seven days of trying to walk on this foot. Granted, I have pushed the recoup time to the limit. The first seven days were to be light weight bearing followed by the second week post cast to a little more weight and finally into the third week of walking with full weight bearing. I've scrunched that time up into 8 days. I'm wearing a boot as much as possible. The surgeon wanted that boot on whenever I was up and about. I haven't obeyed those orders entirely.
The swelling comes and goes. I do want to note the swelling. Ice packs are applied when I'm laying around...but swelling is to be expected since I'm 7weeks and 3 days post op and out of the cast only 8 days.
That's it..Just a blog for my memory. I'll forget these details so I want to record them before that happens.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Left Foot, Second time around
For future reference, it started on August 8th, 2016. Surgery date.
I've whined and cried and cussed and whined some more. I have not coped well this time. March 19, 2010 I had a bone spur removed from my right heel and behind the Achilles tendon. Haglund's deformity meant the retrocalcaneous would be shaved down as well as the bone spur removed. To do this the Achilles tendon had to be detached and reattached using anchors.
Six years later and once again the familiar pain but this time on the left foot. A surgery, a s;ont for two weeks and then a cast for another 4 weeks, I rolled around on a knee scooter. One week ago I graduated to a "boot". Getting the cast off was a goal and one that I looked forward to with great glee
. It appears that I have forgotten the time it takes to heal. I actually thought, once in the boot, I would be walking around just as the rest of the world who enjoy full mobility. I forgot how painful it was to walk for the first time.
Today I went back to my March 2010 postings and read everything I had written about the first surgery. I noted the time, the pain and the frustration with this surgery. It helped. I can compare the first surgery experience to where I am with this recovery time. How could I have forgotten?
An ice pack graces my foot which is elevated. I've taken frequent breaks today and sat down to rest that foot. I've promised myself I will slow down a bit. I'm on target. It will heal. Eventually I will walk pain free. I've been pushing it too much. I wasn't supposed to be full weight bearing for another two more weeks.
Patience. I'm working on that virtue.
I've whined and cried and cussed and whined some more. I have not coped well this time. March 19, 2010 I had a bone spur removed from my right heel and behind the Achilles tendon. Haglund's deformity meant the retrocalcaneous would be shaved down as well as the bone spur removed. To do this the Achilles tendon had to be detached and reattached using anchors.
Six years later and once again the familiar pain but this time on the left foot. A surgery, a s;ont for two weeks and then a cast for another 4 weeks, I rolled around on a knee scooter. One week ago I graduated to a "boot". Getting the cast off was a goal and one that I looked forward to with great glee
. It appears that I have forgotten the time it takes to heal. I actually thought, once in the boot, I would be walking around just as the rest of the world who enjoy full mobility. I forgot how painful it was to walk for the first time.
Today I went back to my March 2010 postings and read everything I had written about the first surgery. I noted the time, the pain and the frustration with this surgery. It helped. I can compare the first surgery experience to where I am with this recovery time. How could I have forgotten?
An ice pack graces my foot which is elevated. I've taken frequent breaks today and sat down to rest that foot. I've promised myself I will slow down a bit. I'm on target. It will heal. Eventually I will walk pain free. I've been pushing it too much. I wasn't supposed to be full weight bearing for another two more weeks.
Patience. I'm working on that virtue.
Thursday, August 25, 2016
August 12, 2016 and The Rain Came Down
It started early Friday morning. That would be the 11th of August. Carrie had spent the night. My foot surgery was now 3 days in the past and I was mobile by use of a knee walker. Everything I do since that surgery now takes triple time. Carrie and I had rehearsed this new development and she knew she would be responsible for assisting her own school preparations. I had her lay out her school uniform, her socks, shoes and backpack. We were prepared.
Friday morning and as planned, I rolled to her bedroom on the knee scooter and roused her to start her day. Carrie is very compliant. She dressed, refused breakfast and grabbed her book bag and lunch bag as we headed for the car. Standing in the carport, we looked out into the pouring rain. Of course my car was not on the carport but parked out in the rain.
Getting into the car was going to take some effort. I would have to roll myself to the passenger side, get the door open, maneuver the scooter as close to the passenger seat as possible, slide off the scooter on one leg, hoisting that leg over the scooter while picking up my useless left foot and dragging it into the car all the while the rain is a deluge. This wasn't going to go well. Carrie had already unlocked the car and tossed in her book bag and lunch bag while trying to keep dry beneath an umbrella she grasped in one hand. Unsuccessful attempt at keeping dry, we decided to go back into the house and discuss a new plan of action while she got a new uniform shirt and relief herself of the drenched one she now wore.
By this time, I was contemplating just skipping the whole school experience. The husband walked into the room and announced that all the Lafayette Parish schools were closed. Carrie was back into her pajamas and settled in with the laptop before I could get my one shoe off. (I can't wear a shoe on the surgery foot side).
It rained and rained and rained. Throughout the day, into the night and the next day, the rain came down. This rain was not in droplets but in sheets. The coolies filled up, the road became invisible and the water crept toward homes and businesses. Reports were coming in of houses inundated with water. Eight inches in the homes, then 3 ft. with automobiles submerged and power lines down and the rain kept coming down.
What started Friday has now maintained it's grip on the southwestern part of Louisiana. Homes are ruined. It appears this is an historic flood, not seen since the early 40's. Records are being broke for water levels and flood levels.
We are mostly home bound with most of the roads in the area closed and impassable. The local TV stations broadcast videos of all the water and where shelters are open.
I watched as boats went in to the big new hotel on Pinhook Street to rescue the people staying there. The cars they used to get to shelter from this storm were now only visible by the rooftops. The locals were floating toward the hotel in their boats to rescue.
By Sunday the streets were lined with household furnishings, slabs of broken soaked sheetrock which once defined living spaces in the houses that flooded. Mattresses, sinks, cabinets and clothes left in waist high piles; boats and canoes beached now that only yesterday were pulling people from their homes, the cleanup has begun.
Carrie will be spending the next days In my home. The daughter's home and car were underwater. I mourn the fact that I cannot be much help to anyone during this time. I'm bound to the knee scooter waiting for healing from foot surgery. I watch the news reports and view the devastation around me while being extremely thankful my home stayed dry.
FEMA has already been activated and daily notices of the parishes awarded help has been broadcast informing flood victims of where to find help. It's going to be a touch couple of months coming up for the town of Lafayette and the state of Louisiana because the Rain Came Down.
Friday morning and as planned, I rolled to her bedroom on the knee scooter and roused her to start her day. Carrie is very compliant. She dressed, refused breakfast and grabbed her book bag and lunch bag as we headed for the car. Standing in the carport, we looked out into the pouring rain. Of course my car was not on the carport but parked out in the rain.
Getting into the car was going to take some effort. I would have to roll myself to the passenger side, get the door open, maneuver the scooter as close to the passenger seat as possible, slide off the scooter on one leg, hoisting that leg over the scooter while picking up my useless left foot and dragging it into the car all the while the rain is a deluge. This wasn't going to go well. Carrie had already unlocked the car and tossed in her book bag and lunch bag while trying to keep dry beneath an umbrella she grasped in one hand. Unsuccessful attempt at keeping dry, we decided to go back into the house and discuss a new plan of action while she got a new uniform shirt and relief herself of the drenched one she now wore.
By this time, I was contemplating just skipping the whole school experience. The husband walked into the room and announced that all the Lafayette Parish schools were closed. Carrie was back into her pajamas and settled in with the laptop before I could get my one shoe off. (I can't wear a shoe on the surgery foot side).
It rained and rained and rained. Throughout the day, into the night and the next day, the rain came down. This rain was not in droplets but in sheets. The coolies filled up, the road became invisible and the water crept toward homes and businesses. Reports were coming in of houses inundated with water. Eight inches in the homes, then 3 ft. with automobiles submerged and power lines down and the rain kept coming down.
What started Friday has now maintained it's grip on the southwestern part of Louisiana. Homes are ruined. It appears this is an historic flood, not seen since the early 40's. Records are being broke for water levels and flood levels.
We are mostly home bound with most of the roads in the area closed and impassable. The local TV stations broadcast videos of all the water and where shelters are open.
I watched as boats went in to the big new hotel on Pinhook Street to rescue the people staying there. The cars they used to get to shelter from this storm were now only visible by the rooftops. The locals were floating toward the hotel in their boats to rescue.
By Sunday the streets were lined with household furnishings, slabs of broken soaked sheetrock which once defined living spaces in the houses that flooded. Mattresses, sinks, cabinets and clothes left in waist high piles; boats and canoes beached now that only yesterday were pulling people from their homes, the cleanup has begun.
Carrie will be spending the next days In my home. The daughter's home and car were underwater. I mourn the fact that I cannot be much help to anyone during this time. I'm bound to the knee scooter waiting for healing from foot surgery. I watch the news reports and view the devastation around me while being extremely thankful my home stayed dry.
FEMA has already been activated and daily notices of the parishes awarded help has been broadcast informing flood victims of where to find help. It's going to be a touch couple of months coming up for the town of Lafayette and the state of Louisiana because the Rain Came Down.
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
It's Been A While
Well, Good morning! I can't remember the last time I posted anything or what the last thing discussed on this blog.
I'm sitting here in an almost reclined position, my left foot elevated on a pillow per doctor's orders. Today marks seven days since surgery and seven days of being grounded. I'm not allowed to stand on that foot. No weight baring at all for six weeks so I have five more weeks of scooting around.
A friend loaned me a knee scooter which is now my main means of transportation. It's much easier then using crutches and I can sail quickly across the tile floors in this house. Getting into the bathrooms, which are small, is accessible with my little purple scooter. I have the laundry room sink set up to wash my hair in the double sink there. Toothpaste and toothbrush sit beside the single large stainless steel sink. The faucet at that sink pulls out and allows me to kneel on my scooter, lean in to the sink and wash and rinse my hair. The office bathroom is used for toileting and the hall bathroom for bathing. A shower chair dominates the tub where I can scooter in to it, and sit on the edge while pulling myself across it and into the tub. The shower head detaches allowing me to control the flow of water. As soon as I get onto the shower chair, I use a white garbage bag to encase my cast. Getting the wound wet at this stage is a big no-no. Should that happen, I've been instructed to contact the surgeon's office ASAP. We don't want any chance of infection to occur and nasty stuff can grow in wet, warm and enclosed areas. A doctor's appointment has been scheduled for the 17th of this month. Hopefully the cast will be removed and a boot applied. I won't be allowed to walk but at least I can remove the boot for showers and when I'm not up and about on the scooter.
About that surgery thing. I had a retrocalcaneal reduction with Achilles tendon repair. Basically another bone spur grew out the BACK of my heel into the Achilles tendon. The tendon has to be detached, the calcaneal has to be shaved down which removes the spur and the Achilles has to be reattached. A popliteal block was used during surgery which kept the leg from the knee to the foot totally numb for 24 hours. I had to take very little pain meds!
The Achilles has a poor blood supply so keeping it elevated is critical to decrease swelling so the area can get maximum blood flow for healing and I want this surgery to be successful. I had this same surgery a few years ago on the right foot. I'm sure there is a blog on here somewhere about it.
Currently, I'm watching the Olympics and the election. Donald Trump provides a comedic view of politics and is most entertaining. I still believe, as I did at the beginning of his appearance on the political stage, this is all shtick. I find it hard to believe that this man really believes any of what he says. I've always thought he says outrageous things and tries to best himself in crudeness as a pawn of the Democratic party. I've always believed, also, that he works for the DNC. I believe that the blue collar workers have bought his act hook, line and sinker and that he is "one of them", this man that was raised so far away, above and beyond any blue collar worker; is clueless to their plight and their struggle. His lack of political correctness appeals to their base instincts..something I will never believe he actually lives but understands and preys upon that.
Today I pull myself away from my sofa; the anchor of my past week. I'll get a shower soon and get dressed. That sounds like such a menial task but to me it takes time and planning.
The click, click of my scooter as I roll around the house, maneuvering around the furniture, rolling forward, backward and sidling up to objects, announces my passage. I'm out of here to start my day.
I'm sitting here in an almost reclined position, my left foot elevated on a pillow per doctor's orders. Today marks seven days since surgery and seven days of being grounded. I'm not allowed to stand on that foot. No weight baring at all for six weeks so I have five more weeks of scooting around.
A friend loaned me a knee scooter which is now my main means of transportation. It's much easier then using crutches and I can sail quickly across the tile floors in this house. Getting into the bathrooms, which are small, is accessible with my little purple scooter. I have the laundry room sink set up to wash my hair in the double sink there. Toothpaste and toothbrush sit beside the single large stainless steel sink. The faucet at that sink pulls out and allows me to kneel on my scooter, lean in to the sink and wash and rinse my hair. The office bathroom is used for toileting and the hall bathroom for bathing. A shower chair dominates the tub where I can scooter in to it, and sit on the edge while pulling myself across it and into the tub. The shower head detaches allowing me to control the flow of water. As soon as I get onto the shower chair, I use a white garbage bag to encase my cast. Getting the wound wet at this stage is a big no-no. Should that happen, I've been instructed to contact the surgeon's office ASAP. We don't want any chance of infection to occur and nasty stuff can grow in wet, warm and enclosed areas. A doctor's appointment has been scheduled for the 17th of this month. Hopefully the cast will be removed and a boot applied. I won't be allowed to walk but at least I can remove the boot for showers and when I'm not up and about on the scooter.
About that surgery thing. I had a retrocalcaneal reduction with Achilles tendon repair. Basically another bone spur grew out the BACK of my heel into the Achilles tendon. The tendon has to be detached, the calcaneal has to be shaved down which removes the spur and the Achilles has to be reattached. A popliteal block was used during surgery which kept the leg from the knee to the foot totally numb for 24 hours. I had to take very little pain meds!
The Achilles has a poor blood supply so keeping it elevated is critical to decrease swelling so the area can get maximum blood flow for healing and I want this surgery to be successful. I had this same surgery a few years ago on the right foot. I'm sure there is a blog on here somewhere about it.
Currently, I'm watching the Olympics and the election. Donald Trump provides a comedic view of politics and is most entertaining. I still believe, as I did at the beginning of his appearance on the political stage, this is all shtick. I find it hard to believe that this man really believes any of what he says. I've always thought he says outrageous things and tries to best himself in crudeness as a pawn of the Democratic party. I've always believed, also, that he works for the DNC. I believe that the blue collar workers have bought his act hook, line and sinker and that he is "one of them", this man that was raised so far away, above and beyond any blue collar worker; is clueless to their plight and their struggle. His lack of political correctness appeals to their base instincts..something I will never believe he actually lives but understands and preys upon that.
Today I pull myself away from my sofa; the anchor of my past week. I'll get a shower soon and get dressed. That sounds like such a menial task but to me it takes time and planning.
The click, click of my scooter as I roll around the house, maneuvering around the furniture, rolling forward, backward and sidling up to objects, announces my passage. I'm out of here to start my day.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Mayhem and mobiles
I've been a bit busy, what with stray cats and stolen cars and the husband's job that is no longer, it's been a busy year, yes it has. I won't dwell on the four little kitties that were left motherless and my time spent trying to rescue them. They have never had human contact so they hiss and spit when approached. I leave them milk and tuna. I call the shelter to rescue them. I'm still trying to get them help. The husband has been unemployed for 17 months now but we prepared for this years ago so we are just humming along living our usual low key life and my car was stolen.
Two months ago, tired and weary after a hectic day, I went to bed early. It was a Friday night. I remember what day of the week it was because that's the day of the week that the little thieves come creepin'. They creep through the neighborhood around 0200 hrs, (2AM for those of you not accustomed to using military time). They creep, they sneak up to vehicles parked in driveways and carports, The neighbors camera recorded them and also exposed the time of night (or early morning as was the case). They grasp the car's door handle and hope that the tired weary woman, after having a hectic day has neglected to lock up the car.
Saturday morning, I grabbed my bright blue market basket and swing open the door to the carport, one foot out the door and a hasty goodbye to the husband who was sitting on the sofa enjoying his first cup of coffee of the day, I was on my way.
My Grand Marquis was missing. Seventeen years ago I bought this vehicle. A few times in the last couple of years the husband has tried to talk me into getting rid of this car in favor of a newer model. My problem is, a newer model of this car is not possible as production stopped in 2011. I don't want a new car.
I sucked in a deep breath, stepped back =from the door and turned to the husband "Someone has stolen the Marquis!" He looked away from the television news report, lowered coffee cup and said 'Oh, April probably came and borrowed it?"
This I knew was NOT a possibility. My daughter would never take my car without permission.
Dialing 911, I connected with the operator who was quick to send an officer.
In the chill of the morning, we stood in my driveway, while the female officer asked questions; I responded with the answers while wondering if I would ever see my car again. She asked about surveillance cameras. The neighbors! We headed to the neighbors house to rewind.
The video showed three young men but not clear enough to recognize their facial features. The time was verified.
"Would I ever see my car again?" I asked the officer. She said "Oh sure. It's probably on the north side of town somewhere."
Almost exactly 4 hrs. later I received a car from the officer to tell me my car was found and it was drive\able.
Black finger print dust decorated the door handles, the trunk and the door jams. The right front fender was crunched and the steering was askew. I knew right away that the steering was not "right". Seventeen years of driving this vehicle has imprinted on my brain the feel of this vehicle on the road.
Monday morning, the car was at the body shop. This was only the beginning of the mess that was my car. The body shop said the steering box needed replaced and I gave permission to replace it. When I went to pick my car up, the steering was worse then when I took it in. Three weeks later, after many mechanics and much haggling, the Marquis was back in my driveway but the air conditioning was no longer working. Apparently a plastic covering that went from the evaporator to the a/c fan was in pieces. Ordering a new part was impossible, as getting most parts for this car due to it's age.
My only hope was getting a part from a junk yard. I've spent the past two months calling junk yards around the country looking for this part. I've also spent months test driving new vehicles with air conditioning. I've also spent these month researching complaints about the vehicles I've been driving. The thought of paying 30,000.00 for a vehicle that has a record of bad transmissions, excessive oil consumption and
a multitude of other ailments has left me unwilling to get rid of my Marquis.
Yesterday I contacted another junk yard locally. YES! Locally, a junk dealer told me he could help. Arriving at the place of business, the part they pulled off an LTD was not going to work. Back to square one. The fellow working there assured me this was not the end of my search. He said he would go back and look again.
Late afternoon, my phone rings. A fellow on the line said he had seen my "for sale" ad on the Marquis and wanted to know if I still had it. "Yes, I'm driving it now." I replied. He then asked if I still wanted to sell it to which I said "No, I've never wanted to sell it and I told him about my air conditioner problem.
His story was short and went something like this. He had a 1999 Mercury Marquis LS. His was hit and it was totaled. It had 93,000 miles on it and the insurance company was only willing to pay him 1500.00. He was outraged that his car with low mileage was gone and he couldn't replace it for 1500.00. He asked about the mileage on mine. He said if he could buy mine, he could also buy his back from the insurance company, get the part for the a/c on mine and have a Marquis to drive!
At this point, I'm wondering what salvage yard his insurance company would be sending his Marquis!
I've promised to call him back before Monday with my decision on selling mine. Meanwhile, the fellow at the junk yard called and said he had the part I needed and it had come off a 1999 Marquis!
Tomorrow I will make another trip to that junk yard and pick up the part I need. Hopefully, I will have my Marquis a/c fixed, I won't be spending 30,000.00 on a new car and I can call the man who lost his Marquis and tell him my car is not for sale. I'm sad for that fellow as I know how he feels about losing this car. It's the last of the big luxury cars. It's dependable and has a long life expectancy.
Two months ago, tired and weary after a hectic day, I went to bed early. It was a Friday night. I remember what day of the week it was because that's the day of the week that the little thieves come creepin'. They creep through the neighborhood around 0200 hrs, (2AM for those of you not accustomed to using military time). They creep, they sneak up to vehicles parked in driveways and carports, The neighbors camera recorded them and also exposed the time of night (or early morning as was the case). They grasp the car's door handle and hope that the tired weary woman, after having a hectic day has neglected to lock up the car.
Saturday morning, I grabbed my bright blue market basket and swing open the door to the carport, one foot out the door and a hasty goodbye to the husband who was sitting on the sofa enjoying his first cup of coffee of the day, I was on my way.
My Grand Marquis was missing. Seventeen years ago I bought this vehicle. A few times in the last couple of years the husband has tried to talk me into getting rid of this car in favor of a newer model. My problem is, a newer model of this car is not possible as production stopped in 2011. I don't want a new car.
I sucked in a deep breath, stepped back =from the door and turned to the husband "Someone has stolen the Marquis!" He looked away from the television news report, lowered coffee cup and said 'Oh, April probably came and borrowed it?"
This I knew was NOT a possibility. My daughter would never take my car without permission.
Dialing 911, I connected with the operator who was quick to send an officer.
In the chill of the morning, we stood in my driveway, while the female officer asked questions; I responded with the answers while wondering if I would ever see my car again. She asked about surveillance cameras. The neighbors! We headed to the neighbors house to rewind.
The video showed three young men but not clear enough to recognize their facial features. The time was verified.
"Would I ever see my car again?" I asked the officer. She said "Oh sure. It's probably on the north side of town somewhere."
Almost exactly 4 hrs. later I received a car from the officer to tell me my car was found and it was drive\able.
Black finger print dust decorated the door handles, the trunk and the door jams. The right front fender was crunched and the steering was askew. I knew right away that the steering was not "right". Seventeen years of driving this vehicle has imprinted on my brain the feel of this vehicle on the road.
Monday morning, the car was at the body shop. This was only the beginning of the mess that was my car. The body shop said the steering box needed replaced and I gave permission to replace it. When I went to pick my car up, the steering was worse then when I took it in. Three weeks later, after many mechanics and much haggling, the Marquis was back in my driveway but the air conditioning was no longer working. Apparently a plastic covering that went from the evaporator to the a/c fan was in pieces. Ordering a new part was impossible, as getting most parts for this car due to it's age.
My only hope was getting a part from a junk yard. I've spent the past two months calling junk yards around the country looking for this part. I've also spent months test driving new vehicles with air conditioning. I've also spent these month researching complaints about the vehicles I've been driving. The thought of paying 30,000.00 for a vehicle that has a record of bad transmissions, excessive oil consumption and
a multitude of other ailments has left me unwilling to get rid of my Marquis.
Yesterday I contacted another junk yard locally. YES! Locally, a junk dealer told me he could help. Arriving at the place of business, the part they pulled off an LTD was not going to work. Back to square one. The fellow working there assured me this was not the end of my search. He said he would go back and look again.
Late afternoon, my phone rings. A fellow on the line said he had seen my "for sale" ad on the Marquis and wanted to know if I still had it. "Yes, I'm driving it now." I replied. He then asked if I still wanted to sell it to which I said "No, I've never wanted to sell it and I told him about my air conditioner problem.
His story was short and went something like this. He had a 1999 Mercury Marquis LS. His was hit and it was totaled. It had 93,000 miles on it and the insurance company was only willing to pay him 1500.00. He was outraged that his car with low mileage was gone and he couldn't replace it for 1500.00. He asked about the mileage on mine. He said if he could buy mine, he could also buy his back from the insurance company, get the part for the a/c on mine and have a Marquis to drive!
At this point, I'm wondering what salvage yard his insurance company would be sending his Marquis!
I've promised to call him back before Monday with my decision on selling mine. Meanwhile, the fellow at the junk yard called and said he had the part I needed and it had come off a 1999 Marquis!
Tomorrow I will make another trip to that junk yard and pick up the part I need. Hopefully, I will have my Marquis a/c fixed, I won't be spending 30,000.00 on a new car and I can call the man who lost his Marquis and tell him my car is not for sale. I'm sad for that fellow as I know how he feels about losing this car. It's the last of the big luxury cars. It's dependable and has a long life expectancy.
It has been a while huh?
I've been a bit busy, what with stray cats and stolen cars and the husband's job that is no longer, it's been a busy year, yes it has. I won't dwell on the four little kitties that were left motherless and my time spent trying to rescue them. They have never had human contact so they hiss and spit when approached. I leave them milk and tuna. I call the shelter to rescue them. I'm still trying to get them help. The husband has been unemployed for 17 months now but we prepared for this years ago so we are just humming along living our usual low key life and my car was stolen.
Two months ago, tired and weary after a hectic day, I went to bed early. It was a Friday night. I remember what day of the week it was because that's the day of the week that the little thieves come creepin'. They creep through the neighborhood around 0200 hrs, (2AM for those of you not accustomed to using military time). They creep, they sneak up to vehicles parked in driveways and carports, The neighbors camera recorded them and also exposed the time of night (or early morning as was the case). They grasp the car's door handle and hope that the tired weary woman, after having a hectic day has neglected to lock up the car.
Saturday morning, I grabbed my bright blue market basket and swing open the door to the carport, one foot out the door and a hasty goodbye to the husband who was sitting on the sofa enjoying his first cup of coffee of the day, I was on my way.
My Grand Marquis was missing. Seventeen years ago I bought this vehicle. A few times in the last couple of years the husband has tried to talk me into getting rid of this car in favor of a newer model. My problem is, a newer model of this car is not possible as production stopped in 2011. I don't want a new car.
I sucked in a deep breath, stepped back =from the door and turned to the husband "Someone has stolen the Marquis!" He looked away from the television news report, lowered coffee cup and said 'Oh, April probably came and borrowed it?"
This I knew was NOT a possibility. My daughter would never take my car without permission.
Dialing 911, I connected with the operator who was quick to send an officer.
In the chill of the morning, we stood in my driveway, while the female officer asked questions; I responded with the answers while wondering if I would ever see my car again. She asked about surveillance cameras. The neighbors! We headed to the neighbors house to rewind.
The video showed three young men but not clear enough to recognize their facial features. The time was verified.
"Would I ever see my car again?" I asked the officer. She said "Oh sure. It's probably on the north side of town somewhere."
Almost exactly 4 hrs. later I received a car from the officer to tell me my car was found and it was drive\able.
Black finger print dust decorated the door handles, the trunk and the door jams. The right front fender was crunched and the steering was askew. I knew right away that the steering was not "right". Seventeen years of driving this vehicle has imprinted on my brain the feel of this vehicle on the road.
Monday morning, the car was at the body shop. This was only the beginning of the mess that was my car. The body shop said the steering box needed replaced and I gave permission to replace it. When I went to pick my car up, the steering was worse then when I took it in. Three weeks later, after many mechanics and much haggling, the Marquis was back in my driveway but the air conditioning was no longer working. Apparently a plastic covering that went from the evaporator to the a/c fan was in pieces. Ordering a new part was impossible, as getting most parts for this car due to it's age.
My only hope was getting a part from a junk yard. I've spent the past two months calling junk yards around the country looking for this part. I've also spent months test driving new vehicles with air conditioning. I've also spent these month researching complaints about the vehicles I've been driving. The thought of paying 30,000.00 for a vehicle that has a record of bad transmissions, excessive oil consumption and
a multitude of other ailments has left me unwilling to get rid of my Marquis.
Yesterday I contacted another junk yard locally. YES! Locally, a junk dealer told me he could help. Arriving at the place of business, the part they pulled off an LTD was not going to work. Back to square one. The fellow working there assured me this was not the end of my search. He said he would go back and look again.
Late afternoon, my phone rings. A fellow on the line said he had seen my "for sale" ad on the Marquis and wanted to know if I still had it. "Yes, I'm driving it now." I replied. He then asked if I still wanted to sell it to which I said "No, I've never wanted to sell it and I told him about my air conditioner problem.
His story was short and went something like this. He had a 1999 Mercury Marquis LS. His was hit and it was totaled. It had 93,000 miles on it and the insurance company was only willing to pay him 1500.00. He was outraged that his car with low mileage was gone and he couldn't replace it for 1500.00. He asked about the mileage on mine. He said if he could buy mine, he could also buy his back from the insurance company, get the part for the a/c on mine and have a Marquis to drive!
At this point, I'm wondering what salvage yard his insurance company would be sending his Marquis!
I've promised to call him back before Monday with my decision on selling mine. Meanwhile, the fellow at the junk yard called and said he had the part I needed and it had come off a 1999 Marquis!
Tomorrow I will make another trip to that junk yard and pick up the part I need. Hopefully, I will have my Marquis a/c fixed, I won't be spending 30,000.00 on a new car and I can call the man who lost his Marquis and tell him my car is not for sale. I'm sad for that fellow as I know how he feels about losing this car. It's the last of the big luxury cars. It's dependable and has a long life expectancy.
Two months ago, tired and weary after a hectic day, I went to bed early. It was a Friday night. I remember what day of the week it was because that's the day of the week that the little thieves come creepin'. They creep through the neighborhood around 0200 hrs, (2AM for those of you not accustomed to using military time). They creep, they sneak up to vehicles parked in driveways and carports, The neighbors camera recorded them and also exposed the time of night (or early morning as was the case). They grasp the car's door handle and hope that the tired weary woman, after having a hectic day has neglected to lock up the car.
Saturday morning, I grabbed my bright blue market basket and swing open the door to the carport, one foot out the door and a hasty goodbye to the husband who was sitting on the sofa enjoying his first cup of coffee of the day, I was on my way.
My Grand Marquis was missing. Seventeen years ago I bought this vehicle. A few times in the last couple of years the husband has tried to talk me into getting rid of this car in favor of a newer model. My problem is, a newer model of this car is not possible as production stopped in 2011. I don't want a new car.
I sucked in a deep breath, stepped back =from the door and turned to the husband "Someone has stolen the Marquis!" He looked away from the television news report, lowered coffee cup and said 'Oh, April probably came and borrowed it?"
This I knew was NOT a possibility. My daughter would never take my car without permission.
Dialing 911, I connected with the operator who was quick to send an officer.
In the chill of the morning, we stood in my driveway, while the female officer asked questions; I responded with the answers while wondering if I would ever see my car again. She asked about surveillance cameras. The neighbors! We headed to the neighbors house to rewind.
The video showed three young men but not clear enough to recognize their facial features. The time was verified.
"Would I ever see my car again?" I asked the officer. She said "Oh sure. It's probably on the north side of town somewhere."
Almost exactly 4 hrs. later I received a car from the officer to tell me my car was found and it was drive\able.
Black finger print dust decorated the door handles, the trunk and the door jams. The right front fender was crunched and the steering was askew. I knew right away that the steering was not "right". Seventeen years of driving this vehicle has imprinted on my brain the feel of this vehicle on the road.
Monday morning, the car was at the body shop. This was only the beginning of the mess that was my car. The body shop said the steering box needed replaced and I gave permission to replace it. When I went to pick my car up, the steering was worse then when I took it in. Three weeks later, after many mechanics and much haggling, the Marquis was back in my driveway but the air conditioning was no longer working. Apparently a plastic covering that went from the evaporator to the a/c fan was in pieces. Ordering a new part was impossible, as getting most parts for this car due to it's age.
My only hope was getting a part from a junk yard. I've spent the past two months calling junk yards around the country looking for this part. I've also spent months test driving new vehicles with air conditioning. I've also spent these month researching complaints about the vehicles I've been driving. The thought of paying 30,000.00 for a vehicle that has a record of bad transmissions, excessive oil consumption and
a multitude of other ailments has left me unwilling to get rid of my Marquis.
Yesterday I contacted another junk yard locally. YES! Locally, a junk dealer told me he could help. Arriving at the place of business, the part they pulled off an LTD was not going to work. Back to square one. The fellow working there assured me this was not the end of my search. He said he would go back and look again.
Late afternoon, my phone rings. A fellow on the line said he had seen my "for sale" ad on the Marquis and wanted to know if I still had it. "Yes, I'm driving it now." I replied. He then asked if I still wanted to sell it to which I said "No, I've never wanted to sell it and I told him about my air conditioner problem.
His story was short and went something like this. He had a 1999 Mercury Marquis LS. His was hit and it was totaled. It had 93,000 miles on it and the insurance company was only willing to pay him 1500.00. He was outraged that his car with low mileage was gone and he couldn't replace it for 1500.00. He asked about the mileage on mine. He said if he could buy mine, he could also buy his back from the insurance company, get the part for the a/c on mine and have a Marquis to drive!
At this point, I'm wondering what salvage yard his insurance company would be sending his Marquis!
I've promised to call him back before Monday with my decision on selling mine. Meanwhile, the fellow at the junk yard called and said he had the part I needed and it had come off a 1999 Marquis!
Tomorrow I will make another trip to that junk yard and pick up the part I need. Hopefully, I will have my Marquis a/c fixed, I won't be spending 30,000.00 on a new car and I can call the man who lost his Marquis and tell him my car is not for sale. I'm sad for that fellow as I know how he feels about losing this car. It's the last of the big luxury cars. It's dependable and has a long life expectancy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)