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Welcome and thank you for joining me in lightening up.
Please enjoy my collection of stories which serve only to make you smile or laugh - you choose.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Wining While Stranded

Well... Sunday was a great day in the Fingerlakes wine country - more specifically, Seneca Lake, NY.  But... any day in wine country is great!  We stopped at several wineries and even a distillery and just had to do a tasting at each one.  At what would prove to be our last stop of the day we finished our chocolate and wine tasting - a glorious pairing of 4 chocolates and 5 wines - and made our purchase.

As we prepared to leave we were given a very strong message from God but we were unclear as to the specific sentiment.  He either said "Your tastings have exceeded the approved limit for driving" or, "It's a beautiful day and you need to sit and appreciate the beauty of my creation, including the wine produced by my faithful servants at this winery."  I'm pretty sure it was the latter of the two.  Either way, he spoke to us through a vehicle which refused to start.

After several unsuccessful attempts from the winery owner to jump start the battery and the assistance from a bus driver who brought in a sizable party to the winery, it was clear God wanted us to sit and relax.  Phone calls were placed and a tow truck driver was reached and we were given the gift of time.

If you are going to be stranded and wait for a tow truck there is no better place than a winery with some fantastic wines, bread and sausage to enjoy on a deck with comfortable chairs, nestled into tall trees bursting with fall colors and Seneca Lake in the background.  Car trouble is a blessing in this situation!

We enjoyed a bottle of Billsboro winery's Rose' and a wonderful baguette.  We also spread the delicious Liverwurst that Billsboro offers on the bread.  I have never been a fan of Liverwurst and I don't typically opt for a Rose' wine, but Billsboro changed my mind when it was offered as a wonderful pairing during our tasting.

We polished off the bottle and half the baguette and Liverwurst before Richard, the tow truck driver arrived.  Richard is quite a character!  He got the car started but the battery did not hold its charge so he loaded it onto his flatbed tow truck - in mere minutes.  When we showed how impressed we were at his ability he commented, "Thanks.  Not bad for my first day on the job!"  Then he giggled and shared that the joke never got old to him.  "I tell everyone that even though I've been doing this for 41 years."

On the 40 minute drive back to Watkins Glen Richard gave us a lot of history on the area.  We learned things we never did on any official tour.  He even shared with us a few of the theories of how the Finger Lakes were created.  "Some say it was glaciers but if you believe the Creationists theory the lakes are actually the handprint of God.  He reached right down and placed his hand on this part of the country and the lakes were formed."

That theory makes me wonder why the lakes are not crawling with Forensic investigators dusting for God's fingerprints and DNA.

Anyway, Richard unloaded the car at the Jeep service center and then dropped us off at our hotel 2 blocks away.  $208.00 was the total cost of our official tour with Richard - pretty steep when compared to other tours but this one offered far more practical information.  Among other things, we learned all about the former military base on the East side of Seneca Lake, how to hide from the police to get out of a speeding ticket,  and our favorite piece of enlightenment - how to use a flashlight as headlights when trying to stay off the radar of local police.

If you're ever in the Finger Lakes and looking for a great winery to visit you can't go wrong with Billsboro.  The wines are great, the setting is gorgeous and the owners, Vinny and Kim, know how to treat people.  Thank you to both of them and the Billsboro staff for making our time of distress so pleasant.  I believe they could add a new pairing to their list for such an occasion and encourage guests to relax on their deck or patio.  They could call it the "Battery Charger Pairing" and, stranded or not, guests will certainly benefit.

Hopefully you won't meet Richard under the same circumstances we did but, just in case, take a few cans of Mountain Dew with you.  If he ends up towing you anywhere he may cut you a break on the price of his "tour" if you offer him his favorite beverage.  Wine was of no interest to him and don't even think of offering him cheese.  But the caffeine-rich soda might buy you a portion of your tour or, at least get him to provide some practical information which might be extremely useful the next time you find yourself trying to beat out a speeding ticket!

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Why I Don't Play the Piano

I have a great little dog who makes me smile and laugh all the time.  He is an adorable little thing - all white because of the Bichon Frise in his mix - he is also part Cocker Spaniel, and his name is Opus.

Opus does not like to be alone.  He actually doesn't really like it if all the members of the household are not present at the same time and will sit and wait in the window that overlooks the driveway until all his people are with him again.

Opus also loves it when people visit, especially children.  He can hardly contain himself.  Fortunately, he does not bite so there is no concern in that regard, but, at 2 years old, he doesn't yet abide by the "Stay Down" rule and just wants to jump in the lap of everyone who sits down.  He is hyper and, despite his cuteness, he is very annoying when he feels he needs to get to one of our guests.  And he's fast!  He can also jump from the floor to the chest of a seated person in the blink of an eye - so he MUST be relentlessly policed if he remains in the group setting.

I have actually put him in the car before (only when weather allowed it) when guests were visiting with a small baby, just for the ability to have a nice visit without supervising his behavior or listening to the whining complaints he puts out when confined to another area of the house.

Dogs are very unlike cats in this regard.  Where a dog wants to be social a cat will typically be stand-offish with guests, and let the guests know they are of no interest by a telltale glance of disapproval.  This does not apply to every single cat, I know.  In fact, I know this too well!

During my college years I lived with my sister, Debbie, in a 2-bedroom apartment.  We had always had pets as kids and decided, mutually, to bring a cat into our household.  Within seconds of the suggestion we were headed to the pet store where we found 2 orange-haired kittens to choose from.  We asked to get both out of their cage so we could decide.

I was handed a whiny little furball that shook uncontrollably as he cried.  He curled up in my neck but his crying did not subside.  Debbie was given a kitten with the polar opposite personality.  She tried to cuddle him but he saw the macaw bird perched on a stand a few feet behind her and he was certain he could take it down.  With the prowess of a lion he scaled my sister's arm and reached her shoulder in an instant.  As she tried desperately to keep him from leaping from her shoulder to the bird's perch he swiped with his tiny little paw, hoping to land a shot on the colorful bird.  He wasn't even close but his determination was evident.

We chose the hunter over the whiner and they put the tiny little thing in a big box for us to transport him home.  We were given strict instructions to not alter his diet so we splurged for the expensive food the store sold.  Far be it from us to cause a disruption in his eating habits and set ourselves up for what the salesperson ensured us would be cute little vomiting kitty with terrible diarrhea to boot.

In the car the cat cried like he was dying.  I have never heard a kitten who was less than 1 pound in mass make noises like this.  When I looked in the air hole and talked sweetly to try to console him a tiny orange paw with fully extended claws shot out through the hole and latched on to the outside of the box. His talons sunk into the cardboard and he could not retract them.  He was suspended inside the box.

Of course I had to open the box and rescue him.  Big Mistake!  I had unleashed the tiny little fury and just barely caught him before he leaped at my face.  This kitten packed a wollop!

When we arrived home we decided it best to put him back into the box before walking through the parking lot to our apartment.  We didn't want to lose him after all.  Somehow, he had already grabbed us each by the heart.  Debbie held the box open while I peeled him from my shirt and lowered him in.  All four paws shot out and he successfully prevented being deposited into the box.

We tried again.  This time, I gently held him under the belly with my left hand and used my right to keep his front paws contained.  Debbie did the same with his back ones and held the box open too.

Denied!

The next two attempts failed too and the little growl warned us that he was done with our game.

Debbie put him inside her jacket and held him close to her while we made the walk to the apartment.  I carried all the other stuff, willingly.  I was relieved to not be at risk of having my skin shredded if the kitten got spooked.

Once inside the house the first thing we did was cut his claws, a regular practice I can assure you.  He was surprisingly good for this process but we still worked together on it, one to hold him still and gently squeeze his little paw to expose the razor sharp claws (Debbie), the other to do the deed (me).  Then, the little stinker took off to explore his new surroundings.  Debbie was not injured in the process so we proceeded to set up his food station and kitty litter box.

When our little terror heard the litter hit the pan he came running and promptly christened the fresh clay.  That would be the beginning of a ritual for him and he responded to the sound the same way each time from then on.

From there he joined us in the living room.  Debbie was seated on the couch and she called him up to her.  He clawed his way up and she picked him up to give him a little nuzzle.  It lasted all of 2 seconds before he smelled the contents of the bowl of cream of broccoli soup she had eaten for dinner.  She left the bowl on top of the backrest of the couch when she was talking on the phone and had forgotten to put in the sink afterward.

Our attempts at keeping his diet intact failed as he immediately lapped up all the remaining bits of soup and growled when Debbie reached to take the bowl from him.  This cat had serious attitude.  We named him Murphy.

This tiny little devil maintained that attitude throughout his life.  He had moments of sweetness with us but he was mostly ornery, especially with guests.  Except for the friend whose perfume he really liked, he was content to show his disapproval with anyone who visited.  He even bit one friend on top of her head - just because he woke up and saw it close to him.

On one particular occasion I was caught completely off guard.  Debbie's electric piano was in need of repair and the man to handle the job came to the apartment.  He laid the machine on the floor, upside down, and proceeded to do the work.

Murphy was on the couch next to me, where I sat reading a book for one of my classes.  He took a good, solid nap and then jumped down to get a refreshment.  I watched him as he made his way behind the gentleman who was kneeling on the floor with the piano apart in front of him.  He was a pleasant and professional man.  He was dressed very simply, a pair of gray pants and a white, button-down shirt.  He was minding his own business, working at his task.

Something about him gave Murphy reason to stop behind him.  I saw the look in his eyes and recognized he was about to make himself known to this man, in a way that did not match his professionalism.

"Don't even think about it Murph," I warned as I put the book down and proceeded to get up from the couch.

He didn't listen ... he never listened.  In the blink of an eye I watched in horror as Murphy sprung from the floor and onto the back of the nice man fixing Debbie's piano.  His claws sunk in on the man's shoulders and he held on with great vigor as the man desperately tried to reach him over his shoulder.

It was a sight that has been burned into my mind - kind little bald man in a white shirt, flailing back and forth trying to grab hold of the by then 13 pound cat attached to his back with feline grappling hooks.  I swear Murphy was smiling and just enjoying the ride he was taking on the back of this man.

When I peeled Murphy off of him I was mortified at the sight of the ten dots of blood in the white shirt.  I apologized profusely and the gracious man assured me he was fine.  He finished his work quickly and left without another word of the incident.

I can't be 100% sure but I am fairly confident I saw my cat laugh as the door closed.

I am thankful Opus is not a loose cannon like Murphy obviously was.  But... just in case... I have decided it best to not play the piano.  If I played the instrument I may become tempted to get an electric version.  At some point it would probably need service and I can't take the risk of ever seeing that poor man again.

And that's why the world is deprived of my piano prowess.  Sorry.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Leave of Abscess

So… it’s been a while since my last post but a lot has happened in the past few weeks.  My ability to find sillyness in the serious was put to the test in some interesting ways and I am happy to report that, for the most part, I was successful.  I had a few moments where I had to look in unexpected places but I am fortunate to have people in my life that willingly helped me in my time of need.

It all started a few weeks ago…

I injured my butt!  It’s kind of pitiful actually… but it really happened.  I’ll spare you all the details and just give it in a nutshell:

I sat down on a small brick wall – narrow (only one brick wide) and low – but I was in a crowded festival and desperate for a place to sit and wait for a while for a friend.  The wall was lower than expected and I landed harder than anyone my size ever should.

Over the next few days I endured soreness that turned into pain from what I believed was simply a bruised “Sitz Bone” – not the medical term for it but I think it’s actually referred to as such since it’s the best way to describe it.  I believe in “The Head Bone’s Connected to the Neck Bone” song this particular verse would go like this:

            “The Tail Bone’s connected to the Hip Bone;
            the Hip Bone’s connected to the Hiney Bone;
            the Hiney Bone’s the one that you sitz upon…”

…And it hurts like a bad word when you injure it!  Apparently I set off a chain reaction when I sat on that wall.  Fluid began to collect at the injury site but had no place to go.  After a few days it swelled up and caused pain I won’t soon forget.

A few days later – that’s right, a few days later… I didn’t get to the doctor right away since my research on the bruised bone informed me that what I was experiencing was not unusual – the situation had changed drastically but not in my favor.  I thought I could endure the worst of it and surely the issue would clear up on its own.  Don’t judge me for wanting to keep my “Sitz Upon” to myself.

A quick visit to the Dr. turned into a further trip down the road to the Emergency Room. 
Diagnosis:  The injury turned into an Abscess with a Severe Infection – my surgeon said it was “the biggest he had ever seen.”  He was not referring to my “Sitz Upon” but to the abscess and infection accompanying it.
Treatment:  Immediate surgery to drain abscess and hefty doses of some powerful Antibiotics, administered through IV

The third day after surgery I was cleared for release from the hospital by the surgical team – but I did not get to go home.  Just after achieving the necessary requirement for recovering in my own environment I was notified that additional judges had weighed in and my sentence had been extended.  A combination of circumstances caused injury to my kidneys and I was in “Acute Renal Failure”:
-Consuming ibuprofen prior to arriving at the ER in a self-prescribed dose exceeding the label on the bottle
-Receiving an IV dose of a strong painkiller in the ER with similar properties
-Having a CAT Scan with IV contrast material

I couldn’t believe it.  I was very ready to go home and certainly didn’t feel like I was suffering from any additional physical problems.  I have since learned my condition was pretty serious and they had to make sure I was recovering appropriately before feeling it was safe to send me home.

I spent a total of one week in the hospital.  In that one week I had some new and undesirable experiences:
- Emergency Surgery
- Fever over 1030 (Right after surgery my vital signs were taken every hour and I recall hearing 103.9 at one point. I know many people have personally experienced or nursed their children through much higher than this but my normal temperature is in the 96.6 – 97.2 range so I got to cradle what seemed like an enormous ice pack for a while – that was a wonderful gift from the nurse caring for me and it achieved the desired results of cooling me down)
- Morphine!
- Kidney failure
- The roller coaster ride of emotions that accompanies a hospital visit
- No less than 30 different people have seen my “Sitz Upon” in its full splendor – more if my suspicions are correct and photos were taken for “Posteriority”

So… in all of this my typical approach was challenged and there were opportunities for my weapon of choice – laughter – to be found lacking in its power.  Fortunately, when I had little strength to wield my sword of silliness I had willing friends and family members to raise it for me.

Here are three of my favorite (though there were many more) moments in the hospital in which I giggled like a schoolgirl and my stay felt like an adventure in silliness:

1.  My nurse wanted to get me out of bed and walking around the hallways.  She offered me a few additions to the wardrobe so graciously supplied by the hospital. 

“Here is a pair of disposable underpants and a pad to put inside them to absorb the drainage from your wound (which there was a considerable amount of).” 

I held up the underpants.  My friend Weezer and I laughed at the qualifications of the apparel. Similar material to pantyhose they were very stretchy width-wise but from waistband to the hem of the leg they spanned four inches.  My “Sitz Upon”, from “waistband to the hem” is an impressive eleven inches, grading on a significant curve.  Math Major or not anyone can figure out these measurements are not equivalent. 

I opened up the sanitary pad to insert into the underpants and, no kidding; the thing was designed to line beaches in preparation for hurricane weather.  Weezer and I giggled again.  We contemplated staying in my room and conducting absorbency experiments with the apparatus but decided to obey my nurse’s instructions.  Oh the hilarity.

Getting up and walking around was the anticipated result but the actual experience was building new muscles.  I used several I was not aware I had as I slowly did a figure-8 lap of the 3rd floor ward and successfully held the sandbag and tiny-hiney panties in place.

When we returned to my room Weezer was gracious in helping me steady myself as I shed the garment or, rather, finished what gravity had already begun.  When I struggled to get my foot out of the underpants, which was appropriately suited with the gripper socks the hospital provides (they are made with rubber, skid-proof grippers on both sides so you don’t have to worry about getting them on correctly), Weezer looked down to assess the problem. 

We both giggled uncontrollably at the sight!  My grippers were stuck to the pantyhose; half the pad was still glued to the underpants and the other half had separated from the material but stuck fast to the vinyl flooring – the adhesive in the pad can only be described as “industrial strength”.  The result – I was shackled at the ankles by my tiny-hiney panties.

My nurse at the time must have thought we were ridiculous but she did not scold us.

2.  The day I was absolutely certain I would be allowed to go home I was ecstatic.  My joy was dashed when I was told it would be at least another day.  I shed a few tears of disappointment and one of my doctors came in shortly afterward.  “We just want to keep you here a bit longer because of the amount of protein in your urine.  Your kidneys are not functioning at a high enough level yet.  I’m sorry… I know you were hoping to go home today.”

I sat there with my frustration.  Weezer was right there with me – as she was through the entire ordeal – and she knew she needed to rally.  After a few minutes of quietness she spoke up.  “Hmmm… protein in your urine, huh?  I guess that’s not a good thing and it’s best for you to stay and rest a bit longer.”

“Yeah… I guess.  But it really sucks.  I feel fine,” I whined.  “Protein in my urine… pssshaw.  Where did that come from?”

“Maybe you have a chicken hanging out in your potty!”

The mental picture put me over the edge and the next tears were from my fit of laughter.  At various quiet moments throughout the day Weezer would “cluck” and I’d lose it again every time.

3.  I shared a room with a 90-year old lady who had been in the hospital for over three weeks already.  Complications from one surgery lead her to another and I was her roommate in the days leading up to and immediately after a lengthy surgery to remove and repair a portion of her bowel.  She is an adorable lady with the cutest voice I have ever heard.

The curtain separating us offered visual privacy but certainly was not sound proof, so I was aware of everything she was experiencing.  Two days after her surgery one of her doctors came to see her and asked a standard round of questions pertaining to her recovery.  One, in particular, evoked a response from the prim and proper little lady on the other side of the curtain that I will never forget.

“Your incision looks good; I see your catheter has been removed and you are using the commode.  I know you haven’t had a bowel movement yet but have you begun to pass gas?” he asked in his authoritative voice.

“Oh no… I wouldn’t dare,” the cutie-pie responded with a shy little giggle.

I laughed out loud.

So… my last few weeks have given me lots to think about.  I am thankful for the care I received, the recovery I am experiencing and for all of the wonderful people in my life who have offered concerned prayers on my behalf.  I have also learned A LOT from this experience.

In all of this I am most thankful for my faith.  I was never scared or felt alone in any of it.  I know – without a doubt – that I was in the hands of the Greatest Physician.  How wonderful it was to feel His presence.  I know He carried me through safely.

I am also thankful that God did not decide that my time on this earth would come to an end because of this situation.  As much as I enjoy a good laugh I would still not desire my obituary to read, “She died of a busted ‘Sitz Upon’.”