Scars #3 continued...

Oh my goodness, I can't believe that time has flown by and I've not finished my "scars" saga.
Well today, I'm finishing it up....

My last, and well my most thrilling scar story happened in 2003. The day was a Sunday. I remember because we had a dear friend stop by for Sunday dinner.. Pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, etc. I started feeling kind of queasy after we ate, but we had company and we just enjoyed visiting. I continued to feel worse as the evening progressed and finally went to bed hoping whatever it was would pass.

During the night I woke up knowing that I had to sprint to the back room and the porta-potty. We don't have indoor plumbing at our place in KY. but I do have a porta-potty in the back room that I use at night and in inclement or cold weather. The path to the outhouse is long in the dark. (LOL) I made it to the back room and emptied my stomach. Now not to be gross, but I felt better and thought that maybe something hadn't set well. I grabbed a pan, just in case, and went back to bed.

I have gotten woozy in the past, and have always felt like I was going to pass out when being sick like that. So the feeling didn't surprise me. I got a drink and headed back to bed. It wasn't long before I was again dashing for the back room.. this time I had a visit from Montezuma's revenge too.. so I sat..pan in hand on my porta-potty, wishing I hadn't eaten anything that day.

all of a sudden I felt like passing out. and then everything went black. I felt pain and came to when I hit the floor.. I felt pain in my shoulder and leg. I know it's weird but I couldn't see anything, and for some reason thought I had fallen in a hole. When I came to a bit more I screamed for husband and tried to stand up. I couldn't. There was to much pain in my leg.

I'm a big girl and hubby could not lift me up. I was kind of wedged in between the dog kennel, cat box on top and the porta-potty. ( I can't begin to tell you how thankful I was that I had not fallen face first into the cat poo) Poor husband drug me to the stove where there was more room and got me up enough to finally get on my feet. He got me to the bed. I figured I had sprained my ankle again. I couldn't walk without intense pain. I had hit the side of the dog box. the door had been open and had ripped my favorite Billy Cyrus Concert T-shirt. I don't mind telling you I was miffed. I loved that concert. Then I felt the blood running. The open door had also cut down my arm and shoulder. Then I was sick again. Hubby ran back and got my pan and brought it to me.. We then decided with both ends running, he better move my potty into the front room with me, by the bed . He checked out my ankle and it was puffed up and red, so my original diagnosis of a severe sprain was confirmed. I thought.

It was a rough night up and down. I was so afraid I would pass out again that I made hubby get up and hold me while I laid on the bed. It was not pretty. None of it. The next morning brought no relief. Sweet husband went to the store and got me some 7- up and crackers. I was so sick, I couldn't even go to the Dr. We decided as soon as I could keep from being sick in the truck for the entire 20 minute ride, I'd see the Dr. and have him check out my ankle. By this time it was puffy and turning colors. my toes too. I was so sick I didn't really care. Getting on my feet was horrible. but once up I could hobble with the best of them. by Tuesday I decided I could probably make the trip to the Dr. so I called and got an appt. I found another bowl to take with me, just in case. I was hoping after the x-ray, I could get something to stop the spewing.

Dear Dr. GR. looked at my ankle. He made a face. He moved it around and moved my leg too. He pronounced that he was pretty sure I had broken my leg. I was shocked. No way. I could walk on it. He sent me to the hospital for x-rays and told me if it was bad they could not set it and they would have to set up an appt. with an orthopedic surgeon. I poo pooed the diagnosis, told hubby they were just being over cautious and we headed to the hospital for the x-ray.

The cool thing about tiny country hospitals is one, they are never busy, so you get right in, two, they have a cool gift shop, and three there is always some kind soul that will tell you all about their aunt Selma who broke her leg and never had it set.

The x-rays were taken and they brought them into the exam room to show me. I had broken my leg. the small bone a couple of inches above the ankle. They couldn't do anything with it as it was a spiral break. They were curious as to how I could have had such a break. They looked at hubby with a bit of disdain as they asked how I could have broken it .. how did it happen hun???
I told them. I fell off the porta-potty. Ya right.. how ridiculous does that sound? They called Dr. GR. and he had his nurse set up an appt. for a week later. I thought that was odd to have to wait for a week, but it wasn't to bad, so I guessed I could take it. I was wrong.

We made a trip to the Sure-way and husband stocked up on Tv dinners. I threw up all the way home and got in bed. I had been given some pain meds so I took them and fell asleep. I woke about 3am in horrible pain. My foot was black and I was sick again. I sat up until I knew my girlfriend was up with her kids getting them ready for school. I called and told her I had to go to a big hospital and go through the ER. No way could I wait a week. So she got the kids on the bus and got to the house. Bucket in hand off we went to the closest bigger hospital. There was a specialist on call. He came down and made sure the bone hadn't moved. We discussed putting in a plate and screws. He suggested we could cast it and wait a few weeks and see how it healed. I agreed. I got my crutches another appt. and headed home. Pan in hand puking my guts out all the way home. Of course I had repeat my "story" of the break to every nurse and physician, x-ray tech etc. No one believed that I fell off a toilet and broke my leg. Especially like that. We finally decided that I must have hooked my foot up underneath the cement blocks that we have the potty sitting on. and it twisted my leg as I fell forward when I passed out.

When I got home poor hubby was on his hands and knees puking his guts out.. we were a pitiful sight. For the Next week my poor girlfriend would come after the kids headed to school, clean the pans, change the beds, fix us something to eat for the rest of the day. set out drinks, crackers, soup, etc. if we felt we could hold them down. she would hall our soiled Jammies and sheets home, wash them and return the next day. That is a true friend. (by the way she spent the next 14 weeks taking me to every appt. cleaning our place, doing our laundry, and fixing our supper most nights)

I could go on and tell you about hubby signing my cast, the countless times I had to "tell the story".. the many ways I tried to think of a cool way I broke my leg. cause no one believes you can break your leg falling off a toilet. I mean no one.. would you believe it??? No.. you wouldn't.

after 8 weeks my leg was not healing, so surgery was scheduled and Dr. G. put in a metal plate and screws. I thought it was sweet of my girlfriends husband and mine to offer to preform the surgery themselves at home with hubby's cordless drill, galvanized drywall screws, some liquid nail, lock-tight, and with a ball peen hammer for anesthesia. I declined and said that I would take the dull old medical way of it. Husband did ask Dr. G the morning of surgery if he could inset the screws so they wouldn't work out. Dr. said he always inset them. and thought the lock-tight would work too. LOL He also pumped my break full of bone grafting putty stuff. I can just see him in the operating room with that big caulk gun filling my leg full of putty.. sheesh..

I had to do another 7 weeks in a cast, but it all healed perfectly. Thanks to Dr. G and God.
I have a scar. Dr. G said that I would be able to wear an ankle bracelet if I chose on the beach in my bikini.. what is this with Dr.'s and this strange bikini fetish??

anyway.. I have a scar.. you can feel my plate, kind of.. the screws never backed out.. and I walk just as always.. that Scar was a long time healing. It took weeks, 14 weeks on a walker. I can't manage crutches. I'm not coordinated enough. so I hopped. You would be amazed at what you can do hopping. Hubby got me an office chair on wheels so he could wheel me up to the stove, and the sink. yes, he did.. I didn't dare cook much. I could only reach the front burners. I fixed it, put it in the pan and he cooked it. mostly chili, soup and sometimes something for the oven. Most of the time we ate TV dinners. The only things he would buy at the store.

I have a scar. It has a story. I think all our scars tell a story. They make us different in some ways. Better I think, they help us learn valuable lessons, they remind us of our fragility as humans, the kindness of friends, the victory of a battle won over illness, or some other thing that has attacked us. I think they make us stronger. I have a scar just above my ankle. A funny scar. A funnier story. A wonderful memory of friends and what the word Friend really means. Scars. They give us character, or make us characters. They show we lived. I like that..

scars #2 (continued)

Hi, I just realized I never finished my scar stories.. I still have a couple left..

Let's see, oh yes, The next scars I received as an adult. I had to have my gall-bladder out, a carpel tunnel afflicted wrist repaired, and a knee scope.

The gall bladder was exciting the first symptoms I got while we were on vacation. I got hubby to take me to a neighbor. Geneva had been a nurse as a young woman. I would have gone to the ER except there was the worst fog I've ever seen. we had to creep the less then 1/2 mile distance to Geneva's farm. You literally could not see you hand in front of your face.

I couldn't breath for the pain. She got up and got me walking around her living room. She suspected it was a gall-bladder attack and told us so. When the pain passed, I decided I was OK to return home. I didn't want to go to the hospital there. It's a lovely small town, but the hospital is very small and not well equipped. They can keep you alive and usually stabilize a person until an ambulance or life-flight can take them to a larger hospital. I suffered 2 more attacks while there.

I returned home and immediately called my gastro guy.. He sent me for ultra sound and to the surgeon my Niece (the RN) recommended. My appointment was scheduled for a month later that left me not to pleased with the prospect of dealing with the nausea and pain for 4 more weeks. I was living on mashed potatoes and saltine crackers and the hope that they would not trigger an attack. Not fun..

My Gastro guy called to see if I had seen the Surgeon. Yes, you heard me right, He called Me... I told him my appointment was scheduled for a month from that date. He pronounced that I could not wait and hung up. I didn't really think his opinion mattered as Gastro guy was not doing the surgery nor was he the one who made the appointments. I was lucky to get in to this surgeon so I took the date I could get. About an hour later I got a call from Surgery guy's office. They had an opening the next day in the afternoon, did I think I could make it in. I said yes ! and did the happy dance for 5 whole minutes.

I waited in Surgery guys waiting room for about 2 hours. You could tell he had worked me in. I finally was led back to the exam room and waited. I had heard he was an excellent surgeon but didn't have much of a bedside manner. I didn't care, I wanted him to take out my gall-bladder, not take me out for dinner and a movie.. I didn't care at that point if he was Attila the Hun.

He came in and was quite pleasant. The first question he asked me was if I was a family member of the Gastro Dr. that had called him the preceding day. Called him out of surgery to tell him that I had to see have an immediate apt. and I needed surgery as soon as possible. I politely told him, No, Gastro Dr. was no relation. Well, He said, would the day after tomorrow be okay for the surgery. I was speechless, I said yes, and that was it. Easy peasy lemon squeesy...
Another scar was added. Actually there are 3 small 1 inch scars. that was where they did the whole surgery. through those holes. Just like my knee scope.

When I see that scar, I remember that having friends is important. Sometimes knowing the right person is very important. Gastro Dr. was well liked and well respected in his profession. When he asked for something to happen it did.

OK, that's enough scar stories for today. I have one left. The funniest one of all. You'll have to wait. maybe a day or two, but I can guarantee it will be well worth the wait..

Want To See My Scar?

First I want to Thank Marty http://networkedblogs.com/p4cU "Coffee with Marty" for giving me this great idea today (thank you Marty).

Scars, we all have them, little ones, big ones, ones that we try to hide, ones we proudly show off to anyone who will look at them, and ones that are so deep inside of us; that they change us forever.

Scars, I have a few, I bet you do too. I'll tell you about a couple of mine. Wow, now that I think about it, I have a more then a few. I won't bore you with with all those stories in one post, I'll spread them out.. hmm I might be able to do a whole "month of scars" .. LOL nope, don't worry.. I don't have that many..

The first scar I noticed was on my face. My right cheek to be exact. I was adopted so I don't think anyone really knew how I got that scar. I wondered for years how I came by it. I was adopted at the age of 2, so I got it early. It was dark and it showed. I found out years later, from my Aunt Janet, that it came during my birth, clamps to be exact. We were looking through the big box of family pictures and found one of me at about 3 days old. She asked if I had the scar, looked at it and said "it really is you"... Confirming with much finality that I was truly who we thought I was. there was hugging and crying. I was 33 yrs old and had never seen a baby picture of myself. So some scars help identify us. They confirm an event.

The next scar came a few years later. I was probably about 7 0r 8. I fell off my bike while riding it around the basketball hoops at the little park down at the end of our street. I walked home pushing my bike, crying, dirty, and bloody. I had skinned up both knees. The event called for a quick trip to the ER where the Dr. picked gravel and glass out of my knees for what seemed like forever. I was sent home with bandages, special cream, and tissues. I had a scar for many years afterward. That scar came during the course of a regular day. It got me some extra attention and lots of hugs from my Papa...

The third scar came when I was 9 ish.. Oh and it's a scar that I even tell my grandkids about, tho I don't show it to anyone anymore. It is my scar of bad behavior.

This story begins with a summer day, a new bb gun, and 3 kids playing while the babysitter is in the basement doing laundry. (remember laundry back then consisted of washing, drying, and ironing.. I think Jean was ironing) It all started out innocently enough. we were going to shoot at targets outside. We did.. We even went the 3 or 4 doors down to the other kids grandparents house to shoot in their back yard for a few minutes. Then for some reason, probably to get more ammo, we returned to our house.. and shot up my bedroom furniture. it all made really good targets and we were really quiet.. then while we were waiting for Jean to come back upstairs and fix us lunch we started goofing around, like kids do. Keith held the gun up to my abdomen and pronounce in his Matt Dillion voice, " I'm gonna shoot you". I laughed and told him there were no more bb's in the gun, so na na a boo boo... well, was I wrong. there was still one.. Keith very politely shot me right in the stomach. I cried, he cried, and the kid who was playing with us, well he lit out the door and I'll bet he is still running.. Jean heard all the commotion and came upstairs to see what we were into, and found me holding my stomach balling my eyes out.. She inspected my wound, dressed and bandaged it.. march Keith to his room, by the way, we'd shot up his bedroom furniture too; and left him there to "Think".. I was sent to my room, where Jean surveyed another mutilated dresser. I was told to sit and "Think" about what I'd done. Jean got a screwdriver and some other tools and tore that bb gun apart. Papa never could get it back together.. Anyway we received proper punishments. There were no more bb guns in our home. We spent a whole weekend filling in bb gun holes with wood putty (thank God the dressers were made of real wood) and then had to paint them. That was a Reminder Scar. A reminder that was made very real by my Papa that guns, even bb guns are not toys. They are dangerous and one of us could have lost an eye or worse. That scar reminds me that some things are dangerous even though they seem to be fun at the time.

The next scar came the summer I turned 13. I had a few minor complaints of pain and would lay around alot. After numerous trips to the Dr. I was put in the hospital for tests, nothing.. so I returned home. after 3 days I was taken to the hospital again and admitted for a lower exploratory.. I had a bad appendix and a few other abnormalities that were fixed. I have a scar. I thought it funny when the Dr., a man in his 50's, told me the incision was made in such a way that I could wear a bikini and no one would ever see it.. LOL I have NEVER worn a bikini. Tho I do thank you Dr. Dunworth for thinking there may come a time in my life when I would. My appendix ruptured 20 minutes after they removed it. That scar reminds me that my life is precious.

OK, that's all the scar stories I want to tell now. I'll finish it up later today. It's snowing, a lot, and I'm sure I'll have time to finish today or tomorrow.

Things You Can Do While Waiting For The Dr.

These past couple of weeks, I've made several trips to the Dr.'s office, testing facilities, and the like. It all started out innocently enough. I had to make an appt. with our family Dr. to get prescription refills, do the annual physical thing, EKG, blood work, mammogram, etc. Dear Husband doesn't really like the Dr. and with him being a diabetic, that is not good. So I made him an appt. too. Kind of " just get it over with now" thing. I scheduled us for the same time with two different Dr.'s so no one would have to wait. In and out, easy peasy..

Husband was in and out.. had his blood work, new prescriptions and was ready to head to the restaurant next door for a quick lunch. I, on the other hand, decided to mention my painful knee. I'd hurt it a few months ago. It wasn't getting better, so I mentioned it.. Well, that requires tests and all kinds of them. The Dr. said that they may as well send me back to the Orthopedic Surgeon I'd had for a previous knee surgery. He could order all the necessary tests. And so started my trips to Dr. offices, and testing facilities..

What can you do there.. you have to wait. For a specialist, sometimes a LONG time. Then the testing places require waiting, disrobing, or clothing adjustments of some type, and waiting in those creepy little rooms.. Well, some of them are nice, but never warm, and there are never any good magazines. I always forget to bring something to read. There are TVs but you can never sit near them, or hear them.. If you can get near one there will be a glowering sign that tells you "Not To Touch The TV". So I decided to think up some things I Can do while waiting in the Dr.'s waiting room, or the testing facility waiting room, or those creepy or not, little waiting rooms.. or those really scary procedure rooms..

First, sit by old people.. they love to talk.. about everything.. They are usually delightfully funny.. of course if you are in a procedure room, or dressing room this is not good. The person is probably lost or a pervert so direct them to the nearest hallway and flag down a medical person.

Go ahead and laugh at other people's jokes or answer their questions.. again, only in the waiting room.. the public one.. At one of my appts. a young man was getting a knee brace. He was being shown in the waiting room, how to put it on and adjust it. His pants were hiked up so the tech could show him.. A delightful older lady told him that he had the best looking leg she'd seen in years.. she laughed and oogled him till he left.. I went and sat by her. She was fun..

Get up and walk around, look at the plants. you can play "is it real or fake" right from your chair, then get up and feel it.. keep score.. get a person in the waiting room to play along too.

Sit by kids. they will always talk to you, of course they will probably have some heinous disease, but hey you're at the Dr.'s office.. everyone there is gonna be sick..

Once you go back to the exam room you can do several things: count the holes in the ceiling tiles, read all the posters, pull apart the plastic heart and play with the parts, count the tongue depressors, (make sure you put on a pair of the plastic gloves first), wash your hands in the sink, tear off a bunch of that wax paper stuff on the exam table to take home, go through all the cabinets and make sure the supplies are well stocked, count the floor tiles, divide by 6, and add 33.. then tweet it to all your friends.

If you are heading to the infamous dressing room: ask for a "happy" gown, wear it backwards, snap it up wrong, play with the bi-fold doors, wander around looking for the "potty room"..

If you are waiting in the procedure room: play with the earplugs, hum show tunes, tweet your peeps all about the weird looking machinery, make up songs about whatever body part is being tested (example: this is the way we make the knee bend, etc) find something to stick up your nose. *Warning, this may cause you to be taken to another procedure room.

I haven't done all these things, but they do sound fun.
Most of the time in the exam room, I make resolutions.. I resolve to lose weight, to eat only non-fat low cholesterol food, to Never eat salt again, to exercise, to stop drinking carbonated beverages, to eat only veggies for lunch, to use my eye drops every 4 hours, to take better care of myself.. I resolve all these things if I can just get a "free pass" this time and be on my way to lunch with my hubby. Next door.. At the Coney Island.. hey maybe I can have just one coney and some curly fries, with a Coke, I'll get diet Coke. before I make the big change.. and maybe some pecan pie too..

My Latest Creation: Fried Pies

Make a Smilebox recipe

this is my first time to try Smilebox, just hit play and the recipe will appear. Kind of cool. Enjoy.

Favorites: Troop Support Group Event..

This is one of My Summer Favorite Photos...

As some of you know I belong to a Troop Support Group..
"My Heart Supports The Troops" (http://www.mhstt.com/) Our group mails Theme packages to our deployed Soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan about every 2 weeks for the length of their deployment.

The photo above was taken at one of the many events we are invited to each year. We set up the trailer at various events in the area. We have information about the group available, letters from the Troops, photos they have sent us, along with some cool stuff that is available for a donation.. The donations are used to pay our shipping costs.

I love attending the events. I love meeting people, especially our Troops and their families. At many of the events we bring stuff and let anyone who wants, pack a box complete with a note from that person. It's interesting to watch the people who will pack a box. They are hesitant at first, then once they start they really get into it.

I've been part of the group since May of 2003. (they started in March of 2003) I love it. It is one of the most fulfilling things I've ever done. The group members can adopt a name off the list. That means that they will pack that box, write letters, and add an extra little treat or two occasionally. I've met some of the most delightful young men and women during the last few years. I still hear from a few of them even though they have returned home. I have made some great new friends too.

I hope that if you get the opportunity, that you support our Troops in a similar way. Letters from home are so important. We just had two of our Troops visit our last meeting. They both repeated what we have heard from every person on our list. " The boxes are great".. "It's so great to know we have so much support from home" etc. the list could go on and on.
take time today to thank a member of our Military. Let them know you support them.

Sunny Day Sweeping The Clouds Away...

This tune just popped into my head.. "Sunny Days, sweeping the clouds away, Friendly neighbors there that's where we'll meet.. can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street"... How do I get to Sesame Street?? I want to go.. Today. I want and Need some sunny days.

Just for fun this morning I clicked on the "next blog" tab at the top of this blogger page.. Just something to do. My truck was not running right, and so fear got me to turn around and skip church. anyway, when I got home I thought I would get on the net and see what was happening with my friends. No new additions. I was bored so I clicked on the "next blog" tab. Wow, are there lots of different blogs out there. I wonder how many.. I bet on this site alone there are hundreds if not thousands.

While I was glancing through the different Blogs I noticed one central theme in almost every one of them. The winter blues, blahs, or ho-hums. Amazing !! I had no idea that the winter months effect folks like this.. I thought it was a "cold weather" state thing, or maybe even just a "me and my friends" thing, but almost every blog I read mentioned "being bored" or "trying to get motivated", or feeling "blue".

I myself am a lover of spring. I know things have a time. Winter has to come. The earth has to renew itself. It has to rest and rejuvenate. I know that spring won't come if winter doesn't happen first.. It is so hard to wait. I'm impatient. I detest waiting for anything. I want it now. I want spring now. It has been dead and dreary enough. I'm ready for sun, and warmth, and color.

I'm ready for a Sunny day that sweeps the clouds away. I'm ready for Spring.