My Day with Doctors

Since the majority of my specialists are located at St. David's North Hospital, I try to schedule my appointments on the same day, if possible. Today I had appointments with my Ophthalmologist, my Bone Density doctor, and my new Neurologist. I got to the hospital 30 minutes before my first appointment. = Waiting. After rechecking my eye pressure, peripheral vision, and something else (not sure what), I learn that my vision is the best it's been since I was in elementary school (approximately 60 trips around the sun.) I've been nearsighted all of my adult life. Now I am not. Now I need reading glasses only. It is really difficult for me to live without glasses on my face. They have become more than a habit with me. They are an extension of my body. Furthermore, I may have to start wearing eye make-up again. I haven't worn eye make-up except for Halloween since 2009 when I got the Big M & Ms. (M.R.S.A. and Meningitis) Why eye make-up? Because, somehow I felt that eyeglass frames were all I needed for looks (perhaps intelligent looks). Also, make-up took a back seat to getting well during these past 4 years. Now vanity is encroaching and I think I'll get out the eye make-up once again. Second stop today was in the Menopausal/Bone Density unit. Obviously, I only need the second part, but the Hospital Gods feel a need to combine the two. Each time I walk into that area I feel that everyone in the waiting room is looking at me and thinking, "That old lady is lost." Meanwhile I do what I always told my girls to do, 'Walk like you know where you are going and hold your head up like you belong here.' Following that advice, I was never kicked out of anywhere I wasn't invited. Don't know about how it has worked for my daughters. My original bone density doctor determined that I am in the early stages of Osteoporosis. She wanted me to take the Proliva shots. (Maybe then I can fulfill a dream of going on the stage and hear, "Break a leg.") Being the Type A, Gold (True Colors), conscientious person that I am, I wanted to 'run this idea by' my nephrologist. I don't want to do anything that may cause more kidney problems than I already have. My kidney doctor researched both Provera and Proliva and determined that the former could cause problems with the cardiovascular system (which is of utmost importance for dialysis patients.) Proliva is not good for renal patients with less that 30% function (I belong to this group.) The bone density doctor doesn't necessarily agree. So she is backing away and referring me to a second bone density doctor who has patients who are also on dialysis. So I'll meet the new doctor in a couple of weeks and let her do battle with the kidney doctors. (Wouldn't it be wonderful if I got a transplant before then? Then the doctors wouldn't have to fight and there can be peace in the medical world.....at least this little part of the medical world.) Time to eat....got a side salad, some 'healthy'? chips and some green tea. Sat in the cafeteria for over an hour eating, people watching, and catching up on Facebook. (I had both my iPhone and iPad with me. People watching in a hospital is almost as entertaining as people watching at Wal-Mart. Butt cracks in both places.....low pants at Wal-Mart and hospital gowns at the hospital! As I was walking from the hospital cafeteria to the third doctor's office I was passed by 2 EMS people and 2 nurses rolling a patient on a gurney through the hall. I don't know where they were coming from nor going to. The ER was in another wing of the building and this area was not near any patient rooms. The patient was an older man, in a hospital gown, with both eyes and mouth closed, white as the sheet under him and as still as could be although the gurney was bumping right along. I really think he had 'passed on' and the people were trying to get him to the morgue. If they had covered his body with a sheet, everyone would know he was dead. This way we just surmise that he is. Hmmm! A little alarming to say the least. The last doctor was a neurologist. This area is all new to me. The doctor looked so much like one of my former music teachers, Jeff Ivey, that I really had trouble concentrating. Once he started talking and checking my reflexes, it became apparent that he wasn't going to discuss Les Miz (Jeff's favorite) nor Pittsburg Steelers or Penguins sports with me. He was so cute and young, I would have done anything he (the doctor) asked. When he told me to remove my shoes and walk down the hall on my tiptoes, spin around and walk back flat footed, I obliged. I guess we were both fortunate that he didn't ask me to disrobe further. He had a great 'bedside' (although there was no bed in the room unless you count an examination table) manner. As we finished the consultation, his final words were, "I want to see you in six months with a new kidney." I told him I would work on it, but I'd be back in six months regardless. (Gotta love a date with a doctor. I forgot to look to see if he had a ring on his left hand. I'll put that on my list.) Five hours after I arrived, I was ready to go home. So I did.

The One and Only Great Satellite

A mother never outgrows the need to know that her children are healthy, safe and sound, no matter their age nor the distance between them. In the old days before, cell phones, texting, internet, etc., we had to depend on our belief that they could take care of themselves and our faith in God to protect them. Now that Susan and Chris are alone on a sailboat moving around the Grecian Islands, (with no satellite service), I'm reverting back to The One and Only Great Satellite, God to let them feel my love, pride, and happiness that they are fulfilling a dream. In turn, I'll try to feel His Comfort and not worry until I hear from them.

My Besties Are Gone

Two of my closest friends seven years of my life were The Reel Twins, Barb and Bev. We were besties from the sixth grade through graduation. We went to MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) together every Sunday night. We had many sleepovers together. Barb and I were roommates at a summer Journalism Institute at IU Bloomington for two weeks. We worked closely together on the WigWam (yearbook). We hung out together at the Miramar Swim Club every summer. I always remembered their birthday, November 19. I don't know why, because I never remembered anyone else's. College separated us and we went on our individual paths of careers, marriages, divorces, children, and grandchildren. Decades later we found each other via email and 'reconnected'. Although we never saw each other again, we 'talked' via the keyboard and it was quite fun, until Bev became ill with COPD. What a loss when she passed away. Barb and I commiserated the loss via our keyboards. It was like I had lost an arm. Just a few months ago, Barb wrote that she wasn't feeling well. Soon she learned that she had cancer. We once again spent hours writing each other until she became too weak to go to her computer (in her basement.) I didn't want to consider that was a sign of what was to come. Today, I learn that I have lost my other arm. I will miss your emails, Barb. You handled your illness just as you handled the other 'mountains' in your life.....with class. You were beautiful, classy and so very sweet. You will be missed by so many....especially me.

A Letter From My Dad

A letter from my dad. One stormy January afternoon while I was in my senior year at college I received a phone call from him 'ordering' me to catch a bus and come home that night. I did, of course, and when I got there I found that he had bought me a new 1963 little red Corvair to drive for my quickly approaching student teaching assignment. Three problems: 1. I had to be back in classes (90 miles away) the next morning. 2. There was a blizzard outside. 3. The car was a 'four on the floor' and I had only driven automatics. We bundled up and I got behind the wheel and he in the passenger seat. We started up Shortridge Road toward Washington Street (Hwy 40), turned left and drove to Kitley Ave. where I did my best at 'clutching' and shifting gears going north on Kitley. When he thought I had proven that I knew what to do, we turned around and came home. I drove back to Terre Haute the next day, made it to class on time, then took time to check out my new car. This letter was in the glove compartment. Dad had left me written instructions re: the car. (More proof of his penmanship and 'gentle' advice.)

Coincidence or Divine Intervention?

I don't believe in coincidence. I believe in Divine Intervention. Examples: 1st. I'm playing Neil Diamond and The Beatles on my CD player. (My favorite singer and group). 2nd. I'm cleaning out boxes of memories and as I find my father's laminated obituary and desk dictionary signed by him, Neil Diamond is singing Pretty Amazing Grace. 3rd. I receive a box of the largest chocolate covered strawberries I've ever seen from The Brewzoo. Guess what starts playing.....Strawberry Fields Forever. Can't wait to see what the next 'coincidence' will be.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Happy Birthday, Daddy. My father has been gone now as long as he lived on Earth. He would have been 104 today. Gone too soon at 52. He was one of the most humble men I ever knew. He encouraged me to be a journalist and a teacher. He shared with me his wisdom. He fought the "Big C" and hung on long enough to see me start my career in education, dying at the end of my first week of teaching. Oh, Daddy, how I wish you could have been around to see what followed. You would have loved my daughters and grandchildren and especially the fact that they all lived in your home state of Tennessee. I have so many memories of special times with you (walking blocks to the ice cream parlor for chocolate malts, driving to the hospital to get my broken arm fixed, going to The Armory for a boxing match, moving in and out and in and out of the dorm at Indiana State, learning to drive a stick shift in a January blizzard, and more) and will cherish them forever. I miss you, Happy Birthday!

I'm Proud to Have Been a Teacher

I am proud to have been a teacher/principal/professor. I worked my fingers to the bone and many, many long hours and never made an enviable salary. I loved every minute of it and wouldn't trade it for anything. However, I was given the freedom to teach how I thought the students would learn best. I tried to make learning fun and I think my students learned. Most of them grew up to be wonderful contributors to society. Yes, I'm proud to have been a teacher! I'm saddened to see the state of education today. I hurt for today's teachers whose hands are tied by political regulations. Teachers are naturally creative, but they aren't allowed time for creativity. They are bogged down by paperwork and regulations. The children are being served, not entertained. Politicians need to take a cue from Sesame Street. The program is constantly entertaining, yet educational. THAT'S the way children learn and retain knowledge. When I taught reading, we sang. When I taught math, we danced. When I taught social studies, we dressed up. When I taught science, we got our hands dirty. I'll never forget my first year of teaching. I had a room full (36) of third graders. I was in 'hog heaven'. My first parent complaint to the principal was because we started each day with morning exercises = pledge, national anthem, scripture, followed by calisthenics to The Beatles' songs. (You can do some mean Jumping Jacks to 'She Loves You'.) This was 1963. The Beatles were new on the scene. (So was I) The parents didn't complain about the patriotism, nor the scripture. Parents didn't approve of my choice of music. So the principal came down to observe our morning exercises. By the second verse, he was jumping with us! Let it be known that I never was a traditional teacher with my hair in a bun and my feet in orthopedic shoes. When I'm Queen of the World, teachers will be allowed to have fun, freedom, and frivolity in THEIR classrooms.