People of Wal Mart: Public Foray Number Two

I am sure that in one way or another you have witnessed the comedy inherent at Wal Mart.  The tattoos, exposed flab and crazy outfits.  Perhaps you've seen that very large yelling mother with several disheveled children shouting commands from her Wal Mart issued shopping scooter.  That is my personal favorite that came back to haunt me today.  We opted for the least busy of our two non-local Wal Mart stores.  Jeff had called ahead to see if they had a wheelchair that I could use.  Of course they did, the disabled have every right to low low prices!  It was Saturday and crowded,  I regretted not asking for a temporary handicapped parking permit.  Crutches make everything seem far way.  Jeff pulled up to the curb and went to retrieve my wheelchair.  He came out of the store with a big GRIN on his face riding on an electric shopping scooter.  UGGGHHH, I took a quick look at the kids-- a little dishelveled.  Great, I am nearly that mom.  Don't worry, all my pet peeves directed my actions:  I did not run into the back of anyone's ankles,  I did not use the horn (all though Jeff begged), I didn't use any sort of loud voice.  Despite all that precaution people stared like crazy, doubtless some thought about pulling out their cell phone cameras. (It was a slow day for freakiness).  Right between lunchmeat and cheese, I saw another woman with a broken leg riding along like me.  Our eyes met, we checked out the footwear and smiled.  She pulled up and we chatted.  Turns out she fell down the stairs... in the splits.  Her back leg was jacked.  She tore the back of her knee and her ACL, and broke her fibula.  Hey same break, what do you know.  We laughed and wished each other a speedy recovery.   After that people still stared, but I had two happy thoughts: One, I didn't get hurt at home, and as such don't have to look at those bleachers every day and two, my knees both work.  Yea, for bendablity.

Back To School: Public Foray Number one

Oh the fun of seeing all your school friends again, smelling that musty gym smell, shelling out cash for the PTA... school is coming.  Usually, this is the time of year that I begin mourning because I will really miss my kids.  They are helpful.  They are nice.  They are fun.  It has taken half the summer of being together for us to get into the groove of being together and now I am NO fun.  Curses.  So, this year we'll all be glad when the bell rings on the first day.  I braved registration today as my first non-doctor public foray.  I saw all my school friends, you know--the secretaries, aides, teachers, PTA chics, other mom volunteers.  It seemed that those who knew me noticed the Boot right away, while those who were complete strangers felt free to run me over at will.  I thought taking a stroller was a hassle, but a mommy with a walker is a total circus.  Well, thanks to the strangers for not staring, but don't avert your eyes so much that you miss that I am sitting here.  To be fair, sitting in the walker makes me as tall as a 5th grader, so moms who are used to moving through a sea of short bodies that ripple and flow to make way, had no chance against my aluminum walker!  I will say that for next year I have learned a secret tip... the head secretary is placed in the back corner with the copy machine and all registration can be done with her, she just avoids the fray by hanging back a bit.  She even unlocked the hallways so I could actually use the handicap entrance at the front of the school. (The grade is less intimidating than the 45 degree drop down the gym ramp-- you gotta be careful when your feet have wheels).

I passsssed...

Yesterday, I met with my surgeon for a follow up.  Folks, it was NOT pretty.  I did get to see what had been pestering me for the last 4 days and yes, Jeff, I really did have blisters.  Good thing I got to do some Pioneer Day bonding with my fearless forebearers by sharing in some really crazy blisters.  I will not go into detail, but I am sure they are quite unlike the type that a new pair of shoes has given you in the past.  My incision looks "really straight," "great," and "perfect:" according to all the men in the room.  I will excuse those three, but my yellowish green skinny atrophy leg with a giant purplish gash running up the side didn't look anything like those words-- except straight-ish.  Once they opened the cast and laid my vulnerable weakling leg open to the outside world, they said that I could hop back on my crutches and go down the hall for an x-ray.  Excuse me please?  I should back up and say that my crutches skill are about nil thanks to my handy walker.  We had brought the crutches as a more mobile way to get from the front door of the office to the reception desk.... not as a mechanism for further injury.  Don't worry, I didn't embarrass myself at this time.  Next the surgeon looked at the films, maybe to see the perfection of plate and screw placement to appease his guilt over the crazy bruising and the blisters.  He then described my options for footwear for the next 6 weeks.  The boot, light and protective, utilitarian-- the army boot of post-op or the nimble lace up ankle brace which is much lighter weight and consists of breathable (thin) fabric that is laced like a converse all-star without sole or toe.  As an added benefit the lace-up has additional arch support of elastic and velcro.  Ack.  really?  Of course I chose the boot-- not the dr.'s choice, so he threw in three weeks of boot and three weeks brace.  He apparently doesn't get that my three children have little to no idea that there is anything wrong with me, let alone a broken leg of all things.  They are merely convinced that I am lazy and now own a super fun array of carts and stilts that only I get to play with.  The boot screams this extremity is extremely broken, please do NOT invade my new larger personal space bubble.  The ankle brace says, "Hey I am an athlete with a minor injury, but the coach says I'll be in a couple weeks."  The Dr. did not give in...
Next he talked physical therapy.  That was fast-- I still have stitches, you know.  He proceeded to put my right foot in and my right foot out and shake it all about.  By the time he was done doing the range of motion hokey-pokey, I was white as a ghost and going for the full blackout routine.  Backpeddle by the Dr. He brought me some M&Ms for my "blood sugar."  I was too busy with my deep breathing to tell him about the Strawberry Shortcake I had for lunch 30 minutes ago.  After that, I guess all my instruction was over.  I was asking him questions as he backed out of the door.
After all of that I didn't pass out, but didn't feel ready to brave the crutches.  Jeff went to get my meds and appointments worked out while I waited.  We had decided to use a wheelchair to get me safely to the car because I was still a bit wobbly.  Maybe I did have low blood sugar.  One M&M would make everything better it had a peanut for protein right?  One was all I needed to get my body into action.  I called down the hall to Jeff, I was either going to pass out or puke right now.  (Sorry, I had to use the nasty puke word because really the lure of the alliteration was too strong for any self-respecting English major).  Jeff called down to a nurse and she tossed him a garbage can as he ran towards my room where I proceeded to purge myself of both the candy and cake in a most violent fashion.  This was not my most endearing moment-- I could tell from Jeff's face, but I really did feel MUCH better.  I offered to jump on my crutches and make a run for it, but Jeff's nerves had HAD it with my antics-- he got the wheelchair.

A couple miles down the road he asking if that was embarrassing.  Um, nope.  Hopefully they forget me over the next 6 weeks.  I'll be sure to tip off the physical therapist to my special tricks.  Maybe I will develop some stamina in training so my next visit will restricted to dry humor and inconspicuous grimaces.

Yep, It's Broke.

State Tourney Part two. There were no trophies for Ben, but I received a load of custom stainless steel that I can always carry with me as a reminder of how fun baseball 2010 was. I now have a plate running along the outside of my fibula with 5 screws to put my leg together again. Apparently the twisting move I made to save Caitlyn from fracture ended up exploding the pieces of my bone hither and thither. What's to be done, cadaver paste to the rescue. The surgeon strategically squirted it into the empty spaces so my own bone has something to grab onto while healing for the next 7 weeks. Yes, as an added bonus I added more hardware and two weeks onto my recovery time. In addition to all the exterior ligaments on the inside of my leg I tore the ligaments that actually hold my tibia and fibula together. End result 3-4 inch bolt through the bottom of both bones to help the interior ligaments stitch back together. Even in the old Anatomy and Phys. days, I never fully appreciated the precarious interactions that enable walking....

So, thanks to my mom's generous set of new cotton sheets, I am rediscovering sleep, reading, suduko, crosswords, sleep, crochet, reading picture books, playing monopoly and phase ten all from the comfort of my bed. Good thing we upgraded to a new mattress in February ... I can feel the good karma coming around.

Thanks to both of my grandmothers for their walkers that have saved my dignity a few times and my sanity daily.

So if any of you have any great new sedentary hobbies or skills I should take up, just let me know.

Is it broken?

Ben's baseball team made it to the state tournament, which means more ball fields. They started yesterday bright and early and I packed snacks, drinks and a million thing for Noah and Caitlyn to do, so I could watch the game. When we pulled up it turns out that all adults have to pay to get into the ball park. It was only 2 dollars, but really paying to watch your own kid still rubs the wrong way. While the boys warmed up, Noah and Caitlyn started climbing the bleachers until Caitlyn cried because she was up too high and was scared to come down. Yes, those bleachers were super high and steep. I climbed to the rescue and started carrying her down. With only 3 or 4 rows left to descend, I slipped or something and fell off the side of the benches to the pavement with Caitlyn in my arms. Apparently I did some sort of tricky stunt double maneuver so that Cait didn't get hurt, but I did.

I looked down to see that my ankle was really out of whack. Like bones bulging in places they shouldn't. And that was just the right side, the left ankle was swollen to the size of a tennis ball. Great, two broken ankles.-- I guess I am a girl who will be able to finish her summer booklist. One the baseball moms drove me, Noah and Caitlyn to the emergency room, where Jeff met us. I ended up with only a major sprain on the left ankle, a broken right fibia, and torn ligments in the right ankle. Prognosis: another first-- surgery and at least 6 weeks in a cast.

Dead or Alive....

Well the blog, as Debi pointed out, is DOA and since I am no good at Facebook, I guess I can commit to this. As you all are busy, you can understand my excuses, but that doesn't mean that you will accept them. We have been embroiled in marriages, deaths and projects for sure, but I hope to do better and document what we have to show for our negligence.

Bear Lake, UT

The first annual family reunion was held last week. Even our grandma, who hasn't camped in over 25 years went. All of Jeff's siblings attended except two and that is still a lot of people. We snuck around the 1-15 construction zone and opted for a route that included a heavily guarded Evanston... can't let those illegal aerial fireworks into Utah. The result was only 2 1/2 hours instead of 3-4 hours. We set up our great new tent and our kids danced inside for joy.

Some highlights included:

• Laying on the ground at midnight finding satellites with our kids.
• Dutch oven desserts. Apple crisp with a full jar of caramel? Who thought of that?
• The perfectly laid campfire (by Jeff)
• The teenage girls who went to sleep instead of talking until 3am. They even sang the Princess Pat with me-- talk about letting your cool hair down.
• The Snipe Hunt hosted by my cool nephew Ethan. Caitlyn was scared of snipes the rest of the trip and my boys were seriously questioning the travel brochure and map because the history of Bear Lake was not right-- the way that Ethan told it.... Ha.
• Green Fire courtesy of our resident Chemist
• Showers that gave Jeff the 2x Boost in energy
• Bloomington Lake, the hike, the lake, the glacier, the granite and mostly the rope swing and my crazy soaked husband who whooped and hollered like a crazy person after finally giving in to his need to risk life and limb--- well comfort for sure.
• Minnetonka Caves. Stalagmites. stalagtites and bats. Yes, two tiny bats and 888 stairs. I am totally counting that as a workout. They look excited, no? Well, they don't know that the bats are tiny yet.
• La Beau's Shakes even though I opted not to have raspberry. I know its a travesty in Bear Lake, but Cait and I mangaged to muscle through our PB Cup Shake anyway.
• Bear Lake. I have never seen such blues mingled together. Gorgeous.

Of course there were a few lowlights:

• Cooking sloppy joes from scratch --12 batches instead of just using Manwich like my wise SIL suggested. It did taste better, but really everything tastes good camping. Despite swearing that I could NOT eat the stuff after smelling it for two days, I ate one anyway. Maybe the smoke cleared my senses.
• COLD... the nights, mornings, and the lake. Lucky for us our kids froze before we did, so we didn't look like party poopers.
• COLD yes, more of it, shivering in the night in my sleeping bag that is rated down to 20 degrees F. I found myself sometime in the night wondering if there was some secret instruction manual I should have read.
• Bathrooms-- backed up and overflowing... I imagine that was the quickest septic tank fix in the history of the park.
• Our cave tour guide.....dud.