Shopping with the girls yesterday cost me some of my 'fix-problems-on-the-phone' time that is unique to my Thursday mornings. Usually between 8 and 9:30 AM I make about a dozen calls to fix problems that range from doctor bills to phone/cable service to appointments and school conflicts. I had a list of calls that needed to be made, and I was pretty sure I wasn't going to get to make them.
The shopping itself was kind of fun. Ramming through Wal-Mart with three carts, waving at Squeaker whenever out paths crossed ( GAMMA!!!) and being the only people with large orders checking out - all entertaining. Loading three FULL carts full of stuff into a Honda Accord was Tetris-ninja challenging. The trunk was so packed I almost couldn't put my ice scraper in there. Squeaker's car seat was surrounded. Curlygirl had stuff under her feet and in her lap. The girls unloaded my stuff and we made sure the perishables were put away. We all unloaded Curlygirl, and then JuJuBee and BoosDaddy got the rest out. I made it to work shortly after 9 and hit the phone.
Babygirl has an appointment with a counselor next week. I called our NP to discuss how to set up her gyn appointment, but she was rounding and I was told to call back in two hours. The next time I had a moment to look at my cell phone it was 7 PM so that was never finished.
I'm hoping today is kind. I don't mind busy. I don't mind giving my all at work. But when my day is over I want it OVER with no tasks lingering on into the evening.
I want to come home. I want to come home at five, not seven.
DeeDee
Friday, April 4, 2014
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Spreading Myself Thin.....
It's always this text from Curlygirl: "Whatcha doing?"
It's code for, "Hey, I need something. Probably twenty minutes ago. And it's going to cost you some time. And gas - and maybe money. Oh, and it's of vital importance to Squeaker."
JuJuBee has a similar text, although hers is usually more upfront, listing specifically what she needs, why she needs it twenty minutes ago and what will happen to Boo and Sunny if I can't help - no wasting time with code for her.
LOL! It's a part of parenting young adults that I didn't anticipate. The girls do their best to be independent, but they don't drive. Generally what they need is totally doable - a lift to a grocery store, a pack of diapers the day before payday, use of the washer and dryer. The problem is, sometimes, that I'm completely out of energy. Work is tougher than it's ever been. Babygirl's illness is exhausting sometimes. Mom. Housekeeping. Headaches. It all adds up, and sometimes I'm just not available 'twenty minutes ago.'
On the first both of them asked me to take them shopping. Walmart and Aldi are so much better at stretching their limited budgets than the grocery stores within walking distance of their homes. And I'm happy to help - I shop there myself, so it isn't out of my way to go, unless they pick a weeknight for the crisis. Tuesday evening was out of the question. Wednesday, worse. So this morning I am leaving now to take everybody to the store at 7 AM.
Pollyanna says, "Hey! One less thing to do on Saturday!"
Sometimes I want to slap that Pollyanna.
DeeDee
It's code for, "Hey, I need something. Probably twenty minutes ago. And it's going to cost you some time. And gas - and maybe money. Oh, and it's of vital importance to Squeaker."
JuJuBee has a similar text, although hers is usually more upfront, listing specifically what she needs, why she needs it twenty minutes ago and what will happen to Boo and Sunny if I can't help - no wasting time with code for her.
LOL! It's a part of parenting young adults that I didn't anticipate. The girls do their best to be independent, but they don't drive. Generally what they need is totally doable - a lift to a grocery store, a pack of diapers the day before payday, use of the washer and dryer. The problem is, sometimes, that I'm completely out of energy. Work is tougher than it's ever been. Babygirl's illness is exhausting sometimes. Mom. Housekeeping. Headaches. It all adds up, and sometimes I'm just not available 'twenty minutes ago.'
On the first both of them asked me to take them shopping. Walmart and Aldi are so much better at stretching their limited budgets than the grocery stores within walking distance of their homes. And I'm happy to help - I shop there myself, so it isn't out of my way to go, unless they pick a weeknight for the crisis. Tuesday evening was out of the question. Wednesday, worse. So this morning I am leaving now to take everybody to the store at 7 AM.
Pollyanna says, "Hey! One less thing to do on Saturday!"
Sometimes I want to slap that Pollyanna.
DeeDee
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Chopsticks....
When I was in medical school and residency I spent a lot of time in and around New York City. We were all broke, so we didn't chill at the Four Seasons or go to the latest Broadway hit musicals. We walked. We took subways. We picnicked in Central Park. We rode the Staten Island Ferry for a quarter. And we always ate in Chinatown.
Chinatown has hundreds of restaurants. Many fill with local businesspeople at lunch, some cater to tourists on the main drag. But my friends and I had a favorite: A noodle house just off Canal Street.
The entire area smelled of fish. The restaurant had a tank of eels in the front window for your personal dinner selection if eels were your thing (I confess I lacked the courage to try them. Citygirl would have been ashamed of me then!). There was not a Caucasian face or a fork to be seen. And they made the most AWESOME noodle soup.
Three kinds of noodles to pick from: Thin rice, wide rice, or egg. One delicious base broth (I'm guessing pork). And about thirty add-ons, pick one: Jumbo shrimp, sausage, poached egg, fish balls, octopus, to name a few. The bowl was nearly a foot across, and the meal was hot and satisfying. It cost $3. The catch? Well, learning to eat long skinny noodles with chopsticks and a spoon. I wasn't kidding. The restaurant had no forks.
One day, while struggling with this delicious but challenging meal, I watched a young Chinese mom feeding her baby. With chopsticks. One grain of rice at a time. I was sincerely impressed. To me it seemed to be the best fine motor skill exhibition EVER. I knew then that I simply HAD to master chopsticks.
Sunday evening we took three grandkids out for Chinese, including eight month old Sunny. And I got to prove my Chopstick Mastery. One grain of rice at a time.
DeeDee
Chinatown has hundreds of restaurants. Many fill with local businesspeople at lunch, some cater to tourists on the main drag. But my friends and I had a favorite: A noodle house just off Canal Street.
The entire area smelled of fish. The restaurant had a tank of eels in the front window for your personal dinner selection if eels were your thing (I confess I lacked the courage to try them. Citygirl would have been ashamed of me then!). There was not a Caucasian face or a fork to be seen. And they made the most AWESOME noodle soup.
Three kinds of noodles to pick from: Thin rice, wide rice, or egg. One delicious base broth (I'm guessing pork). And about thirty add-ons, pick one: Jumbo shrimp, sausage, poached egg, fish balls, octopus, to name a few. The bowl was nearly a foot across, and the meal was hot and satisfying. It cost $3. The catch? Well, learning to eat long skinny noodles with chopsticks and a spoon. I wasn't kidding. The restaurant had no forks.
One day, while struggling with this delicious but challenging meal, I watched a young Chinese mom feeding her baby. With chopsticks. One grain of rice at a time. I was sincerely impressed. To me it seemed to be the best fine motor skill exhibition EVER. I knew then that I simply HAD to master chopsticks.
Sunday evening we took three grandkids out for Chinese, including eight month old Sunny. And I got to prove my Chopstick Mastery. One grain of rice at a time.
DeeDee
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Dust and Clutter....
I had mentioned, nearly a month ago, that Babygirl and I were going to attempt to de-clutter the attic. What with one thing and another, we finally started work on it yesterday. To understand the general complexity of the process, an overview of the layout may be in order.
Our third floor is finished, mostly. There are nearly 300 square feet of space tucked under the roof with four foot knee walls. There are two good-sized walk in closets leading to attic accesses behind the knee walls, one on each side of the house. These spaces are as long as the house and go around the corners, front and back. They are truly accessible only to someone who is not afraid of dirt, and who is able to kneel and crawl. Generally speaking, one side is for me, the kids, and holiday stuff. The other, Hubby.
Since Curlygirl, Squeaker and SqueakersDaddy moved out nearly two years ago, the third floor has become the attic again. Anything not needed much or often has landed up there. There are boxes of things that I packed up off the shelves in what is now Mom's living room that I haven't put out on our 'new' side of the house, largely because china doodads and toddler grandchildren do not mix well. Some boxes haven't been unpacked since we moved here twelve years ago. There are things belonging to Citygirl, Curlygirl, JuJuBee and my nephew. Our camping gear, suitcases and ski equipment are strewn around everywhere. The Christmas stuff never went back behind the knee wall - it's still parked in the room.
Babygirl wants to move up there. Who wouldn't - the space is fantastic. There are two large dormers with beautiful windows. It could use some paint, and some flooring, but it's truly a great teen space.
Yesterday we put in three hours of heavy labor. I went into 'my' behind-the-knee wall space and cleared out a bunch of useless junk, organizing leftover stuff into general areas so each persons' collection of crap is generally all in one area. Babygirl gathered up holiday stuff and shoved it in so I could put that all away. We put all the suitcases in one spot, out of the way, for placement in a closet, as space becomes available. We sorted boxes, organizing six for donation to the church rummage sale, with two bags of clothing for donation and two bags of trash.
Lent has been in progress for 22 days (Sundays don't count - did you know that?). If we are aiming for Forty Bags in Forty Days we are about twelve bags behind. We are going to need hubby to kick this up a notch since there is a LOT of his stuff up there. The next biggest contributor to the 'stuff' collection is Citygirl, and she's not here to defend her territory, so I'm going gently there and working on storage rather than removal. My nephew is still in school, so I think I am stuck with the chain mail, greaves, and telescope for a time.
Does organizing someone else's stuff and putting it where you can't see it count as removing it? If so, we are a LOT less behind in the project! Maybe we'll manage a couple of hours there tonight.
DeeDee
Our third floor is finished, mostly. There are nearly 300 square feet of space tucked under the roof with four foot knee walls. There are two good-sized walk in closets leading to attic accesses behind the knee walls, one on each side of the house. These spaces are as long as the house and go around the corners, front and back. They are truly accessible only to someone who is not afraid of dirt, and who is able to kneel and crawl. Generally speaking, one side is for me, the kids, and holiday stuff. The other, Hubby.
Since Curlygirl, Squeaker and SqueakersDaddy moved out nearly two years ago, the third floor has become the attic again. Anything not needed much or often has landed up there. There are boxes of things that I packed up off the shelves in what is now Mom's living room that I haven't put out on our 'new' side of the house, largely because china doodads and toddler grandchildren do not mix well. Some boxes haven't been unpacked since we moved here twelve years ago. There are things belonging to Citygirl, Curlygirl, JuJuBee and my nephew. Our camping gear, suitcases and ski equipment are strewn around everywhere. The Christmas stuff never went back behind the knee wall - it's still parked in the room.
Babygirl wants to move up there. Who wouldn't - the space is fantastic. There are two large dormers with beautiful windows. It could use some paint, and some flooring, but it's truly a great teen space.
Yesterday we put in three hours of heavy labor. I went into 'my' behind-the-knee wall space and cleared out a bunch of useless junk, organizing leftover stuff into general areas so each persons' collection of crap is generally all in one area. Babygirl gathered up holiday stuff and shoved it in so I could put that all away. We put all the suitcases in one spot, out of the way, for placement in a closet, as space becomes available. We sorted boxes, organizing six for donation to the church rummage sale, with two bags of clothing for donation and two bags of trash.
Lent has been in progress for 22 days (Sundays don't count - did you know that?). If we are aiming for Forty Bags in Forty Days we are about twelve bags behind. We are going to need hubby to kick this up a notch since there is a LOT of his stuff up there. The next biggest contributor to the 'stuff' collection is Citygirl, and she's not here to defend her territory, so I'm going gently there and working on storage rather than removal. My nephew is still in school, so I think I am stuck with the chain mail, greaves, and telescope for a time.
Does organizing someone else's stuff and putting it where you can't see it count as removing it? If so, we are a LOT less behind in the project! Maybe we'll manage a couple of hours there tonight.
DeeDee
Thursday, March 27, 2014
The Day-to-Day Grind.....
We continue the daily struggle of getting Babygirl to school. We win about half the time. I honestly can't look at her and say she isn't in too much pain for school. We are taking away electronics when she's home. We are pushing her to do more school work at home (she is WAY ahead of her classmates in English - she's read nearly all of To Kill a Mockingbird and they are still on the third chapter. This is one of those seasons where it just feels like we are grinding away for survival.
We recently got an interim report card. It was incredibly depressing. She is passing her core courses with B's and C's - English, Global Studies, Math and Science. Her gym and technology teachers both note that her "attendance is affecting grades". And her AIS Math and English classes both have "Fail" listed as her grade.
This sort of thing makes my blood boil, smoke come out of my ears and bad words out of my mouth. The kid as an IEP (Individual Education Plan) that is SUPPOSED to protect her from all of that fallout. Gym is supposed to give her written assignments to do when she is out. Technology is supposed to assess whether she 'gets' the point of the project if she can't finish it and grade on understanding rather that attendance. And AIS is her academic support class! If a kid is failing THAT, aren't they failing HER? I made a bajillion phone calls last week but have had not time since to push it all through. It is just ugly. And depressing.
She goes to high school next year. She has the school's academic catalog and is eagerly perusing arts electives. She wants to take guitar and theater. She's looking for something bigger than herself to be a part of in school. I'm thrilled that she's looking, stunned that she still has that hope within her when I just want to throw up my hands at the school and just say, "Screw it all! It's hopeless and you morons are never going to get it!"
I cannot lose faith. As long as Babygirl has bright-eyed plans for a better year next year, I'll keep pushing both her and the school.
DeeDee
We recently got an interim report card. It was incredibly depressing. She is passing her core courses with B's and C's - English, Global Studies, Math and Science. Her gym and technology teachers both note that her "attendance is affecting grades". And her AIS Math and English classes both have "Fail" listed as her grade.
This sort of thing makes my blood boil, smoke come out of my ears and bad words out of my mouth. The kid as an IEP (Individual Education Plan) that is SUPPOSED to protect her from all of that fallout. Gym is supposed to give her written assignments to do when she is out. Technology is supposed to assess whether she 'gets' the point of the project if she can't finish it and grade on understanding rather that attendance. And AIS is her academic support class! If a kid is failing THAT, aren't they failing HER? I made a bajillion phone calls last week but have had not time since to push it all through. It is just ugly. And depressing.
She goes to high school next year. She has the school's academic catalog and is eagerly perusing arts electives. She wants to take guitar and theater. She's looking for something bigger than herself to be a part of in school. I'm thrilled that she's looking, stunned that she still has that hope within her when I just want to throw up my hands at the school and just say, "Screw it all! It's hopeless and you morons are never going to get it!"
I cannot lose faith. As long as Babygirl has bright-eyed plans for a better year next year, I'll keep pushing both her and the school.
DeeDee
Friday, March 21, 2014
Spilled Pills......
Keeping medications up-to-date and organized is an ongoing trial. I try hard to fill two weeks' worth of pill boxes at at time for Babygirl (I do a month at a time for my Mom and I). I'm limited to two weeks with Babygirl's meds because her transplant-related medications can only be doled out one month at a time, unlike our usual three-month supply on everything else. I call them in ahead of time - sometimes too far ahead.
Last week was a 'too far ahead' week, so the pharmacy didn't fill a couple of important scripts and I forgot to call back and remind them. Then Hubby forgot to go get them. And then I forgot to remind him. And THEN we had to go to Philly. So.....
On Monday morning I had our docs call in three days' worth of two transplant medications to the pharmacy at CHOP. Since our refills were already filled and insurance-paid for at home, our insurance wouldn't cover the extra pills (they will eventually). When I picked them up, the total was $188. For three days' worth of only two of the many medications she takes daily. $188. That would be $1880/month just for those two medications.
Gulp.
Back at home on Wednesday, I picked up the rest of the meds and sorted two weeks of pills. We spent the weekend at church for our Mission Team retreat, and on Sunday evening, Babygirl reached into the cupboard, and knocked a nearly-full sorter to the ground. The scatter was impressive.
It has been repetitively drilled into us to keep every thing clean. Up until now, any pill that hit the floor was immediately discarded and replaced. But.....$188. We picked up all the pills. We'd been gone all weekend and the housekeeper had just cleaned while we were gone, and we didn't see any dust.....so I put them all in a baggie for further consideration. I probably would have just chucked them, but two days later, she did it AGAIN. And this time the floor wasn't quite as clean. The pills went into a different bag, labeled so I'd know which were which, and I gave it all some thought. When it came time for me to refill the pill sorter this morning, I had to make a decision. We were out of a couple of things - it was use some of the spilled pills or skip doses.
I threw out the entire second bag, the one from the dirtier floor. I threw out all of the pills we get in three month supplies, because it's easier to finagle spares. And I was left with 66 anti-rejection pills. $376.
I put them in the sorter.
I am a bad mom.
Okay, I know it was a tough choice, and for at least today there was absolutely no other choice. I can still go pick up the new bottles and get rid of the (potentially) dirty pills. The risk of infection is small, but if it happens it will be a big infection, y'know what I mean?
I'm really, really missing the five-second rule.
DeeDee
Last week was a 'too far ahead' week, so the pharmacy didn't fill a couple of important scripts and I forgot to call back and remind them. Then Hubby forgot to go get them. And then I forgot to remind him. And THEN we had to go to Philly. So.....
On Monday morning I had our docs call in three days' worth of two transplant medications to the pharmacy at CHOP. Since our refills were already filled and insurance-paid for at home, our insurance wouldn't cover the extra pills (they will eventually). When I picked them up, the total was $188. For three days' worth of only two of the many medications she takes daily. $188. That would be $1880/month just for those two medications.
Gulp.
Back at home on Wednesday, I picked up the rest of the meds and sorted two weeks of pills. We spent the weekend at church for our Mission Team retreat, and on Sunday evening, Babygirl reached into the cupboard, and knocked a nearly-full sorter to the ground. The scatter was impressive.
It has been repetitively drilled into us to keep every thing clean. Up until now, any pill that hit the floor was immediately discarded and replaced. But.....$188. We picked up all the pills. We'd been gone all weekend and the housekeeper had just cleaned while we were gone, and we didn't see any dust.....so I put them all in a baggie for further consideration. I probably would have just chucked them, but two days later, she did it AGAIN. And this time the floor wasn't quite as clean. The pills went into a different bag, labeled so I'd know which were which, and I gave it all some thought. When it came time for me to refill the pill sorter this morning, I had to make a decision. We were out of a couple of things - it was use some of the spilled pills or skip doses.
I threw out the entire second bag, the one from the dirtier floor. I threw out all of the pills we get in three month supplies, because it's easier to finagle spares. And I was left with 66 anti-rejection pills. $376.
I put them in the sorter.
I am a bad mom.
Okay, I know it was a tough choice, and for at least today there was absolutely no other choice. I can still go pick up the new bottles and get rid of the (potentially) dirty pills. The risk of infection is small, but if it happens it will be a big infection, y'know what I mean?
I'm really, really missing the five-second rule.
DeeDee
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Rent........
I had the privilege of watching my niece's high school production of the musical 'Rent'. I knew the general story - AIDS in the '80's, ACT UP, and the incredible losses of that era - but I had never seen it. We're watching the movie now, and honestly the high school kids nailed it, maybe more so than the movie. They were able to display an incredible range of emotion. They are too young to have any memory of the horror of those days. But I do.
As an AIDS support group in the movie sings, "Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care?" I see those who had lost all dignity in the face of suffering, whose families refused to see them for no other reason than the fact that they had AIDS.
During the scene where Angel dies, I see faces. Faces I haven't seen since 1987. Dozens of faces. The faces of those whose hands I held. Faces, eyes closing in death no matter what I did, no matter how hard we fought together for life, no matter what they were leaving behind. Flashbacks, flickering from face to face to face - so many. So, so many.
I've been a doctor for over 25 years. I lost more patients to AIDS in New York City in one year than I have lost altogether since then from everything else put together. Doctors are trained to compartmentalize. We deal with the horror of the moment, pack it tightly in a box and move on. There was one week where I signed four death certificates a day, every day; and very, very few days where there weren't any. It is rare for me to let that box open, to see those faces, to feel those feelings. But there are very, very few times in my life that I can see with such photographic clarity; hear with full theatre surround sound; smell more vividly than spring lilacs.
DeeDee
As an AIDS support group in the movie sings, "Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care?" I see those who had lost all dignity in the face of suffering, whose families refused to see them for no other reason than the fact that they had AIDS.
During the scene where Angel dies, I see faces. Faces I haven't seen since 1987. Dozens of faces. The faces of those whose hands I held. Faces, eyes closing in death no matter what I did, no matter how hard we fought together for life, no matter what they were leaving behind. Flashbacks, flickering from face to face to face - so many. So, so many.
I've been a doctor for over 25 years. I lost more patients to AIDS in New York City in one year than I have lost altogether since then from everything else put together. Doctors are trained to compartmentalize. We deal with the horror of the moment, pack it tightly in a box and move on. There was one week where I signed four death certificates a day, every day; and very, very few days where there weren't any. It is rare for me to let that box open, to see those faces, to feel those feelings. But there are very, very few times in my life that I can see with such photographic clarity; hear with full theatre surround sound; smell more vividly than spring lilacs.
DeeDee
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