Archive for the ‘stress’ Category

The Hospital Vacation

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An unexpected vacation came my way last week via a trip to the local emergency room when I experienced severe pain radiating from my shoulder down to the tips of my puffy fingers. The ER receptionist immediately had me whisked away in a wheelchair for a cardiac work-up, (not a recommended way to beat the line, but it was nice not have to wait!) The orderly swished me by all the cubicles so fast I did not have time to be nosy and glance in to see what everyone else’s commotion was about. The thing about the ER is that is houses REAL people with all their unglamorous appeal. No high heels or make-up. Unruly hair which obviously had not seen a comb in some time. Morning crustiness still in the eyes, line of drool down the side of the mouth. Bra-less, face contorted into an ugly grimace of pain, posture slumped over..and that was just ME, I could only imagine what everyone else looked like!

Once admitted to the cardiac ward, the nurses got right to work hooking me up to all kinds of do dads and thing a ma jigs. Their cheerfulness belied the seriousness of their work. I was comforted not only by their reassurance but also by the toasty, warm blanket that soon enveloped my body. Once the morphine took away the pain, I was a happy camper and willing test participant. Wheee! Off with another orderly for another test. Lay still like a sardine in a tiny metal tube while it sounded like the room was crashing all around me? Piece of cake. Electrodes super glued to my breasts? No problem, I wasn’t using them anyway. X-rays this way and that? Show me how to pose. (Those 5 modeling classes I took as a gawky teen finally came in handy!) Then there was the added adventure of being maneuvered, gurney and all, back to my room, bumping in and out of the elevators, around other patients and gurneys, and trying to fit through slim doorways all the while piloted by friendly orderlies. It was reminiscent of trying to scooter through Disney World with my daughter last May, and I tried to hide my silly smile lest the orderly think I was not in my right mind. (And, yes, the morphine was still working.)

Once back in my room, taking my blood pressure and poking and prodding for blood tests and glucose monitoring became commonplace at any time of the day or night. What an amazing staff of nurses and CNAs whose job it was to wake me only to poke me with a needle to capture my blood, and to do it all pleasantly when I felt less than pleasant for them having to do it. Although I tried not to be too crabby at them, my roommates were often less inhibited and grumbling was commonplace. Still, the staff smiled and carried on with quiet reassurance, seemingly immune to the barrage of complaints.

The most exciting thing for me was “room service”. Yes, “room service”, just like in a fancy hotel! Armed with an actual menu, I called down to the kitchen and my custom order would find its way to my bedside table. How amazing! Being a person obsessed with food, this was the highlight of my vacation. (Well, that and not being home to have to clean my house.) I carefully selected each meal; scrumptious omelet with tomatoes and onions, muffins and fruit, macaroni and cheese and broccoli with custard pudding, pot roast with salad with cake for dessert! Yum! It all sounded as good as I am sure it tasted, IF I were ever able to eat it when it arrived! Unfortunately, my food delights were delivered while I was away for one test or another. Imagine…meals being interrupted by medical procedures! What kind of vacation is that? The nurses offered to heat it up for me or to get me something else, but this seemed to be a silly request with all the important medical stuff that they had to do. When they took their jobs, I am sure that “waitress” was not in the job description.

Fortunately, it was the kind of vacation where the primary focus was my health; where what was going on INSIDE my body was more important that what I put INTO my body. With the utmost professionalism, the staff were unwaveringly pleasant, reassuring and kind. My medical care was top notch, and I was soon sent on my way home with expert instructions for the next chapter in my medical care.

Nothing could beat my hospital “vacation”. Next time I really want something as frivolous as a hot meal, I will go to a restaurant!The

Loosey Goosey with Einstein Hair

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     My body has not quite agreed with my no stress policy on life as the muscles in the back of my shoulder had started ache.  When I grit my teeth, the pain would shoot from my jaw down to my shoulder blade.) I thought this might be a good time to try a massage, something which I have always wanted but for which there was never an actual need.      

     With a Groupon coupon clutched firmly in my hand, I made my way through the front door of the Chinese spa. Chinese decorations and symbols adorned the walls, a gold and red cat with a wagging paw sat on the counter, and a petite woman in a kimono greeted me in words I could not quite understand.  With the coupon in her hand, I was reassured that she knew what I wanted; a deep tissue massage!

     Led into a small, dimly lit private room, a comfy massage table awaited me. I considered which end of the table to get on; one end had a place I later learned was for my face and the other end had a rolled towel which could loosely be construed as a pillow.  I took off my clothes, careful to leave my underwear on.  (My bra had to come off because fixing the muscle pain on my shoulder would be hindered by the strap.)  I sat in the middle of the bed, legs dangling off the side, sheet wrapped tightly around my body, awaiting the instructions the massage specialist would give me.  Another petite woman, she motioned toward the end of the table without the towel and I started to lay on my back with my head falling backwards.  She giggled a little, then motioned for me to turn over on my stomach.  OH!  So THAT’s how it works!

     It is incomprehensible to me how a woman with such tiny hands could invoke such muscle pain on me.  Every spot she touched hurt, but her delicate fingers kneaded the pain away.  It was both an excruciating and relaxing experience all at once.  When she finished with the bulk of my body, she pulled out my arm to massage.  “Reacts” she kept telling me, (which I proudly interpreted to mean “relax.”) As much as she tried to shake out my hand, my fingers remained stiffened as a board.  She giggled again, and after much coaxing on her part, my fingers finally loosened a little with the ends of them bent down into a claw shape. That was as close to relaxing my hand I was going to get!

     My favorite part was when she massaged my neck and head.  How I loved the feel of her fingers raking through my hair; firmly, therapeutically, amazingly! I knew that the oil she had on her hands would affect my hairstyle, but my mind was beyond rationalization at that point, enjoying the experience. I was disappointed when she stopped and left the room, saying something to me on the way out.  I thought the massage was over, so I stood up, naked, to get my clothes on.  Both of us screamed when she came back into the room!  She covered her mouth with one hand and squeezed her eyes shut, keeping a firm grip on the basket of hot rocks she was holding in her other hand.  “I thought it was over!” I told her as she sweetly said “no, no!” Climbing back on the table, she completed the massage with hot stones, stones so hot they seemed to burn my back through the sheet material and I wondered how she could possibly hold them in her tender, gentle hands. But, OH what a wonderful feeling, loosened muscles and warmth on my back.  It was a joyful experience! It was an experience for which I had waited my whole life!

      When she was finished, she clearly said “Bye bye” and we both giggled, knowing that it actually was time to get up and get dressed.  My limbs were floppy and lose as I awkwardly put my clothes on. I walked out of that room euphorically with a goofy smile on my face, all loosey goosey with my hair sticking out straight looking like Einstein’s.  I was so relaxed I didn’t even care!   

Did You Ever Have One of THOSE Days?

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Usually mornings are hectic; get up reluctantly, sleepily make a cup of tea, eat quickly, rummage through clothes to find a suitable outfit, and out the door I go. Yesterday was different. As I was rushing past the back door to get out, I stopped suddenly to look out the window at the pond and was mesmerized by the sight. The water was as smooth as glass, with the exception of the migrating ducks; whose criss cross swimming replicated that of precision swimmers. All were swimming in unison, zig zagging through the water leaving wakes behind them, which decorated the pond like a huge abstract painting. In all of my years, it is a wonder I never appreciated this artwork by nature before.

Stepping out into the cool October air, I drew a deep breath, savoring the crispness that filled my lungs. It was so invigorating that I walked to my car with a spring in my step and a smile of contentment on my face. Such days in October are a welcome treat after the long summer heat.

Driving to work on Route 295, my mood was elevated by the surprise of the colorful autumn trees. Although I had obviously seen them before in my rush to get to work, on this day the sight overwhelmed me, especially when driving from the shade into the bright sun, which delightfully shone down and highlighted the beauty of the yellows, oranges and reds. My heart got goose bumps as I continued to drive amidst the vibrant landscape.

Life is usually too rushed and my brain full of mingled thoughts to really appreciate my surroundings. This day was different, an almost spiritual reminder to appreciate the good things in life.

On my way home from work I impulsively stopped at the grocery store to buy some apple cider and cinnamon. Tomorrow I will have a cup of hot cider in the morning as I relax in my chair and soak in the beauty of the pond.

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Please consider purchasing my book: The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids with Disabilities and Remaining Sane on Amazon.

The Words Every Adoptive Mom Longs to Hear…

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Like most other adoptive parents, I adopted children because I, selfishly, wanted children. (My theory was if I had children to care for, I really didn’t have a lot of extra time to clean the house. I would rather care for a child than mop the floor…) An adoptive parent should never think their child who is adopted is beholden to them. The child didn’t choose to be born into their circumstances, and they certainly didn’t ask to be adopted. And I have had more than my share of emotionally unstable children, (aren’t all teenagers unstable anyway?) and never expected them to be happy about my choice to adopt them, (or at least not to express that feeling.)

But I was wrong. I went to Marie’s award ceremony at school today. Most parents didn’t go, it was during the day and I’m sure it was hard for them to get off work. It was hard for me to get off work, too, and I will have to work on the weekend to make up for it, but I went because I wanted to support Marie, who had been doing phenomenally in school. Marie didn’t know I was coming, and she was sooooooooo excited! She ran over, gave me a big, wet, on the lips kiss, and put her head on my shoulder while she hugged me tightly. She was genuinely happy to see me, (and not just because she knew I would take her out for ice cream after the ceremony.) She dragged me to all of her friends, and announced to them in American Sign Language something that made my heart stop and tears come to my eyes. She said, “This is my mom. She wasn’t my real mom when she adopted me when I was 7 years old, and at first I didn’t like her, but she made me feel safe and she gave me food and clothes. Now I love her very much and she is my real mom because now I have a happy life and I know I will have a happy future. And someday I will have babies and make her a grandmother!” I am her mom, indeed!

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To read about our traumatic early years together, please purchase my book, The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids with Disabilities and Remaining Sane on Amazon.

Got My Hand Caught in the Cookie Jar

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As a busy mom, improvising is a way of life.

Have YOU ever used:

Aluminum foil as a scrubber when your cast iron pan is real dirty?

A hair dryer to warm the bent frame of your glasses so you can bend it back into position?

Butter to remove your wedding ring? OR to put on chapped lips?

A plastic fork to substitute for a hair pick?

Eyeliner as a pen?

Socks as mittens?

A bathing suit bottom to substitute for underwear?

52 pieces of paper, with appropriate hand drawn markings, to replicate a deck of cards?

Guilty of all of above. My biggest new “substitution” happened the other evening. Being on an everlasting diet, I try not to keep chocolate and candy in the house. After a hectic day, an overwhelming chocolate craving overcame me. Frantically searching the house for one last piece of Easter candy, (or even a Halloween candy that had fallen behind the seat cushions,) my search came up empty. Desperate, I expanded my search, standing on a kitchen chair to look high into the cupboards. AND THERE IT WAS!!!! Hiding behind the flour and the spices sat the jar hubby proudly used to make chocolate covered strawberries. CHOCOLATE!!!! So there I sat, on the kitchen floor, sticking my finger into the jar of chocolate and licking it off with great satisfaction. Sometimes, you just have to improvise!

I’ve Never Been So Happy to be Sick!!!!

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Just like everyone else’s, my life sucks from time to time! This past month has been one catastrophe after another. Marie, my daughter who is deaf, had again been hospitalized due to a dangerous PTSD episode. When in a dissociative state, she downed staples in an effort to kill herself. Ever the optimist, I was hoping against hope that her memories of severe abuse would begin to soften, maybe even heal. Alas, not yet…this will be a lifelong battle.

My son Angel, who had just begun to drive, was involved in a rear end collision. While slowing down for a red light, KAPOWEE! another car hit him in the rear, pushing him into the truck in front of him. He was briefly hospitalized for whiplash, but the emotional impact was even worse. Sleeping is a luxury he no longer enjoys; wild fears and thoughts flood his already befuddled mind. He has stopped doing the things he used to do, clearly depressed that his means of freedom no longer sits in the driveway. Through no fault of his own, his major pride and joy, his ability to drive around and help others all day, has been destroyed. The car, safe and well running, was bought new in 2008. The insurance company only paid the Blue Book value of $4200. Because we do not have additional financial means, trying to find a car for such a small amount of money has been a real challenge, and every day that goes by without a car for Angel pushes him further and further into depression.

Marie’s recent birthday party was ruined when Steven “acted up”…having a full fledge outburst. (He has a severe sensory deficit with which he can not tolerate crowds or things not in his regular schedule. I should have had the foresight to arrange for him to be elsewhere.) Steven punched a hole in the wall and swore obscene obscene obscenities, (I know most obscene obscenities, but he came up with a few that were even more hard core.) As he stormed off down the street to settle himself down, the damage had already been done. Mortified at this behavior that most of our guests had never seen, everyone left, making a bee line for their cars, children in tow. Marie, who in her deafness had not heard the commotion, had been fishing on the dock behind our house. When she turned around, everyone was gone! She was quizzical at first, but not being a real “people person”, she took it in stride, especially because everyone had left their gifts for her!

My own work has been more difficult. The agency has hired a public relations person, and suddenly referrals have been flooding in. With an exponentially increased workload, putting in 50 hours a week has not been uncommon. What HAS been uncommon is the wrenching ache that developed in the pit of my stomach. Food would spew out of my stomach a half hour after I’d eaten. I felt awful, but I trekked on, saltine crackers and ginger ale bottle in tow. All my life, stress did not bother me. I could handle anything! No problem! Que sera sera! A little stress was not going to deter me from my job duties! (Like a mailman, neither ran, nor snow nor dark of night would keep me from my mission.) But as the stomach ache dragged on, my enthusiasm waned. I actually became depressed! My life, as I knew it, was over… or so I thought…..

After two weeks of eating nothing but chicken rice soup and saltines, I dragged my depressed little body to the walk in clinic. Taking one look at me, they sent me to the hospital emergency room where an intravenous was started to alleviate my dehydration. Laying there, I watched several bags of liquid force fed into the little vein in my hand. They did many tests, some to which I may have objected but I was too weak to stand my ground. Lo and behold, I was really sick! It wasn’t stress! It was salmonella poisoning from an egg breakfast at a local diner two weeks previously! Although I lay there on the gurney still feeling ill, happiness filled my heart. I was sick, not stressed! Life would return to “normal”, including all of the small tragedies and heartbreaks and problems associated with having five children with disabilities. But I could handle it! Life would go on!

I Had a Really Long Day Today…

I LOVE to be busy. I would much rather be “on the go” than have time to watch tv or work on my blog. Today was one of those days packed with appointments working with children: three home visits, a meeting with a school department, two evaluations to complete, not to mention traveling all around the state to do so!
When I finally finished work, around 6:30 pm, I still had a church council meeting to attend. Needing a “pick me up”, I drove to the nearest Dunkin Donuts to get a nice, caffeinated, cup of tea. Putting my window down so I could hear the server, my head rested in my hand as I took several long deep breaths, trying to reinvigorate myself. The car behind me beeped, bringing me back to the real world. Gee!! It WAS taking quite a while for the server to take my order.

I looked out of my window and noticed I had pulled up in front of the trash can to place my order…no wonder I was met by silence!

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