This has been a wonderful Christmas, but it has taken a tragic turn. One of Rebecca's classmates was in a bad accident a couple of days before Christmas. We actually, unknowingly, drove by the scene while doing some last minute shopping. I knew it was bad when we saw it. The little boy, Nicholas, died on Christmas night. He was seven years old. Rebecca is handling this very well. I am not so much. As I wrote in an email to her teacher, "She doesn't know what it is like to love a child, as she is just a child herself." She has decided to attend the funeral tomorrow morning. I am asking that you all pray for her, me, and especially the Sims' family. His sister was also injured, but has returned home. I cannot imagine their grief.
I will post the more cheerful portions of our holidays in the near future, but in the meantime, say a little prayer for me.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Count your many blessings, name them one by
ONE.
I have many blessings, which I could literally spend all day documenting, but today I will list only one:
I am grateful to be here.
Happy Thanksgiving!
I have many blessings, which I could literally spend all day documenting, but today I will list only one:
I am grateful to be here.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Speaking Of Jack O'Lanterns...
Meet Logan Lantern!
I really meant to post this about a month ago...on Halloween to be exact. Cute, though. He lost one of those teeth about a week before Halloween. The other one is about a month prior. The one on the top is just a gigantic gap that he has been blessed to inherit from me. Cute boy.
Speaking of lanterns, (I had to segway somehow, didn't I?) the family went to the annual Winterberry Lantern Walk with Rebecca's school last Friday. I have no pictures because I didn't take my camera. Besides, it was dark. We all met at Goose Lake, where all the school children got their lanterns they made in school (They even use real fire. Cool.) and walked around lantern-lit trails singing songs like, "This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine!" In Rebecca's words there are, "seriously a million verses to that song." I sang her the one about "Jesus is my light, so I'm going to let it shine," but she said they didn't learn one. I knew this, of course, I just had to prove that I know more than she does. (I know, I'm an awesome mom!) Anway, the walk was COLD. it was 6 degrees in town, and probably about 60 below at the lake. They had a big bonfire and sang more songs. Yes, there was hand holding and dancing involved. It's Winterberry, what do you expect? Then we ate some cookies, had some HOT apple cider and went home. Very cool.
I really meant to post this about a month ago...on Halloween to be exact. Cute, though. He lost one of those teeth about a week before Halloween. The other one is about a month prior. The one on the top is just a gigantic gap that he has been blessed to inherit from me. Cute boy.
Speaking of lanterns, (I had to segway somehow, didn't I?) the family went to the annual Winterberry Lantern Walk with Rebecca's school last Friday. I have no pictures because I didn't take my camera. Besides, it was dark. We all met at Goose Lake, where all the school children got their lanterns they made in school (They even use real fire. Cool.) and walked around lantern-lit trails singing songs like, "This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine!" In Rebecca's words there are, "seriously a million verses to that song." I sang her the one about "Jesus is my light, so I'm going to let it shine," but she said they didn't learn one. I knew this, of course, I just had to prove that I know more than she does. (I know, I'm an awesome mom!) Anway, the walk was COLD. it was 6 degrees in town, and probably about 60 below at the lake. They had a big bonfire and sang more songs. Yes, there was hand holding and dancing involved. It's Winterberry, what do you expect? Then we ate some cookies, had some HOT apple cider and went home. Very cool.
Happy, Happy, Birthday, Halibut!
October 30 was Elle Halibut's birthday. (I know, I'm behind!) It was fun. I made her this cake, using modeling chocolate instead of fondant because fondant is GRODY! (Is that how you spell it?) This cake was delicious. It was a pomegranate/white chocolate layer cake with berry filling. (It's all about the cake...) I made the same flavor/colors for Lily's friend Mia's b-day cake the week before. It was a swimming party and I made a large, very tall (for me) whale cake. It was cute, but we were in a rush so I didn't get a picture. Oh, well.
Danitra, Robert, Easton, and Cadance came, but I didn't get their picture. Oops. Man, I'm striking out in the picture department lately! We had a nice meal; Dale made Grandpa Hansen's famous roast beef and Grandma Hansen's even more famous rolls (without sitting on them...phew!) in my soon-to-be worn out brand-new Bosch mixer. (I love all the things listed in this paragraph. Especially Danitra, as she doubles as my housekeeper. Yay for Danitra!)
The present she's about to "open" is an adorable crocodile xylophone, exactly like the one that Sarah and Rebecca had ages ago in Aggie Village. She was banging on the paper and playing the keys through the paper. She loved it! Then we made her open it, and was she mad! Now she loves, it though, so all's well that ends well, right?
The obligatory messy one-year old cake face. It would have been a cuter/messier picture except...
Lily just had to help her eat it neatly! Way to ruin the moment, Lily. Oh, I mean, way to be a big helper! (Is that a more appropriate mom statement?)
Anyway, Happy birthday, girl. To the land of no bottles, talking, and walking for you! Your baby days are OVER! How depressing. For me, not her. sigh.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Some Sweet Halloween Costumes...
...and the reason I haven't posted in over a month!
Originally, the plan was to BUY Halloween costumes this year, as I was just run over by a car and bending over a sewing machine did not seem like a good plan. So I bought a couple of really cute costumes for Lily and the baby at Old Navy. But then Sarah needed something to hold her diabetes pump onto her belt, so I made her a pump pouch out of duct tape. It was adorable. Adorable enought that I decided to make larger bags (messenger bag size) for the girls, and a second pump pouch for Sarah. In the meantime, I was hanging around Wal-Mart and Fred Meyers trying to make myself spend $20 on a cheap costume with raveling edges made in China. I couldn't do it. I tried. Really, I even had a witch costume in the cart. Then I though I was going to throw up, so I put it back.
Then I remembered the cutest Halloween costume I have ever made: A felt watermelon costume for Sarah. It was so cute I did it again for Lily last year (year before? All I know is she was Scary! Dracula teeth and all....) Anyway, this year some of the kids decided to be fruit, so I made a very cute watermelon costume out of duct tape for Lily(yes, I know I already bought her one. Anyone need a pink poodle costume, slightly used, size 4, cheap? Or a partial watermelon, size 4, cheap? Or a skunk costume, size 9 months, cheap?) and then I had a better idea. (We did put the watermelon to good use, though...)
My favorite thing in the world...CANDY!! Better yet, my kids dressed up as candy to get candy!
Okay, side by side comparision, starting with the first one I did, Logan. He wanted something very colorful, so I talked him into LifeSavers. (My kids have limited voice in their Halloween costumes, and I exercise my veto power liberally. This is hands down my favorite day of the year, so I live vicarously through them every October!) Anyway...Isn't this an awesome look? He keeps running around the house telling people he's going to eat them up before they can eat him. Sarah said he should call himself a "LifeTaker" instead of "LifeSaver. Very witty, Sarah! Oh, and don't worry. I'm not going to let him go out trick 'r treating in his bare feet. It's only 15 degrees outside! 
Yes, I know that Strawberry Pop Rocks are technically red, but we thought pink was more her color. Besides, it'll glow in black light in these colors. (If you have any questions about what does or does not glow--I know redundant-- in black lighting, just ask me. I did an insane amount of research on the topic before a YM/YW activity last Wednesday, the other reason I have been missing online!) This one took the longest to do. Yes, she's diabetic and dressed up in a candy costume. Her only complaint? "I wish you could have put the carb count on the back!" Yeah, like I'm going to make a Nutritional Label for her Halloween costume! (Actually, I was going to, but I had to hustle to finish the costume before Trick or Treat Town. Dale is grateful!) This costume looks even better flat. I wish I would have made it slightly smaller, but she wanted it BIG! Next year...
I don't think a side-by-side is required for this one. She still wants to be scary, though. She does have a white and red striped shirt to wear with it, but didn't put it on for the photo. She will be wearing snow pants on Oct. 31, so don't worry about her legs freezing off! Bonus: This costume can be worn again at the ward Christmas party!
This one is cute, but not my fav. (Fast and easy, though!) The line between the colors are just too harsh and perfect, know what I mean? Rebecca loves it, though. I'm glad I insisted that she be candy corn and not Indian corn. I told her if she had a twin I would've let her but Indian corn just isn't traditional enough. She's going to a party on Halloween with a school friend, and she's excited to be something "different".
And last, but not least, my littlest kid...the Hershey Kiss. I was a Hershey Kiss once, when I was about 8. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as silver duct tape back then, and I insisted it be shaped like a kiss, not a flat version. My poor mother. She was a good sport. Now I have to say, "My poor kids. They're such good sports. Mom won't let them be something 'normal', like Hannah Montana, or a witch, or a fireman, or a pink poodle or a skunk. Boo!"
Commonly asked questions asked by people wearing "normal" costumes at Trick or Treat Town: (I LIVE for these...)
1. Did you make those costumes? (imagine me pretending not to hear while my husband brags that his amazing wife made them.)
2. Is that duct tape? (Yes. Each costume is 100% duct tape. Nothing else. Zilch. Oh, except a tad of Velcro, which didn't work on Logan's costume anyway. I ended up closing it with...Duct tape.)
3. Can I take your kid's picture? (Most notably from the channel 2 news guy who had already started packing up his gear when we walked by. Too bad he liked Logan's the best. Not the best interviewee in the world. Still, it was fun. I don't know if he was actually ON the news, because I forgot to record it on the DVR yesterday. What a slacker mom I turned out to be!)
4. Do you make costumes out of duct tape every year? (This was my first year for duct tape, but I had so much fun we may do a repeat next year. On the duct tape, not the costumes. I NEVER re-do--even if I've been run over--except on watermelon. Why is that, I wonder. Hmm. Of course I've re-made it everytime it's been worn, so is that actually a repeat? Probably. I am such a nerd...)
5. How long did these take you? (Not as long as you think, if you don't count the times I messed up on the LifeSavers and PopRocks costumes. The longest was Pop Rocks. It took about 6-8 hours, I'd guess. The shortest was Elliotte's Kiss at about 30 minutes, no kidding. I know because it was the last one I did and we were LATE for the Trick or Treat town. What a surprise. At least this year we had an event a week early so that I'm all ready to go for next Friday. Hey! Maybe I have time to make a costume for Dale and myself! I'm thinking a tube of toothpaste and an insulin pump, what else!)
I had little interest in the beauty of duct tape and then I got run over by a car.
I am truly blessed.
Originally, the plan was to BUY Halloween costumes this year, as I was just run over by a car and bending over a sewing machine did not seem like a good plan. So I bought a couple of really cute costumes for Lily and the baby at Old Navy. But then Sarah needed something to hold her diabetes pump onto her belt, so I made her a pump pouch out of duct tape. It was adorable. Adorable enought that I decided to make larger bags (messenger bag size) for the girls, and a second pump pouch for Sarah. In the meantime, I was hanging around Wal-Mart and Fred Meyers trying to make myself spend $20 on a cheap costume with raveling edges made in China. I couldn't do it. I tried. Really, I even had a witch costume in the cart. Then I though I was going to throw up, so I put it back.Then I remembered the cutest Halloween costume I have ever made: A felt watermelon costume for Sarah. It was so cute I did it again for Lily last year (year before? All I know is she was Scary! Dracula teeth and all....) Anyway, this year some of the kids decided to be fruit, so I made a very cute watermelon costume out of duct tape for Lily(yes, I know I already bought her one. Anyone need a pink poodle costume, slightly used, size 4, cheap? Or a partial watermelon, size 4, cheap? Or a skunk costume, size 9 months, cheap?) and then I had a better idea. (We did put the watermelon to good use, though...)
My favorite thing in the world...CANDY!! Better yet, my kids dressed up as candy to get candy!
Yes, I know that Strawberry Pop Rocks are technically red, but we thought pink was more her color. Besides, it'll glow in black light in these colors. (If you have any questions about what does or does not glow--I know redundant-- in black lighting, just ask me. I did an insane amount of research on the topic before a YM/YW activity last Wednesday, the other reason I have been missing online!) This one took the longest to do. Yes, she's diabetic and dressed up in a candy costume. Her only complaint? "I wish you could have put the carb count on the back!" Yeah, like I'm going to make a Nutritional Label for her Halloween costume! (Actually, I was going to, but I had to hustle to finish the costume before Trick or Treat Town. Dale is grateful!) This costume looks even better flat. I wish I would have made it slightly smaller, but she wanted it BIG! Next year...
I don't think a side-by-side is required for this one. She still wants to be scary, though. She does have a white and red striped shirt to wear with it, but didn't put it on for the photo. She will be wearing snow pants on Oct. 31, so don't worry about her legs freezing off! Bonus: This costume can be worn again at the ward Christmas party!
This one is cute, but not my fav. (Fast and easy, though!) The line between the colors are just too harsh and perfect, know what I mean? Rebecca loves it, though. I'm glad I insisted that she be candy corn and not Indian corn. I told her if she had a twin I would've let her but Indian corn just isn't traditional enough. She's going to a party on Halloween with a school friend, and she's excited to be something "different".
And last, but not least, my littlest kid...the Hershey Kiss. I was a Hershey Kiss once, when I was about 8. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as silver duct tape back then, and I insisted it be shaped like a kiss, not a flat version. My poor mother. She was a good sport. Now I have to say, "My poor kids. They're such good sports. Mom won't let them be something 'normal', like Hannah Montana, or a witch, or a fireman, or a pink poodle or a skunk. Boo!"
Commonly asked questions asked by people wearing "normal" costumes at Trick or Treat Town: (I LIVE for these...)
1. Did you make those costumes? (imagine me pretending not to hear while my husband brags that his amazing wife made them.)
2. Is that duct tape? (Yes. Each costume is 100% duct tape. Nothing else. Zilch. Oh, except a tad of Velcro, which didn't work on Logan's costume anyway. I ended up closing it with...Duct tape.)
3. Can I take your kid's picture? (Most notably from the channel 2 news guy who had already started packing up his gear when we walked by. Too bad he liked Logan's the best. Not the best interviewee in the world. Still, it was fun. I don't know if he was actually ON the news, because I forgot to record it on the DVR yesterday. What a slacker mom I turned out to be!)
4. Do you make costumes out of duct tape every year? (This was my first year for duct tape, but I had so much fun we may do a repeat next year. On the duct tape, not the costumes. I NEVER re-do--even if I've been run over--except on watermelon. Why is that, I wonder. Hmm. Of course I've re-made it everytime it's been worn, so is that actually a repeat? Probably. I am such a nerd...)
5. How long did these take you? (Not as long as you think, if you don't count the times I messed up on the LifeSavers and PopRocks costumes. The longest was Pop Rocks. It took about 6-8 hours, I'd guess. The shortest was Elliotte's Kiss at about 30 minutes, no kidding. I know because it was the last one I did and we were LATE for the Trick or Treat town. What a surprise. At least this year we had an event a week early so that I'm all ready to go for next Friday. Hey! Maybe I have time to make a costume for Dale and myself! I'm thinking a tube of toothpaste and an insulin pump, what else!)
I had little interest in the beauty of duct tape and then I got run over by a car.
I am truly blessed.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Of Psychological Damage and Repair
Bicycle repair, that is.
Today was a big day. Dale rode his newly repaired bicycle to work today! Yes, the same bike I was riding when my helmet got cracked like the shell on a hard boiled egg. (I get to go to Logan and Sarah's health classes this week and talk about the accident. I'm seriously considering an object lesson involving eggs and one of Logan's Chevron cars...Stay posted for pics and how it went!) Dale was beyond ready to start riding again; I was more on the worry-wart-wife side, which is not really like me, normally. However, as much as I would like to forbid him from ever riding again, I settled with making him take out a life insurance policy and double checking his safety gear like he's in kindergarten or something. He kept the eye-rolling to a minimum out of respect for my manic ways. (How noble of him!)
He rode hard, staying off the main roads as much as practical, and reported when he made his mandatory "I-made-it-safely" call that he is completely out of shape. He'll get there fast, though. As far as me being okay with this? I have to admit it wasn't as hard as I thought, although I must confess it was in the back of my head the whole time.
I was driving my kids to school this morning, just hopin' and praying Dale didn't get run over by a car.
Today was a big day. Dale rode his newly repaired bicycle to work today! Yes, the same bike I was riding when my helmet got cracked like the shell on a hard boiled egg. (I get to go to Logan and Sarah's health classes this week and talk about the accident. I'm seriously considering an object lesson involving eggs and one of Logan's Chevron cars...Stay posted for pics and how it went!) Dale was beyond ready to start riding again; I was more on the worry-wart-wife side, which is not really like me, normally. However, as much as I would like to forbid him from ever riding again, I settled with making him take out a life insurance policy and double checking his safety gear like he's in kindergarten or something. He kept the eye-rolling to a minimum out of respect for my manic ways. (How noble of him!)
He rode hard, staying off the main roads as much as practical, and reported when he made his mandatory "I-made-it-safely" call that he is completely out of shape. He'll get there fast, though. As far as me being okay with this? I have to admit it wasn't as hard as I thought, although I must confess it was in the back of my head the whole time.
I was driving my kids to school this morning, just hopin' and praying Dale didn't get run over by a car.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Of Pain, Impatience, and Frustration
I figured it was time for an update on my post-being-run-over-by-a-car saga. (This story starts on July 22--see archives if you're behind and work your way up.) I am currently working on getting all the way better, which is a huge PAIN! (Literally. In my shoulders, specifically.) I am attending physical therapy twice a week to try and alleviate my daily pain, but now its a matter of patience. Obviously, I can't expect that after a few session my range of motion will be back, my posture fixed (my shoulders have rolled forward to compensate for my sternum/ribs injuries) and a miraculous ability to get back to caring for my baby and toddler 100%, but that doesn't have to mean I like it!
I'm getting tired of it. I'm doing more than I should. What choice to I have, really? It is so frustrating to stop at Fred Meyer to get groceries and have to psych myself up to lift the baby from the van to a shopping cart. She must be getting heavier, because this is getting harder every time I have to do it. Either that or I'm getting worse. Who knows. I've been able to lift her SOME in the last few days, but imagine my aggravation that I am not able to hold her in my chair without an adult in the room, because she's too wiggly and she tries to jump out of my arms. While I can hold her to feed her, or if she's being still (which are not always at the same time!) I can't get out of my chair while holding her. Thank goodness Danitra is cleaning my house, or poor Dale would be completely over-loaded. He already is. He does 100% of the cooking, laundry, baby-carrying (while home), getting kids off to school, (although I can drive now, I don't make lunches or "crack the whip" to get them out the door) driving me to therapy (I'm too sore afterwards to drive) etc. etc. etc. He's working about half time; thank goodness for dividends and the FMLA, or we'd be sunk. After school I pick up the kids (it doesn't require me to carry the baby. I just have to sit there and wait for them to get their little behinds in the van. Then I have to pysch myself up to carry the baby to the family room, have one of the girls change her diaper while I down another couple of Tylenol, and watch her crawl around the floor until it's time to get Dale. Then I have to psych myself up to put her back in the car, corral all the kids, and go pick up Dale, knowing that it will all spell P-A-I-N in the end! I hate it. Yes, my Mom told me that "hate" is a very strong word, and I thouroughly agree!
No wonder I come home and collapse in my chair. Without the baby. Man, it's hard to feel like a Mom right now, when I cannot physically care for my kids. Do you have any idea what it's like to not be able to hug your children? I shake my four year old's hand every night before bed. She won't' go to sleep without her "hand squeeze". Puh-thetic.
The kids are being troopers, though, and so is Dale. Danitra is a huge help. I'll make it...eventually. The PT is going to help, I can tell. It's just going to take TIME.
I was reveling in the fact that I am a Therapy Mom, not a Mom who needs therapy (physical, anyway) when I got run over by a car.
I'm getting tired of it. I'm doing more than I should. What choice to I have, really? It is so frustrating to stop at Fred Meyer to get groceries and have to psych myself up to lift the baby from the van to a shopping cart. She must be getting heavier, because this is getting harder every time I have to do it. Either that or I'm getting worse. Who knows. I've been able to lift her SOME in the last few days, but imagine my aggravation that I am not able to hold her in my chair without an adult in the room, because she's too wiggly and she tries to jump out of my arms. While I can hold her to feed her, or if she's being still (which are not always at the same time!) I can't get out of my chair while holding her. Thank goodness Danitra is cleaning my house, or poor Dale would be completely over-loaded. He already is. He does 100% of the cooking, laundry, baby-carrying (while home), getting kids off to school, (although I can drive now, I don't make lunches or "crack the whip" to get them out the door) driving me to therapy (I'm too sore afterwards to drive) etc. etc. etc. He's working about half time; thank goodness for dividends and the FMLA, or we'd be sunk. After school I pick up the kids (it doesn't require me to carry the baby. I just have to sit there and wait for them to get their little behinds in the van. Then I have to pysch myself up to carry the baby to the family room, have one of the girls change her diaper while I down another couple of Tylenol, and watch her crawl around the floor until it's time to get Dale. Then I have to psych myself up to put her back in the car, corral all the kids, and go pick up Dale, knowing that it will all spell P-A-I-N in the end! I hate it. Yes, my Mom told me that "hate" is a very strong word, and I thouroughly agree!
No wonder I come home and collapse in my chair. Without the baby. Man, it's hard to feel like a Mom right now, when I cannot physically care for my kids. Do you have any idea what it's like to not be able to hug your children? I shake my four year old's hand every night before bed. She won't' go to sleep without her "hand squeeze". Puh-thetic.
The kids are being troopers, though, and so is Dale. Danitra is a huge help. I'll make it...eventually. The PT is going to help, I can tell. It's just going to take TIME.
I was reveling in the fact that I am a Therapy Mom, not a Mom who needs therapy (physical, anyway) when I got run over by a car.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Nostalgic Photos of the week:
Just a couple of pictures of past trips to Whittier, Seward, the inlet, and Girdwood. We love you, President, Sister, and Elder! Wish you were with us, and yet so glad you're not! :)
Whittier Alaska, 2005
Pre-Elliotte, Seward Alaksa, 2006
Grandma and Lily on Captian Hooks Boat the next day. (we really love boats in our family!)
Uncle Tyler and Fam, Girdwood Alaska
(possibly the best drive of our lives! I miss that red truck...)
Logan is SO little compared to the inlet!
Both boys needed a haircut.
Logan refused to get one in those days, and Ty was partial to his sister's cutting skills!
Pre-Boat ride, Pre-Mission (but on the way!) Seward Alaska
Aboard yet another cruise on Cap'n Hooks' boat.
While it may be a family favorite, Lily didn't agree!
Oh, and yes, I'm expecting in this picture.
Whittier Alaska, 2005
Pre-Elliotte, Seward Alaksa, 2006
Grandma and Lily on Captian Hooks Boat the next day. (we really love boats in our family!)
Uncle Tyler and Fam, Girdwood Alaska(possibly the best drive of our lives! I miss that red truck...)
Logan is SO little compared to the inlet!
Both boys needed a haircut.Logan refused to get one in those days, and Ty was partial to his sister's cutting skills!
Pre-Boat ride, Pre-Mission (but on the way!) Seward Alaska
Aboard yet another cruise on Cap'n Hooks' boat.While it may be a family favorite, Lily didn't agree!
Oh, and yes, I'm expecting in this picture.
Happy Birthday, Boy!
We went to the Sea Life Center, and thought about all our missionaries...a lot. We've had some good times there with Gma and Gpa and Uncle Tyler. When we told the kids we wanted to go to Seward, Logan asked if we were going to take a boat ride. Alas, a boat ride wasn't in the plan, but a trip to the Sea Life Center was! I have a million pictures of all my kids there, but here's a few more, including some of Elle (first time caring even a little bit being there!)
The obligatory pictures with the congenial harbor seals
And more.
Couldn't keep Sarah away from them!
Or Rebecca.
Logan, however couldn't be bothered long...
...he just wanted to play with the wooden boat the whole time!
Dinner, anyone? Too bad Logan insisted on...
...Red Robin instead of Chair 5 Pizza!This is what he did the entire time the crew was singing, "Happy Birthday". Oh, well. I didn't make him a cake (my arms don't work; don't judge!) so have at it, kid! He insisted on Christmas wrapping paper and LOVED his presents. Think he likes Webkinz? He asked for, and recieved, two lil' Kinz lioness Webkinz so that his boy lion (Wily) and lioness (Cheezy) could have babies. They are married, by the way. It was a lovely ceremony. (He's got four sisters! It was the wedding of the century!)
Happy Birthday, Boy! You're da Man!"I want to be Mis-Matched!"
For the record, I made her hold her second matching shoe to prove that she CHOSE this for herself! She actually searched for a non-matching sandal. Notice she has two left feet, literally. Comfy. Yes, she also chose to mis-match her socks and put her pants on backwards. What's up, Kriss Kross?
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Sarah Palin
I feel obligated, as part of the 80% approval rating of our beloved Govenor, to say congratulations to Sarah Palin on her nomination to the Vice Presidential office. I could drone on for hours about why I like her, but I'll spare you the agony. Just know the following, from personal experience:
1. She is the real deal.
2. She is Smart!
3. She knows a lot about key issues: Energy, Economics, Ethics
4. She is Pro-Life and Pro-Family
5. She has to deal with a totally diversified state full of radical (yet uber conservative) independent Alaskans, with a wider demographic then most people assume. She governs the largest land-mass state in the union, which really could be divided into five very large states. Bush districts (tiny villages, some of which have no indoor plumbing), Fairbanks area, South Central (including Wassilla and Anchorage), Kenai Penisula, (AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL!) and South East (including Juneau.) All of these areas have their own views, and yet she has 80%, and has been as high as 90%, approval rating. That's impressive, trust me.
6. 20% dissaprove of her. Besides my liberal neighbors in Anchorage (which there are a few), the remaining 18% think she's not conservative enough. Welcome to Alaska.
7. She is very personal. My hubby and his bro met her at a fundraiser in our neighborhood when she was running for govenor. My friend had an issue with her teaching contract, and within 2 days she received an email back from her.
8. Many conservative and republican geniouses (I'm talking to you, Jane) thought she would be the best choice without knowing she was even on the short list.
9. She is a great politician. Check out our local KTUU news to hear her amazing speech and see her biography. There is also a fun piece about her parents finding out about it while they were supposed to be caribou hunting.
Shoot. I guess I did start to babble on. Oh, well. I just love my govenor, and think you should know it!
Bummer.
I just have to say that this world is so depressing sometimes. I just read a friend's blog who had a link to mine, only she mispelled it by accident. Turns out that if you enter in my blog address wrong you get to an anti-christian blog with 1 post (from 2006) and about a hundred really bad (and uncreative, I might add) words and even worse philosophies. Thanks for ruining my cool blog name, idiot blog author. Oh, well. If any of you have accidentally typed in my blog address incorrectly, I apologize. For the record, I believe in Jesus Christ.
If you're ever run over by a car...
...or must stay in the hospital for more than two days, read this!
It would be a shame if I didn't pass on some of the things I learned about staying in the hospital. I was in the ICU for three days, and in the hospital for a total of one week. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it is plenty long enough for me to know the following:
First, if showering isn't an option, you're going to be pretty miserable. Sponge baths just really don't cut it, especially since nurses (I loved most of them, by the way. Especially my ICU nurse Sarah. She was part of an agency that goes around the country and works wherever there is a position open. It's a great way to travel, and they covered her housing. Doesn't that sound like a great job for a single, cute, young, girl? I would definitely look into that if I was single, cute, or young. The other great nurse was named Jessica. She was awesome.) are limited to the supplies provided by the hospital. Nasty greasy lotion. Gross, smelly, drying soap. Rough washcloths designed for deep exfoliation. And what is the obsession with baby powder? I guess I'm just a sweater (as in, "one who sweats", not as in "an article of clothing worn during chilly weather, often made of wool or synthetic fibers") so I really didn't need the paste that forms from that nonsense. Seriously, it's gross. So tell your nurse "no" on the baby powder in advance, and have your husband bring in your favorite body wash and a soft cloth so you don't turn into an itching, sweating, *irritated mess.
Which brings me to two of the best things that you could ever bring a friend who is in the hospital. I received both from very special people. The first came from my sister's mother-in-law who lives here in town sometimes and Egypt others. Her name is Linda, and she just lost her young grandson to brain cancer. It was difficult for her to come visit me in the hospital. I was grateful that she came. She brought a nice card, and even better, a tube of chap stick. (It was actually "Moose-stick", but you get the idea. It was really cute and a nice product!) It was a very thoughtful gift, as I couldn't have flowers in the ICU, and who wants to keep slathering on the generic petroleum jelly?
The second was from my friend, Katie. She has spent MORE than her fair share in the hospital. She was there for MONTHS with her last baby, so she knows the routine, how to deal with cranky nurses (I was pretty lucky that way, although I have to admit I wasn't fond of my night nurse in the ICU. That's only because she kept making me rotate of my back and sleep slightly on my side, which was killer on the ribs and shoulders. More on shoulders in the next post.), uncomfortable positioning, trouble sleeping, bad soap, you name it. She also was fully aware that I have the world's most sensitive skin (She also has said sensitive skin), and on the spur of the moment came through with a travel sized tube of Lubriderm out of her purse. Hallelujah! My body just sucked it in, and finally there was no greasy feel or horrible stench. (Well, not from the lotion. I'm sure I was emmitting a fairly foul odor by that time...) So if you are out of ideas for a friend in the hospital, I recommend Chap Stick and Lubriderm.
Another great gift I got was from one of the young women at church. Kaylin made me a pillow that had DUCKY FLEECE on it! It was great, because it was the right size and firmness to rest my arms on. I'm still using it. A lap pillow is a great gift for someone in the hospital.
The other important thing I learned was that they do offer linens with no bleach. I thought that sitting in a bed itching and raw was just a side effect of medication (which it partially is), but my new bnf (best nurse friend) Sarah offered the no-bleach. I said fine, not thinking it would really matter, but HOLY COW!! It made a huge difference. They must use about 3 1/2 cups of bleach per medium sized load, because the non-bleachy sheets were....I'm not lying...soft. Can you believe it? So, just remember, if you need to lay in a hospital bed, ask for the no bleach package. It's worth the trouble.
These things may seem trivial, but trust me. When dealing with that sort of pain, the last thing you need is to feel like your skin is going to fall off!
I was sweating up a storm on my bike and then I got run over by a car.
*refers to both skin and temperment
It would be a shame if I didn't pass on some of the things I learned about staying in the hospital. I was in the ICU for three days, and in the hospital for a total of one week. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it is plenty long enough for me to know the following:
First, if showering isn't an option, you're going to be pretty miserable. Sponge baths just really don't cut it, especially since nurses (I loved most of them, by the way. Especially my ICU nurse Sarah. She was part of an agency that goes around the country and works wherever there is a position open. It's a great way to travel, and they covered her housing. Doesn't that sound like a great job for a single, cute, young, girl? I would definitely look into that if I was single, cute, or young. The other great nurse was named Jessica. She was awesome.) are limited to the supplies provided by the hospital. Nasty greasy lotion. Gross, smelly, drying soap. Rough washcloths designed for deep exfoliation. And what is the obsession with baby powder? I guess I'm just a sweater (as in, "one who sweats", not as in "an article of clothing worn during chilly weather, often made of wool or synthetic fibers") so I really didn't need the paste that forms from that nonsense. Seriously, it's gross. So tell your nurse "no" on the baby powder in advance, and have your husband bring in your favorite body wash and a soft cloth so you don't turn into an itching, sweating, *irritated mess.
Which brings me to two of the best things that you could ever bring a friend who is in the hospital. I received both from very special people. The first came from my sister's mother-in-law who lives here in town sometimes and Egypt others. Her name is Linda, and she just lost her young grandson to brain cancer. It was difficult for her to come visit me in the hospital. I was grateful that she came. She brought a nice card, and even better, a tube of chap stick. (It was actually "Moose-stick", but you get the idea. It was really cute and a nice product!) It was a very thoughtful gift, as I couldn't have flowers in the ICU, and who wants to keep slathering on the generic petroleum jelly?
The second was from my friend, Katie. She has spent MORE than her fair share in the hospital. She was there for MONTHS with her last baby, so she knows the routine, how to deal with cranky nurses (I was pretty lucky that way, although I have to admit I wasn't fond of my night nurse in the ICU. That's only because she kept making me rotate of my back and sleep slightly on my side, which was killer on the ribs and shoulders. More on shoulders in the next post.), uncomfortable positioning, trouble sleeping, bad soap, you name it. She also was fully aware that I have the world's most sensitive skin (She also has said sensitive skin), and on the spur of the moment came through with a travel sized tube of Lubriderm out of her purse. Hallelujah! My body just sucked it in, and finally there was no greasy feel or horrible stench. (Well, not from the lotion. I'm sure I was emmitting a fairly foul odor by that time...) So if you are out of ideas for a friend in the hospital, I recommend Chap Stick and Lubriderm.
Another great gift I got was from one of the young women at church. Kaylin made me a pillow that had DUCKY FLEECE on it! It was great, because it was the right size and firmness to rest my arms on. I'm still using it. A lap pillow is a great gift for someone in the hospital.
The other important thing I learned was that they do offer linens with no bleach. I thought that sitting in a bed itching and raw was just a side effect of medication (which it partially is), but my new bnf (best nurse friend) Sarah offered the no-bleach. I said fine, not thinking it would really matter, but HOLY COW!! It made a huge difference. They must use about 3 1/2 cups of bleach per medium sized load, because the non-bleachy sheets were....I'm not lying...soft. Can you believe it? So, just remember, if you need to lay in a hospital bed, ask for the no bleach package. It's worth the trouble.
These things may seem trivial, but trust me. When dealing with that sort of pain, the last thing you need is to feel like your skin is going to fall off!
I was sweating up a storm on my bike and then I got run over by a car.
*refers to both skin and temperment
Thursday, August 21, 2008
One Woman Book Club
Okay, so after writing the last post, I went to R. Jane's school where they happen to have a parent-lending library. Some of the books are about Waldorf education, children, knitting, paper-crafting, some of which I thought I might check out later when I could practice more. (The hand-craft books, that is.) Then I saw it. One of my favorite books ever written. An amazing piece of literature that every soul on earth should read. It's right up there with "Summer of the Monkeys" and "Maniac McGee". Ever read it? If not, you should. If you have, comment on it and let me know what YOU think of it.
(btw, is this book based on actual events? I've always wondered, but I'm not from NYC, so I have no idea. Please help!)
Monday, August 18, 2008
I'm Healing!
...and I've never felt worse in my life.
It's been awhile since I've worked on this story, but things kept happening in the last couple of weeks. (Next post will probably be back to the hospital.) For instance, I'm starting to heal, so the doctors assume I don't need anymore pain medicine. I've really been trying to stretch out my last prescription, and it's not really that fun. I am not allowed to take ibuprofen because of my spleen injury, so it's just me and my Tylenol every 4 hours. Turns out that without any narcotic element it isn't nearly as effective. Oh, well, another 2-3 months and I'll be good as new, right? grrrrr.
People keep asking me if I'm bored out of my mind, and right up until my prescription ran out the answer was always "no", because I spent a lot of my mornings on the computer and watching "Match Game 76" on GSN until Dale came home for lunch, and much of the afternoon snoozing in my armchair and ignoring the telephone until the fambly got home at 6:30 or so. I no longer sleep my day away, and the computer and TV are getting a little old, so if you were to ask me today, the answer would be "yes". Of course, if I answered "yes" said people would probably start throwing out suggestions of ways to fill my time, like reading. Too bad I've already read everything in my house I have an interest in at least five times and am, like, the world's fastest reader so I would literally read (take ten points if you got the redunduncy) about 1000 pages (no exageration) during the time I am here alone. I could read the entire entire Harry Potter series (again), but it's just not as awesome when you have books 1-5 memorized, and besides, do I really want to mix pleasure with pain? That must be why I have a hard time reading while on bed rest. I have been reading the Book of Mormon, though, and that's been awesome. So maybe its just that I need an awesome read. Suggestions are welcome! I like young adult fiction the best, but I don't want to read anything crude, lewd, or deep. I've had quite enough personal experience with philosophy in the last six weeks...I don't need to add to it with someone else's life dilemas!
Of course, the other question I get is, "Are you writing?" Have you been reading? Of course I have been writing. Blogging, anyway. Plus, I sent an email to Schwinn (maker of my helmet) thanking them for saving my life, and they are going to send me a new helmet! Yippee! My first compensated piece of work! Not quite as good as getting published, but still. A free helmet is a free helmet. (Thanks, Schwinn!) My "real" writing is stored on the upstairs computer and I haven't gotten around to moving it to my new laptop. Plus, I'm a big fat chicken so I am taking a literal break. (Again, ten points if you got it!)
Another side effect of "getting better" is that I've been having my kids home for the morning for the last few days. They all have been going to the babysitters all day, but then on Thurs. and Fri. of last week I ended up keeping them till lunch, because lets face it, I miss them. Most of the kids will return to the sitter again today, (Mon. afternoon) until school starts (Wed. morning), but one or two of them really want to be home. OK, one of them can be really swayed (LILY!) but my sunshine (Sarah) wants to hang with me. The baby, of course, will have to be with the sitter. I can't lift her yet without having screaming pain in my chest and collar bones. yucky.
The worst part of "getting better" is that I really want to "be better". I keep (foolishly) trying to get up and do things, like I thought it would be fun to take the family to the swimming pool because I figured that the water would feel really good on my muscles and bones, or at least wouldn't ADD to any discomfort. However, it didn't work out because when I put my suit on it squished all my bones and muscles together, and it did not feel good. That was fairly depressing. Then I spent the day in Palmer with a friend, which was great, except she doesn't have an armchair, and so my arms were dangling all day. I came home uber-sore. Gravitiy stinks, don't it?
I was super worried that I was going to fracture my elbow, and spent the next 3.342 seconds being run over by a car.
p.s. When Dale injured his elbow, HIS doctor gave him more narcotic meds (by like, four times) then MINE. How does that work out?
***If this is your first time tuning into the "Run Over by a Car" saga, start on July 22 (see archives) and work your way up!***
It's been awhile since I've worked on this story, but things kept happening in the last couple of weeks. (Next post will probably be back to the hospital.) For instance, I'm starting to heal, so the doctors assume I don't need anymore pain medicine. I've really been trying to stretch out my last prescription, and it's not really that fun. I am not allowed to take ibuprofen because of my spleen injury, so it's just me and my Tylenol every 4 hours. Turns out that without any narcotic element it isn't nearly as effective. Oh, well, another 2-3 months and I'll be good as new, right? grrrrr.
People keep asking me if I'm bored out of my mind, and right up until my prescription ran out the answer was always "no", because I spent a lot of my mornings on the computer and watching "Match Game 76" on GSN until Dale came home for lunch, and much of the afternoon snoozing in my armchair and ignoring the telephone until the fambly got home at 6:30 or so. I no longer sleep my day away, and the computer and TV are getting a little old, so if you were to ask me today, the answer would be "yes". Of course, if I answered "yes" said people would probably start throwing out suggestions of ways to fill my time, like reading. Too bad I've already read everything in my house I have an interest in at least five times and am, like, the world's fastest reader so I would literally read (take ten points if you got the redunduncy) about 1000 pages (no exageration) during the time I am here alone. I could read the entire entire Harry Potter series (again), but it's just not as awesome when you have books 1-5 memorized, and besides, do I really want to mix pleasure with pain? That must be why I have a hard time reading while on bed rest. I have been reading the Book of Mormon, though, and that's been awesome. So maybe its just that I need an awesome read. Suggestions are welcome! I like young adult fiction the best, but I don't want to read anything crude, lewd, or deep. I've had quite enough personal experience with philosophy in the last six weeks...I don't need to add to it with someone else's life dilemas!
Of course, the other question I get is, "Are you writing?" Have you been reading? Of course I have been writing. Blogging, anyway. Plus, I sent an email to Schwinn (maker of my helmet) thanking them for saving my life, and they are going to send me a new helmet! Yippee! My first compensated piece of work! Not quite as good as getting published, but still. A free helmet is a free helmet. (Thanks, Schwinn!) My "real" writing is stored on the upstairs computer and I haven't gotten around to moving it to my new laptop. Plus, I'm a big fat chicken so I am taking a literal break. (Again, ten points if you got it!)
Another side effect of "getting better" is that I've been having my kids home for the morning for the last few days. They all have been going to the babysitters all day, but then on Thurs. and Fri. of last week I ended up keeping them till lunch, because lets face it, I miss them. Most of the kids will return to the sitter again today, (Mon. afternoon) until school starts (Wed. morning), but one or two of them really want to be home. OK, one of them can be really swayed (LILY!) but my sunshine (Sarah) wants to hang with me. The baby, of course, will have to be with the sitter. I can't lift her yet without having screaming pain in my chest and collar bones. yucky.
The worst part of "getting better" is that I really want to "be better". I keep (foolishly) trying to get up and do things, like I thought it would be fun to take the family to the swimming pool because I figured that the water would feel really good on my muscles and bones, or at least wouldn't ADD to any discomfort. However, it didn't work out because when I put my suit on it squished all my bones and muscles together, and it did not feel good. That was fairly depressing. Then I spent the day in Palmer with a friend, which was great, except she doesn't have an armchair, and so my arms were dangling all day. I came home uber-sore. Gravitiy stinks, don't it?
I was super worried that I was going to fracture my elbow, and spent the next 3.342 seconds being run over by a car.
p.s. When Dale injured his elbow, HIS doctor gave him more narcotic meds (by like, four times) then MINE. How does that work out?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Head, Heart, and Hands...That's Rebecca!
After months of intense fasting and prayer, (the most pure of which was done by Rebecca herself,) Rebecca Jane has been accepted to the Winterberry Charter School! Wh00-Hooo! I just got the phone call about 5 minutes ago with the school, and want to shout it from the rooftops! We are so excited!For more info on Winterberry, click here.
This is truly a miracle; there were about 15 people on the list ahead of her. They just did the August lottery, and she got in!
She is going to have a great time. Finally, she will be in learning environment that caters to her learning style; head, heart and hands.
Congratulations, Rebec, and thanks for keeping the faith!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Will you cry for me?
Because I can't. It hurts WAY too much.
**As always, if you have not been tracking my whole "I got run over by a car" saga, start on July 22, 2008 and work your way up.**
If you have ever been to the hospital for trauma, a stubbed toe, to birth a child, or to have an x-ray, you are probably familiar with the following question: "How would you rate your pain?"
They asked me that, a lot, on my first night in the ICU. Unfortunately for me, (and him) there was another bike vs car incident about 2 hours after mine. (Still don't know how that turned out and am not sure I want to.) So I was pretty much left alone for about 4 hours after I was stabalized.
Those of you who know me well are fully aware that morphine and I DO NOT get along. Oh, how it makes me itch! It is terrible! I let the nurses know this, and it turned out to be a BIG mistake. Only because their focus was now on patient #2 (completely understandable) and I was left alone in the ICU with a pharmacy that only stocked morphine. They had to wait for the pharmacy downstairs to get the alternate meds. I was not happy. Neither was Dale, cause I kept telling him (okay, yelling at him) to make a nurse get me some drugs. I wasn't too nice about it, either. The nurse kept asking me my pain level, and I would shout, "9.7!" Isn't that sort of random? She would repeat, "9.7?" like, I can't believe we're using decimals right now. It was so weird. Anyway, they said they wouldn't give me morphine cause they didn't want me to be uncomfortable and itchy. To me, that's like telling someone who is dehydrated and near death in the desert that you have water, but you don't want to give it to them because it might have an after-taste! I think it was about 4 hours before I finally got drugged enough to where I could actually sleep.
At some point they decided to put in the chest tube. Man, I don't even want to get into that. At one point I was grumbling and probably saying something like, "son of gun!", and one of the medical people around said, "It's okay to swear; we don't really care." I actually said, "I don't swear. Ever." I was kind of proud of myself. Okay, so some of you have heard me use a couple of choice words, but only when I'm really mad at someone or a situation. I don't swear for 9.7 pain, only for personal vindiction. Funny what you learn about yourself, huh?
They say no pain, no gain, but come on. There have been two other significant times of pain in my life. The first was when Sarah was born. There was blood in the epidural, and they had to do the c-section "mostly" numb. Mostly numb my rear end! I could actually feel them cut into my bod! Then I hemmoraged, so they had to press down on my fresh, new, scare to get all the blood out. Poor new mothers. They did this in the mother-baby unit. I'm sure my neighbors were thrilled to hear my screams of agony while they were doing that! But I did get gain out of that. My beautful ray of sunshine, my beautiful little Sarah.
The second time I had remarkable pain was when I had gallbladder problems. That was terrible. I'm not even going to get into it. The pain was so bad I was vomiting. (I wanted to vomit at the hospital, but they wouldn't let me because of the chest tube. Plus, it wasn't worth it--I NEVER throw up as it is--let alone when I have 4 fractured ribs and a cracked sternem. No, thank you!) Anyway, I didn't get anything out of that but a small vial of gall stones. Neat souvenir, but not really worth it, ya know?
This pain has been the worst, by far, and has lasted to longest, by far. I'm still dealing with it, over 4 weeks after the accident. They finally got me an epidural at the hospital, which saved me from having my chest cavity opened and getting a few screws drilled in my chest. Since I've been home, though, it's been me and my friend Percocet, and that's rapidly running out! It is getting better, though, and I thank heaven everyday that I am here to feel this pain. Not that I like being in pain, you understand. I just sort of like being alive, thank you very much!
Dale has been feeling the pain, too. I got out of the shower a few days ago, and involuntarily I hiccuped. Dale actually heard my chest crackling. Gross, huh? And yes, it hurt.
I was feeling the burn on my way to the church and then I got run over by a car.
**As always, if you have not been tracking my whole "I got run over by a car" saga, start on July 22, 2008 and work your way up.**
If you have ever been to the hospital for trauma, a stubbed toe, to birth a child, or to have an x-ray, you are probably familiar with the following question: "How would you rate your pain?"
They asked me that, a lot, on my first night in the ICU. Unfortunately for me, (and him) there was another bike vs car incident about 2 hours after mine. (Still don't know how that turned out and am not sure I want to.) So I was pretty much left alone for about 4 hours after I was stabalized.
Those of you who know me well are fully aware that morphine and I DO NOT get along. Oh, how it makes me itch! It is terrible! I let the nurses know this, and it turned out to be a BIG mistake. Only because their focus was now on patient #2 (completely understandable) and I was left alone in the ICU with a pharmacy that only stocked morphine. They had to wait for the pharmacy downstairs to get the alternate meds. I was not happy. Neither was Dale, cause I kept telling him (okay, yelling at him) to make a nurse get me some drugs. I wasn't too nice about it, either. The nurse kept asking me my pain level, and I would shout, "9.7!" Isn't that sort of random? She would repeat, "9.7?" like, I can't believe we're using decimals right now. It was so weird. Anyway, they said they wouldn't give me morphine cause they didn't want me to be uncomfortable and itchy. To me, that's like telling someone who is dehydrated and near death in the desert that you have water, but you don't want to give it to them because it might have an after-taste! I think it was about 4 hours before I finally got drugged enough to where I could actually sleep.
At some point they decided to put in the chest tube. Man, I don't even want to get into that. At one point I was grumbling and probably saying something like, "son of gun!", and one of the medical people around said, "It's okay to swear; we don't really care." I actually said, "I don't swear. Ever." I was kind of proud of myself. Okay, so some of you have heard me use a couple of choice words, but only when I'm really mad at someone or a situation. I don't swear for 9.7 pain, only for personal vindiction. Funny what you learn about yourself, huh?
They say no pain, no gain, but come on. There have been two other significant times of pain in my life. The first was when Sarah was born. There was blood in the epidural, and they had to do the c-section "mostly" numb. Mostly numb my rear end! I could actually feel them cut into my bod! Then I hemmoraged, so they had to press down on my fresh, new, scare to get all the blood out. Poor new mothers. They did this in the mother-baby unit. I'm sure my neighbors were thrilled to hear my screams of agony while they were doing that! But I did get gain out of that. My beautful ray of sunshine, my beautiful little Sarah.
The second time I had remarkable pain was when I had gallbladder problems. That was terrible. I'm not even going to get into it. The pain was so bad I was vomiting. (I wanted to vomit at the hospital, but they wouldn't let me because of the chest tube. Plus, it wasn't worth it--I NEVER throw up as it is--let alone when I have 4 fractured ribs and a cracked sternem. No, thank you!) Anyway, I didn't get anything out of that but a small vial of gall stones. Neat souvenir, but not really worth it, ya know?
This pain has been the worst, by far, and has lasted to longest, by far. I'm still dealing with it, over 4 weeks after the accident. They finally got me an epidural at the hospital, which saved me from having my chest cavity opened and getting a few screws drilled in my chest. Since I've been home, though, it's been me and my friend Percocet, and that's rapidly running out! It is getting better, though, and I thank heaven everyday that I am here to feel this pain. Not that I like being in pain, you understand. I just sort of like being alive, thank you very much!
Dale has been feeling the pain, too. I got out of the shower a few days ago, and involuntarily I hiccuped. Dale actually heard my chest crackling. Gross, huh? And yes, it hurt.
I was feeling the burn on my way to the church and then I got run over by a car.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
What's to learn?
I'm supposed to be napping since everyone's at church, but I'm going to post instead. (As always, if you have not read all the posts from July 22 on, scroll down and start from the bottom, if you're the type who likes the ending to not be spoiled.) I want to get the ENTIRE experience blogged as soon as possible before my body heals and my energies are focused on my hectic life and Therapy Thursdays again.
Which brings up an interesting point. It has been so nice (despite the pain) to be able to slow down and get a break. (unfortuantely, literally a break) Somewhat PUH-thetic that it took being run over by a car to get said break, but I'll take it!
While visiting me a few days ago with Bishop Huntsman, Brother Sunberg asked me what I had learned from this experience. Because I was caught off-guard, I gave a couple of lame answers. Since then, I've given some thought to the question, and thought I'd make a list. So here it is.
What I learned from being run over by a car:
Being hit by a car really hurts.
People in Alaska don't know how to drive. Actually, I already knew this, and if you have ever driven in this state, you know it, too. A couple of stories to illustrate my point: A few days after I returned home fromt he hospital, I had a doctors apointment. My dh loaded me carefully in the car and headed off to the hospital for my appointment. As he cautiously and gingerly made a legal right-hand turn onto Providence Drive about a block from the hospital, a vehicle made a wreckless and illegal U-turn in the middle of the semi-busy road over two sets of yellow lines--the kind with diagonal yellow lines between them. My dh had to hit the brakes, and then got hit in the arm. (Reflex. It really hurt.)
The next time we ventured out, we went to the school in our neighborhood to run the dog and kids. (I sat in a camping chair with a pillow.) On our way home, my aforementioned dh noticed that there were two dozen or so children on skateboard, bikes, and foot scattered all over the neighborhood, (73% of whom WERE NOT wearing helmets) and was therefore driving a conservative 20 mph. All of a sudden, we saw a car flash by, passing us illegally on the right, going at least 43.4 mph. And the driver flipped us off. Nice.
Last example, and this is my "favorite". We were driving home from a visit to the mall to purchase Webkins for the kids. We approached our street, heading East on Tudor. All of a sudden, a truck with a trailer jumps the center median, where he is now driving TOWARDS oncoming traffic. He then makes an illegal left turn into our neighborhood.
I think my dh is going to start leaving me home, because his shoulder is getting fairly bruised everytime we venture out! Sorry, babe!
Riding a bike in Anchorage is risky business. The following story illustrates:
An adorable middle-aged man walked into a restaurant to pick up a small pepperoni and pineapple pizza for himself and a Philedelphia sandwich for his witty, beautiful, and talented wife. The woman behind the counter told him how a week before her husband got run over by a car while bicycling. He was unhurt; his bike was a twisted mess. Overhearing the conversation, a fellow patron said that he worked at the Lake Otis Pharmacy and witnessed a terrible bike vs. car accident just a few weeks ago. The adorable-middle aged man confessed he was married to the victim of said accident, and that he himself was in a biking accident involving a car a year prior. I am adding a poll question to my blog, because the more I talk to people, the more I find that although my story is dramatic, it is not that unique. So many people have had close calls on their bikes, or know people who have. So take a sec and answer the question, please! I'm really interested in the results.
Some times things happen for many reasons. Since my accident, many people have told me why they think this happened. Not always WHY, but often what they or someone they know can learn from it, from close family, to friends, to church associates, to nurses and doctors in the hospital, to good people in Veracruz Mexico. Some I may share at some point; others are too sacred and personal. So if you haven't already, you may want to ask yourself: why do YOU think that this happened? Whatever your answer is, it is the correct and possibly singular reason that this happened.
-DAD SKIP THIS ONE! :)- Bras are, like, the best invention, ever! Ladies, do you have any idea how important this piece of clothing is? For us big-bossomed gals, especially! (I warned you, Dad.) It's more than support. Its the fact that all that skin-to-skin contact causes a lot of sweating, and it gets very funky under there. If y0u are EVER in a situation where strapping on a braisierre is not an option, I suggest a thin layer of deodarant, especially if you're nursing. It at least keeps things smelling fresh!
Peoples true colors come out in times of crisis, including my own. And most people shine some really beautiful shades!
I am truly loved. While I had always hoped it was true, it is so nice to find out that people really care about you. So many people have rallied around me--I'm just amazed.
Good intentions don't always lead to good results. I never said that everything I learned was positive or comfortable to talk about, and I don't want to ignore one of the biggest aspects of my bicycle journey. Sometimes people, usually the people who love us/know us the most, get carried away trying to help out. In this case, at some point, and I'm not even sure when, helping me out turned into deciding for me what I needed to learn from this, how I needed to keep my house, and how I needed to be a better mother.
Carpets are really, really, important to me. Actually, it's not so much carpets as my identity as a mother. While I was in the hospital, loved ones wanted to change my carpet. I didn't want them changed. It may have cost me some friendships. I hope not. It's not really about carpet. It was more about me having no control over what was happening with my kids, my dog, my house, or myself. Carpets was my way of trying to say, "Stop! Let me recover from this trauma, and then we'll talk!" Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I am not a bad person because I have a messy house!" Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I AM a good mom. I know it, my kids know it, and the Lord knows it." Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I'm capable of being an active participant in correcting my own short-comings as a person. I DO have a say in how my problems are resolved." Carpets was my way of saying, "This is already really hard, and I don't need to worry about fixing myself as much as healing myself for now!" Carpets was my way of saying, "Give me six months and I will be better, and will have the physical ability to work on changing carpets! " Carpets was my way of saying,"I am a good person, dang it!"
Short of the atonement, agency may be the greatest of God's gifts. Mine was taken for a short time, and it was terrible. Not having control over your body, health, family, house, meals, pain medication, hair style, or even which glasses frames I'll be wearing for the next few months was awful. I'm grateful that the Savior was chosen to fulfill Heavenly Father's plan. I am grateful for agency.
The Book of Mormon is pretty much my best friend. It's always there. It always has great advice. It always makes me feel good about myself. It is always honest. It is always true.
Firemen are people, too. They squabble, work, debate, wonder, and plod along just like the rest of us. Sorry to burst your bubble, Logan!
Surgeons really DO want to cut you up! I'll blog more details later, but long story short, doctors don't want surgery; surgeons do. Just like in hospital shows on TV! Amazing!
I'll leave it there for now. There are a zillion more things, but I've been working on this for hours over the past two days, and I think Dale has finsished a bean burrito for me. Yum!
I was not contemplating the meaning of life, just the details of camp, and then I got run over by a car.
Which brings up an interesting point. It has been so nice (despite the pain) to be able to slow down and get a break. (unfortuantely, literally a break) Somewhat PUH-thetic that it took being run over by a car to get said break, but I'll take it!
While visiting me a few days ago with Bishop Huntsman, Brother Sunberg asked me what I had learned from this experience. Because I was caught off-guard, I gave a couple of lame answers. Since then, I've given some thought to the question, and thought I'd make a list. So here it is.
What I learned from being run over by a car:
Being hit by a car really hurts.
People in Alaska don't know how to drive. Actually, I already knew this, and if you have ever driven in this state, you know it, too. A couple of stories to illustrate my point: A few days after I returned home fromt he hospital, I had a doctors apointment. My dh loaded me carefully in the car and headed off to the hospital for my appointment. As he cautiously and gingerly made a legal right-hand turn onto Providence Drive about a block from the hospital, a vehicle made a wreckless and illegal U-turn in the middle of the semi-busy road over two sets of yellow lines--the kind with diagonal yellow lines between them. My dh had to hit the brakes, and then got hit in the arm. (Reflex. It really hurt.)
The next time we ventured out, we went to the school in our neighborhood to run the dog and kids. (I sat in a camping chair with a pillow.) On our way home, my aforementioned dh noticed that there were two dozen or so children on skateboard, bikes, and foot scattered all over the neighborhood, (73% of whom WERE NOT wearing helmets) and was therefore driving a conservative 20 mph. All of a sudden, we saw a car flash by, passing us illegally on the right, going at least 43.4 mph. And the driver flipped us off. Nice.
Last example, and this is my "favorite". We were driving home from a visit to the mall to purchase Webkins for the kids. We approached our street, heading East on Tudor. All of a sudden, a truck with a trailer jumps the center median, where he is now driving TOWARDS oncoming traffic. He then makes an illegal left turn into our neighborhood.
I think my dh is going to start leaving me home, because his shoulder is getting fairly bruised everytime we venture out! Sorry, babe!
Riding a bike in Anchorage is risky business. The following story illustrates:
An adorable middle-aged man walked into a restaurant to pick up a small pepperoni and pineapple pizza for himself and a Philedelphia sandwich for his witty, beautiful, and talented wife. The woman behind the counter told him how a week before her husband got run over by a car while bicycling. He was unhurt; his bike was a twisted mess. Overhearing the conversation, a fellow patron said that he worked at the Lake Otis Pharmacy and witnessed a terrible bike vs. car accident just a few weeks ago. The adorable-middle aged man confessed he was married to the victim of said accident, and that he himself was in a biking accident involving a car a year prior. I am adding a poll question to my blog, because the more I talk to people, the more I find that although my story is dramatic, it is not that unique. So many people have had close calls on their bikes, or know people who have. So take a sec and answer the question, please! I'm really interested in the results.
Some times things happen for many reasons. Since my accident, many people have told me why they think this happened. Not always WHY, but often what they or someone they know can learn from it, from close family, to friends, to church associates, to nurses and doctors in the hospital, to good people in Veracruz Mexico. Some I may share at some point; others are too sacred and personal. So if you haven't already, you may want to ask yourself: why do YOU think that this happened? Whatever your answer is, it is the correct and possibly singular reason that this happened.
-DAD SKIP THIS ONE! :)- Bras are, like, the best invention, ever! Ladies, do you have any idea how important this piece of clothing is? For us big-bossomed gals, especially! (I warned you, Dad.) It's more than support. Its the fact that all that skin-to-skin contact causes a lot of sweating, and it gets very funky under there. If y0u are EVER in a situation where strapping on a braisierre is not an option, I suggest a thin layer of deodarant, especially if you're nursing. It at least keeps things smelling fresh!
Peoples true colors come out in times of crisis, including my own. And most people shine some really beautiful shades!
I am truly loved. While I had always hoped it was true, it is so nice to find out that people really care about you. So many people have rallied around me--I'm just amazed.
Good intentions don't always lead to good results. I never said that everything I learned was positive or comfortable to talk about, and I don't want to ignore one of the biggest aspects of my bicycle journey. Sometimes people, usually the people who love us/know us the most, get carried away trying to help out. In this case, at some point, and I'm not even sure when, helping me out turned into deciding for me what I needed to learn from this, how I needed to keep my house, and how I needed to be a better mother.
Carpets are really, really, important to me. Actually, it's not so much carpets as my identity as a mother. While I was in the hospital, loved ones wanted to change my carpet. I didn't want them changed. It may have cost me some friendships. I hope not. It's not really about carpet. It was more about me having no control over what was happening with my kids, my dog, my house, or myself. Carpets was my way of trying to say, "Stop! Let me recover from this trauma, and then we'll talk!" Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I am not a bad person because I have a messy house!" Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I AM a good mom. I know it, my kids know it, and the Lord knows it." Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I'm capable of being an active participant in correcting my own short-comings as a person. I DO have a say in how my problems are resolved." Carpets was my way of saying, "This is already really hard, and I don't need to worry about fixing myself as much as healing myself for now!" Carpets was my way of saying, "Give me six months and I will be better, and will have the physical ability to work on changing carpets! " Carpets was my way of saying,"I am a good person, dang it!"
Short of the atonement, agency may be the greatest of God's gifts. Mine was taken for a short time, and it was terrible. Not having control over your body, health, family, house, meals, pain medication, hair style, or even which glasses frames I'll be wearing for the next few months was awful. I'm grateful that the Savior was chosen to fulfill Heavenly Father's plan. I am grateful for agency.
The Book of Mormon is pretty much my best friend. It's always there. It always has great advice. It always makes me feel good about myself. It is always honest. It is always true.
Firemen are people, too. They squabble, work, debate, wonder, and plod along just like the rest of us. Sorry to burst your bubble, Logan!
Surgeons really DO want to cut you up! I'll blog more details later, but long story short, doctors don't want surgery; surgeons do. Just like in hospital shows on TV! Amazing!
I'll leave it there for now. There are a zillion more things, but I've been working on this for hours over the past two days, and I think Dale has finsished a bean burrito for me. Yum!
I was not contemplating the meaning of life, just the details of camp, and then I got run over by a car.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
As Promised...
Pictures of my helmet after being run over by a car. (Again, if you are just tuning in, scroll down to the first "and then I got run over by a car" post to start at the beginning.) Yes, my head was in the helmet. No, I don't have brain damage. The only damage to my head was a couple of minor contusions and a chunk of ripped out hair.
The helmet already had all the tape on it. It is designed that way to hold it all together so that if it is crushed, the foam will stay in place and not just split into pieces. It's a good design.
The first three pictures show how the helmet cracked just like a hard boiled egg. That would have been my skull. If you click on them, you can really see the detail and how significant the cracks are.
The last picture was taken by my sister, Jane, who came up to take care of the kiddos while I was hospitalized. It puts the punctuation mark on exactly why you should strap on your helmet every single time you get on that bike.
A lot of credit has been given to my helmet for saving my life. It's true. It did save my life. But that's not the only reason I am here today, the best looking car vs. bike patient my ER doc has ever seen. There were angels with me that night, and without them I would have been a goner. So in your prayers, thank Heavenly Father for sending angels to protect me and allow me to return home to my DH and 5 small children. (and my dog. I love you, Olive!)
I strapped on my helmet before heading out on my bike and then I got run over by a car.
The helmet already had all the tape on it. It is designed that way to hold it all together so that if it is crushed, the foam will stay in place and not just split into pieces. It's a good design.
The first three pictures show how the helmet cracked just like a hard boiled egg. That would have been my skull. If you click on them, you can really see the detail and how significant the cracks are.
The last picture was taken by my sister, Jane, who came up to take care of the kiddos while I was hospitalized. It puts the punctuation mark on exactly why you should strap on your helmet every single time you get on that bike.
A lot of credit has been given to my helmet for saving my life. It's true. It did save my life. But that's not the only reason I am here today, the best looking car vs. bike patient my ER doc has ever seen. There were angels with me that night, and without them I would have been a goner. So in your prayers, thank Heavenly Father for sending angels to protect me and allow me to return home to my DH and 5 small children. (and my dog. I love you, Olive!)
I strapped on my helmet before heading out on my bike and then I got run over by a car.
Monday, July 28, 2008
"I'm going to be okay",
even though I just got run over by a car
The strangest thing about my accident, and maybe the best, is that I never thought I was going to die. (If you just tuned in, you may want to go down the the first "ran over by a car" post so you don't miss the beginning of my memoir.) I never had a sense of impending doom, my life didn't flash before my eyes, I never saw a light or a tunnel. The PA who was by my side heard me say again and again, "I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be okay." She kept encouraging me and reassuring me that I was right, I was going to be okay, but I'm not sure she believed it. I wish I knew who she was. She was a guardian angel that day.
The ride to the hospital was nothing less than torture. The paramedics kept asking me a million times if I was allergic to anything, if I was diabetic, what my name was, how old I was, what my address was, blah, blah, blah. Then one made the mistake of asking me my medical history. I actually said, "Medical History?!? You'll (breath) have to (breath) look it (breath) up!" (If any of you have ever seen Malcolm in the Middle, I sounded (still do) a lot like Stevie.) I really didn't want to go into my whole history there in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I wasn't about to go over the checklist with him about family history and explain about 5 c-sections and a gallbladder. Anyway, I kept begging for drugs (I was really really hurting) and they kept trying to find a vein. (Thanks, M&D.) They never did find one in the ambulance. They are just too small, so after digging around for several minutes and leaving a huge hole in my arm they gave up and let the ER staff do it. I still have a scab on my arm from that.
The trauma section of the ER is bizzaro world. I know these nurses and docs do this a lot, but so much of it seemed overly routine to me. Like one of the nurses kept saying she was going to send a photo of the helmet to Schwinn (maker of said helmet) as a testimonial that it saved lives. I think every single doc and nurse in there took a photo of the helmet. I heard a million times about how they were going to show the picture to their son/daughter/husband/neighbor/co-worker/stranger-on-the-street who refuses to wear a bike helmet. Now, I have nothing agaist being a shining example (better than a blaring reminder, especially in this case!) but could we focus on getting me some pain meds, please?
Finally, they got me some drugs. They didn't help a whole lot. It lasted about 3 minutes, got my pain down to about a 6, and then it would fade out. I have an extremely low tolerance for pain, so this was agony for me. I kept begging for them to just put me under, but they said they couldn't until they knew what the damage was, just in case I had to go into surgery to get my arm cut off and then I woke up and was like, WHAT?!? I told them I didn't care, they could do whatever they wanted, but they wouldn't give in. I punished them by groaning and complaining a ton. I was hoping to become abnoxous enough that they would do anything to shut me up, but they must be used to the ploy because it didn't work. Next time maybe I'll try lewd comments and crude language. Maybe that would work better.
I went to get an MRI (I think they were playing a fun game called: "How many times can we move a trauma patient from bed to bed?"). This was interesting as well. "Take a deep breath and don't move." Take a deep breath? Are you kidding? Shallow breathing is killer, and I can feel my ribs crackling as it is. A deep breath would have knocked me unconscious. (Wait, maybe I should have done it!) Don't move? Uh, okay. I'll try really hard to stop tap dancing from my bed. Like I could move if I tried! (I was strapped to a table, wearing a neck brace and in an MRI machine, not to mention I JUST GOT RAN OVER BY A CAR!!!) They asked if my wedding ring would come off. I said yes. They tried to pry it off, and it killed. Finally, they unstrapped my arm so I could get it off myself. The guy didn't think I could do it and turned his back to get some soap. I got it off in .5 and told him so, but he wouldn't listen. Finally, the other guy yelled at him and said it was off. Then there were some "funny" comments about how of course a guy couldn't get the ring off my finger....ha ha ha, now can I have some drugs, PLEASE?
The worst part about the ER was seeing my kids. Dale had no clue I was there for over an hour because he wasn't at home and I accidentally gave the staff his work number instead of the cell. Oops. Blame it on the Pain, yeah, yaa! (Take ten points if you laughed, minus five if you don't get it.) He showed up at the church as planned, saw I wasn't there, dropped of the girls, and headed to the hospital in hopes I decided to go to the Diabetes Support Group meeting. Just as he was arriving at the hospital, I realized my error and they called the cell. So Dale came trotting into the ER with Logan, Lily, and the baby. My face had not been cleaned up yet, I had a million nurses and docs milling around, I was wearing a neck brace, and was lying in the bizzaro trauma world. The kids were pretty freaked out. Dale was worse. I had to calm everybody down and tell them I was okay. Lily was fascinated, but Logan was really not pleased with the situation. I told him I got to ride in the ambulance, and he started to perk up. I'm so grateful for the spirit. I cannot tell you how many times I have known exactly what to say to that boy to keep him from totally falling apart. He started asking me questions about that, and I told him that there was a fire truck and firemen there, and he thought that was pretty cool. Then I told Dale to get the heck out of there, I was fine. He did.
Later, a friend was driving them to Danitra's house. Lily kept talking to her about the accident. Then Logan said, "We're not talking about mom anymore." End of conversation.
I got to ride in an ambulance and meet a bunch of firemen. That's cuz I got run over by a car.
The strangest thing about my accident, and maybe the best, is that I never thought I was going to die. (If you just tuned in, you may want to go down the the first "ran over by a car" post so you don't miss the beginning of my memoir.) I never had a sense of impending doom, my life didn't flash before my eyes, I never saw a light or a tunnel. The PA who was by my side heard me say again and again, "I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be okay." She kept encouraging me and reassuring me that I was right, I was going to be okay, but I'm not sure she believed it. I wish I knew who she was. She was a guardian angel that day.
The ride to the hospital was nothing less than torture. The paramedics kept asking me a million times if I was allergic to anything, if I was diabetic, what my name was, how old I was, what my address was, blah, blah, blah. Then one made the mistake of asking me my medical history. I actually said, "Medical History?!? You'll (breath) have to (breath) look it (breath) up!" (If any of you have ever seen Malcolm in the Middle, I sounded (still do) a lot like Stevie.) I really didn't want to go into my whole history there in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I wasn't about to go over the checklist with him about family history and explain about 5 c-sections and a gallbladder. Anyway, I kept begging for drugs (I was really really hurting) and they kept trying to find a vein. (Thanks, M&D.) They never did find one in the ambulance. They are just too small, so after digging around for several minutes and leaving a huge hole in my arm they gave up and let the ER staff do it. I still have a scab on my arm from that.
The trauma section of the ER is bizzaro world. I know these nurses and docs do this a lot, but so much of it seemed overly routine to me. Like one of the nurses kept saying she was going to send a photo of the helmet to Schwinn (maker of said helmet) as a testimonial that it saved lives. I think every single doc and nurse in there took a photo of the helmet. I heard a million times about how they were going to show the picture to their son/daughter/husband/neighbor/co-worker/stranger-on-the-street who refuses to wear a bike helmet. Now, I have nothing agaist being a shining example (better than a blaring reminder, especially in this case!) but could we focus on getting me some pain meds, please?
Finally, they got me some drugs. They didn't help a whole lot. It lasted about 3 minutes, got my pain down to about a 6, and then it would fade out. I have an extremely low tolerance for pain, so this was agony for me. I kept begging for them to just put me under, but they said they couldn't until they knew what the damage was, just in case I had to go into surgery to get my arm cut off and then I woke up and was like, WHAT?!? I told them I didn't care, they could do whatever they wanted, but they wouldn't give in. I punished them by groaning and complaining a ton. I was hoping to become abnoxous enough that they would do anything to shut me up, but they must be used to the ploy because it didn't work. Next time maybe I'll try lewd comments and crude language. Maybe that would work better.
I went to get an MRI (I think they were playing a fun game called: "How many times can we move a trauma patient from bed to bed?"). This was interesting as well. "Take a deep breath and don't move." Take a deep breath? Are you kidding? Shallow breathing is killer, and I can feel my ribs crackling as it is. A deep breath would have knocked me unconscious. (Wait, maybe I should have done it!) Don't move? Uh, okay. I'll try really hard to stop tap dancing from my bed. Like I could move if I tried! (I was strapped to a table, wearing a neck brace and in an MRI machine, not to mention I JUST GOT RAN OVER BY A CAR!!!) They asked if my wedding ring would come off. I said yes. They tried to pry it off, and it killed. Finally, they unstrapped my arm so I could get it off myself. The guy didn't think I could do it and turned his back to get some soap. I got it off in .5 and told him so, but he wouldn't listen. Finally, the other guy yelled at him and said it was off. Then there were some "funny" comments about how of course a guy couldn't get the ring off my finger....ha ha ha, now can I have some drugs, PLEASE?
The worst part about the ER was seeing my kids. Dale had no clue I was there for over an hour because he wasn't at home and I accidentally gave the staff his work number instead of the cell. Oops. Blame it on the Pain, yeah, yaa! (Take ten points if you laughed, minus five if you don't get it.) He showed up at the church as planned, saw I wasn't there, dropped of the girls, and headed to the hospital in hopes I decided to go to the Diabetes Support Group meeting. Just as he was arriving at the hospital, I realized my error and they called the cell. So Dale came trotting into the ER with Logan, Lily, and the baby. My face had not been cleaned up yet, I had a million nurses and docs milling around, I was wearing a neck brace, and was lying in the bizzaro trauma world. The kids were pretty freaked out. Dale was worse. I had to calm everybody down and tell them I was okay. Lily was fascinated, but Logan was really not pleased with the situation. I told him I got to ride in the ambulance, and he started to perk up. I'm so grateful for the spirit. I cannot tell you how many times I have known exactly what to say to that boy to keep him from totally falling apart. He started asking me questions about that, and I told him that there was a fire truck and firemen there, and he thought that was pretty cool. Then I told Dale to get the heck out of there, I was fine. He did.
Later, a friend was driving them to Danitra's house. Lily kept talking to her about the accident. Then Logan said, "We're not talking about mom anymore." End of conversation.
I got to ride in an ambulance and meet a bunch of firemen. That's cuz I got run over by a car.
Friday, July 25, 2008
and then I got run over by a car...the summary
Okay, so here's what happened. Dale and I have only one vehicle, and I had a meeting before YW at the church at 5:30. Sarah and Rebecca have activity day girls at 7:00, and there was a pediatric diabetes support group meeting at 6:30. We worked it out so that I would bike to the church at 5:30, Dale would drop the kids off at the church, and then he would head over to the support group at 6:30. Then he would come back to the church, switch the van for his bike, and go to his night job at 8:00.
So much for carefully laid plans. Dale made it to neither his meeting or work. I snapped on myh helmet cruised out of our neighborhood and pedaled to Lake Otis, which is a major street here in Anchorage. I approached a side street, and a car pulled out past the sidewalk attempting to turn right. I was traveling at a slow pace because Dale got in an accident about a year ago in a similar scenario. The car came to a complete stop, and I thought she saw me. Clearly she didn't, because when I was about a yard away from the intersection, she started to go. I braked hard with both hand breaks and flew over the top of the bike. It was so surreal. I kept thinking, "Oh my gosh. This same exact thing happened to Dale last year ! I really don't want to break my elbow like he did." Then the car ran over my head with the front tire and my chest with the back. I will post a picture of my helmet soon. It is unbelievable. It literally saved my life.
The whole time I was being run over, I kept thinking, "I wish this car would hurry up and finish running me over, because this really hurts." I may have been screaming; I can't remember that part. I never lost consciousness, and I think that is because the Lord knew that if I blacked out I would not have been forcing myself to breath. A lady who turned out to be a physicians assistant came running over immediately. She asked if I was ok, and I said no, call 911. I couldn't breath. There was blood running all over the pavement, but that was mostly from a bloody nose. Then a huge guy came running over and started to pick me up. I tried to protest, but I couldn't because I was struggling to even breath. The PA screamed at him for me and said not to move me. He said he just wanted to get me out of traffic and she snarled at him to go and divert traffic, then. The lady who hit me (Who turned out to be a friend of a friend) was in the background shaking and crying. It was terrible.
The fireman showed up in about 2 minutes, as I was less than 3 blocks from the hospital. The PA (who kept asking me questions to keep me awake) told the paramedics that I was 30 years old, not diabetic, and not allergic to anything. She then tries to give me a handful of twisted metal and glass. "Here's your glasses!" she said cheerfully. Then she realized how ridiculous that was (adrenaline is a funny thing!) and hastily said, "I'll just put them with your things!" The firemen cut off my backpack, helmet, and clothes and promised that they would get me covered very quickly. It's funny how the human mind works in moments of adrenaline. I'm laying naked and bleeding in the middle of the road and I couldn't care less. All I could think about was the fact that my mom gave me that outfit before she left for Mexico and I only got to wear it for about 15 minutes before it got cut off my broken bod.
The firemen were funny. They kept almost fighting with each other, like one of them would say, "We need to hurry, she's said more than once that she can't breathe!" and the other would say, "We know that! We're moving as fast as we can, okay? Give us a break!" The mother in me wanted to tell them to stop fighting, but again, my air was being used up by forced breathing and answering a billion questions.
Well, that's all for now. Typing is killer! I'll get some helmet pictures posted as soon as they get taken!
I was thinking about being on time to a meeting the other day and then I got run over by a car.
So much for carefully laid plans. Dale made it to neither his meeting or work. I snapped on myh helmet cruised out of our neighborhood and pedaled to Lake Otis, which is a major street here in Anchorage. I approached a side street, and a car pulled out past the sidewalk attempting to turn right. I was traveling at a slow pace because Dale got in an accident about a year ago in a similar scenario. The car came to a complete stop, and I thought she saw me. Clearly she didn't, because when I was about a yard away from the intersection, she started to go. I braked hard with both hand breaks and flew over the top of the bike. It was so surreal. I kept thinking, "Oh my gosh. This same exact thing happened to Dale last year ! I really don't want to break my elbow like he did." Then the car ran over my head with the front tire and my chest with the back. I will post a picture of my helmet soon. It is unbelievable. It literally saved my life.
The whole time I was being run over, I kept thinking, "I wish this car would hurry up and finish running me over, because this really hurts." I may have been screaming; I can't remember that part. I never lost consciousness, and I think that is because the Lord knew that if I blacked out I would not have been forcing myself to breath. A lady who turned out to be a physicians assistant came running over immediately. She asked if I was ok, and I said no, call 911. I couldn't breath. There was blood running all over the pavement, but that was mostly from a bloody nose. Then a huge guy came running over and started to pick me up. I tried to protest, but I couldn't because I was struggling to even breath. The PA screamed at him for me and said not to move me. He said he just wanted to get me out of traffic and she snarled at him to go and divert traffic, then. The lady who hit me (Who turned out to be a friend of a friend) was in the background shaking and crying. It was terrible.
The fireman showed up in about 2 minutes, as I was less than 3 blocks from the hospital. The PA (who kept asking me questions to keep me awake) told the paramedics that I was 30 years old, not diabetic, and not allergic to anything. She then tries to give me a handful of twisted metal and glass. "Here's your glasses!" she said cheerfully. Then she realized how ridiculous that was (adrenaline is a funny thing!) and hastily said, "I'll just put them with your things!" The firemen cut off my backpack, helmet, and clothes and promised that they would get me covered very quickly. It's funny how the human mind works in moments of adrenaline. I'm laying naked and bleeding in the middle of the road and I couldn't care less. All I could think about was the fact that my mom gave me that outfit before she left for Mexico and I only got to wear it for about 15 minutes before it got cut off my broken bod.
The firemen were funny. They kept almost fighting with each other, like one of them would say, "We need to hurry, she's said more than once that she can't breathe!" and the other would say, "We know that! We're moving as fast as we can, okay? Give us a break!" The mother in me wanted to tell them to stop fighting, but again, my air was being used up by forced breathing and answering a billion questions.
Well, that's all for now. Typing is killer! I'll get some helmet pictures posted as soon as they get taken!
I was thinking about being on time to a meeting the other day and then I got run over by a car.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
And then I got run over by a car.
Howdy! I know some of you have been anxiously waiting for me to get this blogged, and none more than I. Typing is actually quite painful, so I have to go in short bursts. For those who don't know, I got ran over by a car 2 weeks ago.
Jessica came to visit in me in the hospital a week ago Sunday, and it seemed like the end of every story was, "...and then I got ran over by a car." So that is how I'm going to end every story from here forward, cause, really, who else can say that? (I hope none of you...EVER.)
I'm having a hard time knowing where to start this post, especially since I can't really go back and do a lot of editing. Imagine that you have a cardboard box with a hole cut in the top for your head, kind of like you decided to be a pair of dice with your DH, but you forgot to cut the holes for your arms. That's what it's like for me right now. My range of motion is really that limited. I'm sore already after typing just these few paragraphs, so I'm going to have to come back to this later today. It is so frustrating. I know that I'm lucky that I'm alive, but it is really hard to sit her like an invalid and not be able to talk on the phone for hours or type because it HURTS.
For now the story just has to be this short: I was on my way to a meeting and then I got run over by a car. TTFN!
Jessica came to visit in me in the hospital a week ago Sunday, and it seemed like the end of every story was, "...and then I got ran over by a car." So that is how I'm going to end every story from here forward, cause, really, who else can say that? (I hope none of you...EVER.)
I'm having a hard time knowing where to start this post, especially since I can't really go back and do a lot of editing. Imagine that you have a cardboard box with a hole cut in the top for your head, kind of like you decided to be a pair of dice with your DH, but you forgot to cut the holes for your arms. That's what it's like for me right now. My range of motion is really that limited. I'm sore already after typing just these few paragraphs, so I'm going to have to come back to this later today. It is so frustrating. I know that I'm lucky that I'm alive, but it is really hard to sit her like an invalid and not be able to talk on the phone for hours or type because it HURTS.
For now the story just has to be this short: I was on my way to a meeting and then I got run over by a car. TTFN!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Happy, Happy Birthday, Lily Dear!
Sunday was Lily's birthday. She's FOUR!!! Can you believe it? I can't. Can you believe how cute she is? I can. Our kids are the cutest EVER.
Anyway, I always go overboard with parties. Lily's fourth was no exception. I made the cake using a cool pan my dad gave me--it is a Betty Crocker Bake 'n Fill, and it lets you fill your cake with different fillings: Ice cream, fruit and whipped cream, or in the case of the turtle, gooey green turtle guts made of pudding. (Maybe I should've made an armadillo...) We didn't get a picture of the middle because we gobbled the cake too fast! You'll have to use your imagination and remember I have the world's largest supply of green food coloring and I'm not afraid to mix it. Here are a couple of outside views of the cake: (Cute, huh?)
If you ever want to throw a party, I recommend doing so for a girl like Lily. She is so enthusiastic about EVERYTHING! I could have wrapped up a paper-towel roll and she would have shrieked with delight when she opened it. We got her "real" presents, though. The first was a DVD. Rebecca handed it to her and she said, in a nonchalant voice, "What kind of movie did you get for me?" It was hilarious. She was, predictably, thrilled with what it was, (even though she's never seen or heard of it...)
"HUUHhiheeeaawhh" I love this DVD!"
Other hits included an "America shirt!" I picked up at Wal-Mart for $2.88, (bargain shopping! Although Dale was annoyed because there was no AK or HI on it...) a cute "Princess GAME?!?", and a "WHINOCERWOUS WEBKINZ?!?" that Rebecca picked out for her. It's a rhino, it's retired, and it's really cute. I suggested the name, "Plasty", and she thought that was great, too! (take 10 points if you laughed. Minus 5 if you rolled your eyes.) 
The other kids got 3' gummy snakes. Carb-a-licious!
(t0 the tune of 160 grams/snake!)
"You knew what I was when you picked me up."(She love's the "Children" b-day song. It's a good thing I led the music in Primary yesterday--she would have had a meltdown if they would've had the audacity to sing, "You've had a birthday, shout HURRAY! She wouldn't even let us sing, "Happy Birthday" to her. We did our parade to a primary song. It works!)
'till next time, party fans, when we blow out five!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
