Four weeks in the hospital

Back in October, it was quite a shock as Jess suffered a surprise and very serious medical event. 

It was a Wednesday afternoon when I had just sat down after putting Elsie down for a nap when I got a call from a neighbor. “Jess has had an emergency at work,” I recall him saying, “His boss is going to call you.” Apparently, this neighbor friend is a mutual acquaintance and Jess’s boss didn’t have my phone number. I quickly received the second call, Jess’s boss explained, “Jess is being attended to by the paramedics. They have a couple of questions.” The phone was passed to said paramedics and questions like “What medications has Jess been taking?” My first thought was that Jess was dehydrated. He had ridden his trainer bike that morning and was then in a rush to get to work. But then the paramedic asked “Any trauma to the brain recently? Has he been in a car accident?” The question about being in a car accident threw me off. At that point I inquired, “What is happening with Jess right now?” The answer was a bit surprising, “We are attending to him,” the paramedic responded, “He is unresponsive.” I heard the words but still didn’t quite understand the seriousness of the whole thing. The paramedics and his boss were being so clear-headed and talked so calmly that my response to Jess’s boss after the phone was passed back to him was, “Do I need to come down to see Jess?” The answer was a very certain, “Yes. Meet us at the Emergency Room.”

My mind jumped to timing. Kids were to be home in an hour or two. Elsie was asleep. Now what. I called my friend across the street. No answer. I woke Elsie up and we got in the car. As I was driving my friend called back. I thanked her and explained, “Jess has had a medical event at work. I’m not really sure what is happening. Can you tell Ansel and Ian that I went to visit Jess at work once carpool drops them home from school? Can you have them over to your house?” “Of course,” she answered and then added, “I hope everything is okay! Can I take Elsie?” Since I was already in the car and asking so much from her already I thanked her for the offer but declined. Maybe having Elsie would help me keep my cool. I then texted Oliver using Siri, two hands on the wheel and looking in my rear view mirror, “I went to see Dad at work. I won’t be home when you get back from school.” It seemed so matter of fact, but it had to be. I had no idea what was happening with Jess. What caused this emergency? Why today? My mind continued to race with questions when I received another call. This time, another friend from the neighborhood, “I heard something’s happening with Jess.” Wow, word got out quick. “Can I take Elsie for you?” Only minutes from the first offer I had changed my mind. No two year old needs to be at the Emergency Room when her mother sees her father experiencing medical trauma. “I’m on the road,” I responded. “I’ll meet you,” my friend quickly retorted. I did a U-turn and headed to the gas station. Within minutes she pulled up. I handed Elsie to her with profuse thanks and assurance that I’d text her with more info as it came available. 

Jumping back into the car my mind raced. Keep calm. I repeated to myself over and over. Okay, what do I know? What do I need to be prepared for? What’s the next step? Keep calm. What caused this? What was his morning like? Where was he at work? Sounds like he had immediate care. He’s in the best hands right now. He’s getting all the attention he needs. Keep calm. During the 20+ minutes drive, Jess’s boss calls me to see how close I am. “Be there soon,” I reply. I pull up to the hospital. It’s an early afternoon on a weekday, the place is not busy. I enter the doors and see four men, all who work with Jess. “Can you explain what happened?” I say. 

They describe to me a regular lunch hour with Jess telling a story and then, mid-sentence, his head fell back and he passed out. They said he started to have difficulty breathing so they moved him down to the ground. 911 was called. Paramedics came. There was alarm. People were cool but panicked. Chest compressions were administered. “Whoa!” I thought to myself. The faces of the four men explaining to me what went down communicated the same exact thing. Whoa. 

I went back to see Jess in his ER bed. He was conscious. Yes! But he was hooked up to all the things. Nurses were circling. And he was doing various facial tics and looking, well, very out of it. I caught the Doc just as he was about to explain to Jess what they had determined had happened. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He saw me in his peripheral vision, then turned to me. We introduced ourselves. He followed with “your husband has had an aneurysm burst.” More whoa, but with it, some relief. Can you believe that dear reader? I was relieved he had had an aneurysm rupture! On my drive to the ER I had imagined the worst, a brain tumor, so when I heard the news I was so grateful. His suffering would be minimal. “We’re going to send him to a bigger hospital that has a Neuro unit,” the doctor continued, “He’ll need additional care. We’re going to make some calls to see where to send him. We’ll let you know as soon as possible. We want to move quickly with this.” I felt a little like I was on an episode of E.R., NBC’s Thursday night drama of the 90s, which I watched religiously with my mom from grades 10-12, at least. But the staff was not yelling “STAT” and no paddles were being used on any chests, still, Jess’s clothes had been cut off and I talked with him as any next of kin would. “You’ve had a brain aneurysm,” I explained. Jess couldn’t find but two words in his bruised brain to respond except, “Really?” and “Weird!” As calls were made, I sat next to Jess, and explained to him this concept three, four, five times. He had no memory of one minute to the next and the facial tics continued. The nurses came in, “He’s going to be transferred to IMC in an ambulance,” they explained, “it’s faster than a life flight. You’ll follow him to meet him there. He’ll be on the fifth floor.”

I told Jess’s colleagues the news. Their faces still read complete and utter “whoa” as I thanked them for the good care and attention Jess received from them. They headed back to work from the ER but I hope it was only to pick up their cars. I hope they took the rest of the day off. They were shook.

At the hospital I parked, entered and tried to go up to the fifth floor. Sorry, the Fire Fighters informed me, elevators, all four of them, broken. I tried the stairs but to enter floor five, I’d need a staff badge. Back down to the first floor I went. I asked a volunteer, the kindest man ever, if he could help me out. He took me to the staff elevators and up I went, directly to the Neuro ICU. The elevator door opened to a place I’d become very familiar with in the coming weeks, but at the moment felt very foreign. It was quiet. There was no one around. And when a few people passed me by, they didn’t ask me what I needed or who I was with because they assumed I knew what I was doing because I had come up the staff elevator. I walked around the place. I started to hear the beeping. Low tones, high tones, medium paced, and fast paced. Some continued and some stopped. Another beep started. I found someone. “I’m trying to find Jess Theodore.”  

I entered his room and found Jess sleeping. I sat. Staff tells me they’ve done some more imaging. The doctor comes in. It was all very timely and waiting around wasn’t happening, which I am so grateful for. Jess was getting care STAT. The doctor explained, “Jess is going to have a procedure. They are going to put coils in his brain.” I had questions. The doc answered every single one. Platinum coils would be placed intravenously into the aneurysm to stop blood from entering the bulging vessel. He then explained matter-of-factly, “When aneurysms rupture, 50 percent of the people die on the spot. Of the 50 percent of the people who don’t die, 50 percent are vegetables.” Jess was in the 25 percent. Whoa.“We’re going to treat your husband as best we know how. We are looking to keep his vasospasms controlled.” Vasospasms? More questions, more answers. In brief, vessels in the brain don’t appreciate when blood has leaked into the brain tissues because, as it starts to break down, it can irritate those vessels and caused them to contract. This is vasospasming. And when this happens, blood can’t flow successfully to the brain. “We’ll wait and see how it goes,” the doctor continued after drawing me a cartoon version of a coil placement on a whiteboard, “this whole experience can be a bit of a roller coaster. Good days and bad days. 21 of them. Hopefully, there will be more good days than bad ones. I’m just telling you how it is, okay?” Doctor R. was laying it all out and I appreciated that. I didn’t want any coddling. I wanted to know what to expect. I work better in those situations. I thanked him and then I began to wait. 

Jess was wheeled out of room 523 and off to get an angiogram and have the coils placed. If this didn’t work, nurses explained, he’d have to have open-head surgery to cut the aneurysm out. My words not theirs. I didn’t want that to happen so I crossed my fingers. It would probably take 2.5 hours. 

At about this time, people started showing up. I had called Jess’s mom, my dad, and my sister. I had texted my family. Jess’s mom his. Word spread like a wildfire. I was getting messages from everyone. Jess’s parents and brothers showed up at the hospital. My dad came. So did my sister-in-law. Our Bishop came. It was amazing, alarming, humbling, wonderful, and comforting all at the same time. It’s what I needed and I didn’t even realize it. People need people. We’re made to need each other. It’s God’s plan I think. And that day, that month, I (we) needed people and they showed up. 

The procedure was a success. “He has basically near 100 percent chance of never having an issue with this aneurysm again,” doctors assured me over the phone directly from the surgical room. “That’s wonderful!” I responded while my thoughts went off like cartwheels and back flips, fireworks and whistles. The aneurysm wouldn’t cause anymore problems! Now we had to focus on healing from the problems it did cause before the coils were placed. 

Nurses wheeled him back into his room. He was restful. Relief for him. Thank goodness. Later that day (or was it the next?), Jess woke up with questions. “So, um, what happened?” He didn’t remember a thing. He could recall going to work that morning and heading down to lunch, but after that, zero. I explained to him the events. He was having lunch and mid-sentence, while telling a story, his head fell back and he passed out. His coworkers were confused but realized something was wrong as soon as his breathing became labored. They moved him to the ground, called 911, and all the rest was explained. This was a story we went over numerous times (and still do now!). 

The next three weeks we’re filled with lots of monitoring. Jess had wires all over the place and both arms had IVs. They watched heart rate, oxygen levels, blood pressure, breathing patterns, vasospasm risks. There were blood draws, pills to swallow, cognitive tests to pass, movement checks, ultrasounds. He was filled with very salty fluids to keep vessel pressure levels high and chances of vasospasms low. His kidneys worked through those fluids and he would quickly urinate it all out. Still, they kept pumping it through him, bag after bag. For one 24 hour period, 24 liters went in and 25 liters came out. He had over 60+ meals in the ICU and therefore, memorized the hospital menu. 

All the while, he was getting therapy. His left leg below the knee wasn’t moving. His ankle and toes weren’t receiving signals from his brain and so the goal was to improve upon that. What’s more, his balance was off, so making sure he practiced nearly everything was key to getting back to functioning. Therapy was exceptional, and we really liked the Physical and Occupational Therapists. Nearly every single one of them had a tattoo related in some way to nature. Trees, birds, flowers, forests. These individuals liked the outdoors. So do we. We talked a lot about all the amazing things one can do in Utah. “Jess, let’s make sure we get you back to that,” they’d buoy him up. They were amazed at his strength and improvement over time. During this process, I could see how Jess’s brain would make progress. It was truly amazing to watch. One day it was 6 slow steps down the hall with the help of a hemi-walker (a cool sounding name for something not so cool looking) and a therapist. The next day, it was 10 steps with the hemi-walker. The next, let’s try a cane, forget the hemi-walker! Jess would tire out faster than I was used to seeing, and that was really the only way I knew he was working really hard. He made it look easy and he had grit. The improvements were very promising to me. Jess was a bit more guarded in his excitement, but I couldn’t help but to have hope in what I saw trending. There was improvement and it was fast. 

Cognitively, Jess was sharp. Only once or twice did I hear him get tripped up and when he did, he corrected himself.  This was a rarity in the aneurysm-bursting world and the doctors were pleasantly surprised. Speech Therapy involved therapists to come and ask him to repeat lists and solve puzzles. I’d silently try to do the mind exercises along with him. It was hard stuff and sometimes Jess recalled things better than me! “Do you want to continue with these visits?” the therapist would ask. “Sure, why not? It’s good to give my brain practice.” Early on, Jess would doze off mid-exercise. “Jess, stay with me,” the therapist would say loudly, “we’re almost done.” I’d try to help out, “Jess, she wants you to write the time 11:10 on the clock with your marker.” Jess would come out of it just enough to draw the hour and minute hand. He was so sleepy those early days. I’d come during my usual shift, 9:30-3pm (his parents had the 4-9pm shift), and we’d talk maybe 10 sentences total. As time went on, we’d talk more, laugh some. I knew Jess was feeling a lot better when we’d talk more and laugh a lot. 

During the time in the ICU, the kids could not visit Jess because 3 out of 4 of them are under 12, and though Oliver is 13, I felt like all of them should see Jess together. After 17 days, they got to visit him for about 15 minutes in the ICU waiting room. All masked up and hospital gowned, hooked up to IVs with a brace on his leg and supported by a Physical Therapist, Jess came out to meet them. Truth be told, there was happiness but also shock from the kiddos. I can’t exactly say how they were feeling, but I could see how it was kind of hard for them to approach him at first. Things were obviously different. But then they began throwing a ball together and I think it was one of the funnest PT sessions Jess had had or ever did have during his stay.

Quickly and amazingly, Jess improved. His young, athletic body was making a comeback. After 21 days, the blood had cleared out of the cranium and chances of vasospasms were nil. It was time to move to the 14th floor for acute therapy. Jess was relieved to be released from constant wires, bed alarms, and blood draws. Although those things saved his life, he began to feel quite hindered in his freedom and moving from the Neuro ICU was a refreshing change. 

The 14th floor was again, filled with exceptional staff who were helpful beyond measure. My shift was now 9am-12:15pm (his parents now 4-8pm) and usually during that time Jess was busy with some therapy be it Physical, Occupational, or Speech. He’d walk around obstacles, complete visual exercises, or try to multitask all to challenge his brain. One evening after he’d been there a few days, I received a text. “I can move my toes,” Jess said. Five words for something so huge. I could see the hope becoming greater for Jess. 

The progress he made during the next seven days was exceptional. He began looking better, sounding better, making even more jokes. His recovery was right on track. He was scheduled to go home the next day after four weeks in the hospital. A walking miracle!

At this time, Jess continues to go to outpatient therapy monthly. He walks without a brace, he has started working,  and he says that sometimes he forgets about the fact that he had something so major occur to him a little over three months ago. It is surreal to him, to me.

Jess will learn from this experience in a different way than I so I won’t speak to that. However, what I can say from my part in it all is that life is random, but at times it’s not, and maybe that’s not for me to totally figure out. One thing I can be sure of is that God’s love resides in people. We NEED each other, and boy did I feel that during this whole thing. Jess and our family had so much support. The thought and care that people showed was amazing, overwhelming, humbling, surprising, and inspiring. It made such a difference to us. Such a difference. What’s more, when other people couldn’t be there, like during a car ride to an ER on a fall afternoon when I hadn’t a clue of what exactly was happening to my bestest of all friends, I prayed to God to help me. Help me stay calm, clear-headed, and ready to handle what’s next. And God delivered. 

signs that you are getting older, part 3

As mentioned before, I often remember my mother saying she never felt older than 26.  She was in her fifties when she told me this and I was in my teens, so I could hardly comprehend what she really meant.  Her point, however, is becoming clearer and clearer as I get older myself.  I also recall my sister-in-law reminiscing about her college years, gushing like they were the best ever!  I was in college at the time and thought to myself, "Sure, college is good, but how could someone love it that much?" I now gush over memories of college.

Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying my current years.  This stage of life is cool, interesting, and indeed wisdom-building.  Regardless, I still feel about 23.  Yet, there are still outside clues to help me understand that I am not that age.  And with that, I build upon a two previous posts I did a few months back and give you more signs that you are getting older:

1. The Western Nut holiday gifts actually look tasty.
2. You drive three teens home from an activity and ALL of them sit in the back.
3. You like cranberry sauce.

signs that you are getting older, part 2

1. You go to your child's school office and check him or her out.
2. You start having conversations about your lawn, e.g. "Have you turned your sprinklers on yet?"
3. You ask kids what grade they are in at school.
4. You mistakenly call a 18 year-old neighbor his 15 year-old brother's name.
5. You now have several reasons to frequent Home Depot.

I think I swore to myself that I would never do anything like number 3 or 4, but just this last week, I was guilty of both.  And back when I was in college I really had no idea why there were so many Home Depot commercials on television.  Who is doing all that home maintenance/remodel stuff? I thought to myself.  Now I know.

Great TED talk on the benefits of stress

While I watched this talk, everything this woman said came together so well for me.  I am a believer in 1) the power of hormones [wow! those things are powerful little molecules], 2) the blessing of serving others, and 3) the strength of unity and empathy [which I truly think the natural man is here is to develop and refine].

Milk

While growing up, milk accompanied my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Our family drank a lot of milk.  My dad (who did most of the grocery shopping) would go to the grocery store and buy six gallons of the stuff, filling the top shelf of the refrigerator to capacity. It would take us a a bit more than a week to finish that off.  Did I mention I grew up in a large family?

We usually always had milk (see volume purchased on a regular basis above), but when we ran out, it was a food emergency.  We didn't have food emergencies much at our house.  There was always something to eat.  But if the milk ran out, what were we to do?  "Can you go to the store and buy more milk?" my mother would request a special trip be made.  My dad enjoyed his time in the evenings home from work and rarely interrupted that relaxation time with things to do (except fix cars, repair appliances, mow the lawn - see large family comment above), but he always hurried to the store when we were out of milk.  Hardly a second went by without the stuff.  And if I were hungry right before bedtime my mom would reply, "You can always have some milk."

I am who I am today partially due to milk.  And now my own little family drinks milk like no tomorrow.  Oliver and Ansel both down the stuff.  I drown my cereal in it.  Jess likes it too on cereal; and he eats a lot of cereal.  So whenever we run out of milk, we have a similar emergency.  But I don't like running to the store all that much, and I'm a bit more selfish, so I make my kids drink water with their breakfast.  Jess has toast.  I make frosting with water (not good), and if the kids are hungry before bed, it's water.  However, if more than a day goes by without the stuff it's rough.  So I get to the store and buy two gallons, which we will finish within a bit more than a week.

Any food with the word "dump" in it is unfortunate

Is it just me or does the name "dump cake" discourage you from ever wanting to try a dump cake no matter how good it looks?

Perspective and vulnerability

It is alarming how quickly my perspective on life, what's most important to me, what I'm concerned about changes.  Like a fierce wind, switching this way and that, my priorities are whipped around constantly and it's exhausting.

Deep down, I know what is most important, my foundation is sure, but then I get caught up in the everyday.  It seems to have a pull on me that I don't like.  I want to be even-keeled.  I don't want things to knock me this way and that.  I want to improve because I want to be a better person.

Lately, situations have happened and controlling my reaction to them has been more work than what I would have expected.  I thought I was tough and had it together, and in someone ways I do.  But I need to be more together, more secure, more focused on the good instead of surface issues.  I want to have the wisdom, the perspective, the concern of a 60 year old. 

I feel like my main problem may be selfishness.  This seems strange to me since I am a mom and nearly every moment is spent giving to others.  But the point is, I guess, I am doing it all without complete love because I am caught up in way too many other lame things.  

Plus, the other day I was asked what I do to relax.  I couldn't think of an answer. I rarely relax.  I know this is not uncommon, but I find I need to physically and mentally.  Study? Art? Exercise? Music?  Probably a bit of all of the above.

Overall, I need to remember I'm rich with goodness all around me.  There is love filling my cup and it's full. The problem is, I'm only sipping from it. 

Look, I am rich. Ollie made this cash today, along with a 1,000,000 cent coin.

Coupons

Am I the only person out there who can't seem to master the art of coupons?  Don't get me wrong, I have tried. I've wanted to be a coupon lady, saving money is in my nature, but I always come up short. 

"This coupon is expired."

"You have to buy five of these rather than four to get the 75 cents off."

"Oh, sorry, you've got to get the 18.5 oz size to get the discount."

"This coupon only works on Wednesdays during the fifth week of the month." 

Really?!?

A while back, I decided to bag the coupon saving and rely on in-store deals.  Same thing happened.  I'd try to buy five boxes of cereal in order to get a $5 dollar gift card; except, it never seemed to work out that way.  I could never buy the right combination of cereal to get five bucks.

Is saving some cents really that difficult?  Is everyone getting fooled into buying things that they think will save them money, when really, in the long run, they have spent more than they would have otherwise?  Or am I just not able to hack it?  Probably, hopefully (for my sake), it's a little bit of both.

A pick me up

I've made a goal to pick up less, which seems like a travesty, but in this case, a needed travesty.  I remember being a teen and going to some of my older sibling's family homes.  They'd have toys strewn about and I was kind of surprised at the mess (the house was clean, but the house not picked up). I realize now why: they had toddlers.  I kept our apartment in DC fairly organized and straight, picking up every toy or book mess quickly (folding the laundry is another story).  But now that we live in a bigger space and Oliver and Ansel do several activities a day (one of which is taking all books off the bookshelf - I'm looking at you Ansel), I can't keep up with it.  Well, the truth is, I can keep up with it, but that is what I would be doing all day and that is what I have been doing until now. I need a break.  And so I leave the pickup for the evening.  And if some blocks are still out at 9pm, I let it go and I don't think about it again.  Until the next evening, when I feel I should pick it up.  But then again, I've heard any statement that begins with "should" is not healthy, so maybe I should let that go too.  Whoops, there I go again.

Book Review: I Feel Bad About My Neck

I recently picked up Nora Ephron's humorous book, I Feel Bad About My Neck.  It seems that Nora didn't take herself too seriously and her style was easy going.  I like a good laugh and this book did the trick.  While I believe her intended audience was older women, it still was quite entertaining.  And I felt young, which is never a bad thing.  The chapters I liked the most discussed parenthood verses parenting, New York real estate, and missing favorite foods that have been lost to a closed bakery/cafe/restaurant.  This brought me to think of some of the foods I yearn for every now and again but are gone.

When Macaroni Grill was new to the scene, my family went every now and again.  We liked the place, a lot.  And since my mom had pretty much given the kibosh to Olive Garden (during one visit, it took twenty minutes to seat us when there were more than ten tables available - which I have since learned was no fault of the restaurant itself but the time of day and number of staff on the premises - but I digress), Macaroni Grill was our new spot.  Plus, that focaccia bread was way better than any bread stick.  I always ordered a dish that I loved there, the chicken calzone.  The dipping sauces made the dish: one was a balsamic vinegar reduction and the other, a caesar dressing-like aioli.  I lived for the dipping sauces, savored each bite, used up every bit of both.  And then one day, I got my plate and the balsamic reduction sauce was missing.  I kindly informed the waiter of the mistake when he informed me that they no longer served the calzone, or any dish for that matter, with that specific sauce.  Later came the blow that the calzone was no longer on the menu.  But, as luck would have it, I could still special order my favorite dish even if it did only come with the caesar sauce.  And then finally, the restaurant decided to no longer serve it.  And then I put the kibosh on Macaroni Grill.

Still, the most memorable food I miss on a regular basis is the ZCMI chocolate chocolate doughnut.  This delicious dessert was the pinnacle of the cake doughnut world for me.  I savored every bite and was known to spend my own 54 cents + tax on one, which was pretty much a miracle seeing as I held tight to my money and hardly spent a dime.  This doughnut was large and plump, with hardly a hole in the middle, topped with light brown, made-with-butter frosting that wasn't too chocolatey and thus allowed for the flavor of the cake doughnut to meld well with, instead of be taken over by, the frosting.  It was kept refrigerated inside a glass case at the little side bakery attached to the department store, and served a bit cold then slowly warmed as you enjoyed it bite by bite.  We'd make special trips to get one.  Then one day we went to get a doughnut and the bakery had been turned into a knick-knack shop.  We had hardly a warning!  The sweet bakery lady was gone.  Loaves of sourdough and cracked wheat were replaced with games you'd never heard of and super-soaker water guns.  The pastry glass case had stopped refrigeration and now held magnetic curiosities and swinging pendulums.  Our doughnuts ceased to exist.  Then ZCMI got bought out and part of my childhood was whisked away with it.  I tried to find the doughnut downtown at a bakery possibly owned by the same people who did the original doughnut, but I was never successful.  Since then, I've had several chocolate chocolate doughnuts, wishing, hoping that another bakery could get close to what I've enjoyed before.  But no luck.  And so I stick with the yeast-risen doughnuts and enjoy them a lot.  But the cake doughnut is up against all odds, a grand contender, a doughnut I miss and pine for especially on overcast, fall days.

Do you have a special food you miss?  Nora Ephron's was cabbage strudel and she ended up, after years of searching, finding the very food she had gone without all that time.

Here's to Mothers Day

My mother was exceptional in every sense of the word.  And I find myself trying to emulate her when I parent.  I think of her often and recall the joy she found in being a mom.  It came first and foremost and then she did other things.  I find that joy, too, in being a mother.  It is magical.

I often say to Oliver and Ansel, "How did I get so lucky to get two great boys?" To which Oliver responds, "Just because!"

I love this pic because it shows me doing what moms do: watch their children explore the world and discover new things everyday, lending a helping hand when needed (in this instance it was taking Ansel out of the cold water when he stood in it too long and didn't know what to do).  This exploration continues throughout adulthood and moms continue to lend that helping hand, finding the balance between letting the child learn on their own and assisting them along the way.  It is a balance that takes patience and discipline and a little worry.  But it sure is amazing to watch a child successfully venture into and through this world/life. And I hope to give my kids some of the skills/tools to enjoy it.

Finding good doctors

I just got off the phone with Oliver's old pediatrician's office in Maryland.  We need vaccination records so I requested them.  The person answered the phone quickly, heard my request, got information, and found the records, then took my address and said she'd place them in the mail.  All of this in less than four minutes.  If all care and service were this good! (One of my past pediatrician experiences involved written paperwork and 3-4 weeks processing time plus a fee to get medical records. It was over the top.)

I loved this pediatrician and everyone that worked at the office. I loved it because there was only one pediatrician, one nurse, one front office lady and they remembered us (or did a good job acting like they did). They were so kind, patient, and very knowledgeable.  Every question I asked the doctor was treated with equal concern, regardless of how lame my question or the amount of time the doctor had.  You could tell the doctor enjoyed his job and knew the most up-to-date medical knowledge.  He was excellent.

We have a good pediatrician now, but how I wish we could still go to the superb one we had in Maryland.  

Finding a good doctor is like discovering a treasure.  It takes work but the reward is worth it.  Sometimes you never find the treasure and you live with what you've got, but, if you are like me, you always want better.  I have had a small handful of good versus excellent doctors and boy, excellent doctors sure make a difference!  I may sound a bit picky with very high standards and, well, that is true.  But I think that's okay.  Cheers to all of those good doctors out there. 

To lean back or not to lean back

We recently look at trip as a family. It was a splendid time, complete with sandy beach days to kayaking in the open ocean. More on that later. But first, to get there, we had to take a plane. And thankfully, the plane ride was very smooth considering we have two children who like to be up and doing things. Oliver was very happy with a gift that grandma gave him before the flight: ABC stencils (who knew a child could be entertained by a set of stencils for over 6 hours? Plus, he is still using them as I am typing this very post). And Ansel slept a good bit and was entertained by toys fairly easily. We had nothing to complain about.

But this very trip prompted a conversation between Jess and me. A conversation about leaning chairs back in airplanes. There are two types of people in this situation: (1) those who lean their chairs back and (2) those who do not.

I am in the second camp. I never lean my chair back. I feel bad about doing so and therefore never do it. The place is pretty small anyway, and if I lean my chair back that lessens the space for the person behind me by about, what is it? Like 10 millimeters? And if the person behind me is a person who does not lean their chair back, then they are really going to be feeling it like I have, on numerous flights, because, like I said before, I never lean my chair back.

Then there are those who lean their chair back. They bought the ticket. They have the right to 10 more millimeters of comfort and they are going to take it. In fact, there are those who really can't wait to get that space. They lean that chair back the very minute the captain comes on and says, "We have reached so-many-thousand feet." They do it quick and settle right in, adjusting their bodies into the most comfortable position that the extra millimeters has allowed them and continue to snooze throughout the flight. Then there are others who try to lean their chair back slowly and as kindly as possible, as if to say, "Hey you back there, I'm sorry about this but I kind of want to be comfortable. And you know, you can lean back too if you want to. Again, I apologize." They may even lean that chair back in seemingly unnoticeable increments of 3 millimeters each. And then there are those who are not apologetic at all. In fact, they kind of tease you with the lean back. They decide to lean their seat way back, trying to push it beyond the 10 millimeters, to will it beyond the 10 millimeters. But no matter how far the chair goes back, they refuse to lean their body back and settle in. No, they eat a snack or play a game or type on their computers or talk all while sitting straight up. Leaving a void in that 10 millimeters. A void of suffering for the person behind them. A void of mockery for them.

This leads me to the two types of responses a person can have when a person has pushed their chair back. But I will leave that for another time.

7:45am around here and other notes

November is whizzing by us.  With these beautiful 60+ degree days, it is just so pleasant.

These brothers are playing together more these days, even at 7:45am.  Very fun and neat to watch.

And in other news, I watched a documentary on JFK last night and I finally, yes finally, get the difference between The Bay of Pigs incident and the Cuban Missile Crisis.  Let's just say I am not a history scholar and it is a wonder I passed the AP History exam.  I am learning more about history now more than ever.  I guess high school was not the best environment to learn history, my least favorite subject.  Amidst reading, biology, math, and social dealings; history took a back seat.  I mean, a fifteen passenger van back seat.  But I feel like I am catching up, one history book and program at a time.

And what's on your Thanksgiving recipe list this month?  I am eagerly looking for a good roll recipe.  Of all my time spent baking, rolls have been neglected.  And I am assigned to bring them to the festivities this year!  Of course, we will also be making our (little family's) beloved cranberry sauce.  And I have made a couple of iterations of pumpkin bread already.  Plus, green beans with almonds and butter are another favorite.  But first, rolls.  I need a recipe for rolls.

And has anyone been watching The Paradise on Masterpiece?  We've been taking in each episode week by week and I am always wishing there was more to the story.  But we keep watching and enjoying.  Not the best series, but entertaining all the same.

And with that, I hope your November is going well.

Folding

Some days, you feel like a machine.  These are days when you get 25 things done, and 10 of them were all done simultaneously.  You are a mega-multitasker and there is no denying it.  In fact, you are kind of surprised by yourself.  Then you realize that you can only pull this kind of performance off for one day and that's about it.  You need a rest.  Oh, but wait, the laundry is not yet folded.  I don't think I will ever get that done even if I really were a machine.

On hosting

I've recently met some individuals who have hosted their fair share of parties, get-togethers, and book clubs.  I can tell in the way they throw a gathering.  The decorations are abundant, the place settings and tables placed perfectly, the serving dishes are always complimentary for the accompanying food, and the food.  Oh the food!  It is always well thought out with always more than one dish or side or treat that compliments the meal, the activity, even the season.  And how in the world do they calculate how much to make?  I don't know, but they are right on the money most times with some extra left over. Which I have learned (the hard way) is better than having too little.

When I go to meetings to plan some of these activities, I sit back and rarely talk.  Which, if you know me, is rare.  I'll pipe up when volunteering to make caramel popcorn, for instance, but its all I can do from feeling somewhat bad for hardly adding anything to the mix.  But I consider these meetings gems. I am learning what people like and what key things are needed to make a party successful.

I am hardly the perfect host, but I must say that learning from these ladies is helping me feel more secure about the possibility of hosting.  And that's a step in the right direction.

And as a side note, one of these ladies has a husband who is currently climbing Mount Everest.  Sometimes I feel like I am living in the Twilight Zone.  I told the lady, jokingly, that I had never heard of Mount Everest, I was so taken aback when I heard what she said.  She looked at me like I was in the Twilight Zone.  Note to self: don't use sarcasm when somebody hardly knows you.  Or don't use sarcasm at all.  Maybe I need social conversation tips as well as hosting tips.

Poor Gluten

These days gluten sure is getting a bad rap.  It's kind of the food trend of the moment.  Don't get me wrong, I know that gluten doesn't agree with some people's stomachs, and celiac disease can really torment the few (I know some individuals who really don't mess around when it comes to gluten), but eating gluten every now and again shouldn't be all that bad for most of us.  The other day at the entrance of the grocery store I saw a sign for the Gluten Free Expo.  The sponsors were grocery stores that I am assuming are loving gluten-free food popularity.  What's more, gluten-free foods that have always been gluten-free are now advertising it on the package.  On milk, canned tomatoes, rice cereal, almonds - there below the product name are the words "GLUTEN FREE"!  I like to bake homemade bread, so I love gluten, and maybe that is what's gotten me on my high horse.  I just wonder when (or if) this whole thing will die down.

Hey you in the coupe, lighten up...

What if we chose our friends based on how people looked while driving a car?

The answer: We'd have no friends.

People look so serious, so intense, (can I go as far as saying) so mean while driving.  Have you noticed this?  Take a look at your fellow drivers the next time you drive in a car.  You'll see what I mean.  And, no, I don't think I am immune to this syndrome. I am sure, almost certain, that I look way intense, in fact I probably have a scowl on my face when I drive.

But back to my original question, how would you go about choosing who you'd be friends with if you were to base it on the driving face?  I've seen some very nice people, people who I consider quite friendly and delightful, look quite sinister behind the wheel.  And the look seems to get ever more serious when drivers turn.  They do that lean to one side as they turn and it is very serious business.  Very serious. 

I'd be friends with the dude drumming on the wheel.  But to tell you the truth, I haven't seen that in a very long time.  Maybe I'd be friends with the girl who's singing at the top of her lungs.  Again, doesn't happen  often.  Then there are the people eating a burger/cone/beverage (of the non-alcoholic variety of course).  That makes them seem nicer.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe it makes them seem less robot and more human (or more like a slob).  Still, I'd steer clear of the texter, the phone user, and especially the car arguer.  Their problems concerning friendships (not to mention that none of them is safe) respectively are, lack of eye contact, lack of attention, and lack of communication skills.  And then there's the person that stares you down as you pass them.  Now that's a bit intimidating.  "I'm sorry, you're going 60 and I want to go 68.  No hard feelings, okay?"

If looking at the face while driving can't help us out, maybe the car model or car sticker or license vanity plate could steer us in the right direction.  Hmm, probably not.

ah, dumb phone

I don't need a smart phone, at least not yet.  I know my personality, and I would probably waste a bit too much time on it.  Did I ever mention that when email was introduced, I checked my email account ALL OF THE TIME?  It was exhausting.  This leads me to a short anecdote: The other day my brother came over to my house.  He saw Jess' phone (an iPhone 5) sitting on the counter and then mine (an old Samsung), after which he exclaimed, "If Jess has a smart phone, then what do you call yours, Ash?  A dumb phone?" The answer is yes. 

Here are the top 6 reasons you know you have a "dumb phone":

- only four app icons could fit on the screen, that is, if apps could be put on it
- your bro-in-law goes to use it and touches the small (see above) screen to scroll down, nothing happens
- the keyboard slides out
- texts do not come in conversation bubbles, they come in 160 character segments
- photos are the quality of a 7/eleven surveillance video
- your 16-year-old nephew sees your phone and says, "Oh, you've got the free phone."

So until I get a smart phone, my dumb phone will have to do.  And I'm okay with that.

p.s. I came up with this list whilst up in the night feeding the little one.  It's interesting the things you think about at 2am. 

Why I like blogs

I like to joke with Jess that the only thing I really do on the Internet is pay bills, check email, and read blogs. YouTube sometimes, Facebook rarely (through his account), Hulu, google maps, the occasional recipe, amazon.com. Okay, okay, I use the Internet a lot. But I think I'd have to say that although the age of blogs seems to be disappearing (I hear twitter and Facebook are rising in popularity as blogs are decreasing), I like them the best.

A blog is a medium that enables a person to share insightful stories that we wouldn't know about otherwise. Sure, we could maybe hear about an inspiring story on a talk show, but then we get the account in brief snippets of only the most astonishing facts when the lessons learned and the resiliency of the people are left in the dust. That's why I like blogs, they go deeper because the person who experienced the thing is writing the words. Plus, I get to read normal stories that aren't talk show material but are just as important to life in general. And, unlike the news, blogs are mostly positive. But that doesn't mean that people don't share hard things. On the contrary, instead, people share their hard thing and then they divulge what they've learned from it. And I've always been someone who learns from others, so this takes my learning to a whole new cyber-level.

I also like that the views are fresh, the humor is good, and that the people blogging are real people doing good things. Not all blogs are like this, but the ones I read are. Still, don't get me wrong, I recognize the bad things about blogs, but overall I feel like in them exists a place where people are trying to be better and do better and I am definitely a fan of that.

Now I am not quite sure if my blog does any of those things. And sometimes I wonder if people who read this and don't know me (that would be exactly 2 readers, ha) think I am a little...curious. Of course, our blog selves (and our Facebook and twitter selves, etc.) are certainly no replacement for a face-to-face interaction. Still, it is my hope that you come away from this space saying, "Well, that was interesting/funny/worth my 54 seconds."

What do you think about blogs? Why do you like them? What makes you read them? Pseudo heat sensitive photos? That's what I thought.