Things I'm Thinkin' 'Bout

1. This is right next to the most adorable thing I've ever seen:



and fyi, this is NOT how Austen reacts to being fed. When I feed Austen, he walks over, looks at his food and then at me as if to say "Mum, do you fink I'm gonna eat that rubbish?" (remember, my dog has a tough British accent) Then, he moves his food one kibble at a time to the other side of the rug and then MAYBE, if I'm lucky he eats it(If I'm not lucky I step on soggy dog food with my bare feet.).

2. For eleven years I've told my students, "Pick up that backpack. I don't want to trip and fall." or "Push in that chair, I don't want to trip and fall." It's just one of those things you say as a teacher, I don't think I ever really thought I'd ever trip and fall. Well, no more. Last week I did exactly that, and in case you're wondering, yes. I was wearing a skirt. Yes. It flew up. No. I didn't die of embarrassment. Yes. I did hurt myself. My left foot to be exact. Yes. That left foot. No. It's not broken, just really bruised and painful.

It was one of those moments when I realized, once again, how happy I am to teach the kids I do. At either of my previous schools that story would have circled the school twice by the time school was done for the day. At mine? Not a single kid mentioned it ever again. Maybe the whole skirt flying up, visible teacher's underwear experience was so emotionally disturbing, that they all silently agreed to never speak of it again. One can hope.


3. Two weeks ago, there was an episode of Glee guest starring.... wait for it..... Neil Patrick Harris and directed by Joss Whedon. Does life get any better than that? Maybe for other people, but for me? Not really. (I am one sad spinster.)

4. Next Wednesday my sisters Jennifer and Christy, and my niece Alyssa are coming to stay with for for a few days. I'm so excited that I can hardly stand it. I'm planning our activities and clearning out the guest room for them. Austen's very excited, or he would be if he understood anything that I say to him.

5. I'm in the middle of buying a home for the first time in my life. I've put it off for various reasons including mind numbing fear at the thought of that much debt and the desire to move away from Las Vegas, but I made some realizations. 1. I'm not getting out of here until the economy improves. 2. Housing prices in Las Vegas are currently ridiculously low. 3. Might as well own if I'm going to stay here for awhile.

I have an accepted offer right now, but it's a short sale at it's going to take awhile and the bank could turn the offer down. I'm trying to be patient. We'll see how it goes.

6. Another video that puts my dog parenting to shame:



I'll bet that dog doesn't put down his ears and crawl into his owner's lap when given a command. Hmmmph.

7. Summer is three short school days away.

It's a Long Way From Your Heart.

My dad isn't big on sympathy. This has a lot to do with being raised by two no nonsense parents on a family farm, but more to do with his super human pain threshold. The man has suffered more physical pain than 10 people put together, and he has never, ever, let it stop him. As an adult, I can understand why these two things have short circuited his sympathy receptors. As a child.....notsomuch.

Growing up, if my siblings or I got hurt in some way and came up to him (or, to be honest, Mom who was generally sitting near him) crying and holding our injuries, we were told to "stop your blubbering. It's a long way from your heart." The other, even less comforting response, given most often when he was feeling a little more irritated and/or obnoxious was: "we could always amputate at the neck." I know it will shock you, but as a child I never found either of these responses overly comforting. Have you ever tried to stop your blubbering mid blubber? It's not as easy as you might think. And amputation at the neck? Even as a very small child I was pretty certain he was kidding, but......

Now that we're adults we laugh about it, often using either of these catch phrases as a short hand explanation for our adult behavior. For instance, after spending nearly 24 hours in excruciating pain before heading to the emergency room, I could quickly explain why I hadn't considered my condition serious: "I figured it was a long way from my heart."

When I arrived and they asked me to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10 (which is the most idiotic thing ever. Hmmmmmmm. I'm doubled over and crying from the pain in my abdomen, and you want me to choose which sad face best resembles what I'm feeling? Really??) I said "Uh, eight?" and the nurse rolled her eyes at me and said, "You're at a 10." Well, if she KNEW, why did she ask me? Huh? I mean, ask a stupid question....


On a side note: My dad had a massive heart attack a few years ago right before Christmas. It was terrifying, but after it was clear that he was going to make it all of us kids admitted to each other that we'd each been tempted to tell him to suck it up 'cause "it's a long way from your heart." I don't know that he'd have found it as funny as we did.

Why do I bring this up? Well, the other night as I was chopping lettuce for a Chinese Chicken Salad to take to a work potluck, I cut the heck out of my thumb. It was a little like this:



It took several bandaids, nearly an entire roll of toilet paper, and a lot of swearing to finally get the bleeding under control (I think it was the swearing that finally did it). Once it stopped bleeding through multiple bandaids in a matter of seconds I decided I'd be fine. I mean, it was a long way from my heart, and so what if my thumb had developed a pulse so pronounced I could both see and feel the blood pumping to the injury site?


(2 days post-chop.)


When I spoke to my sister Christy later that night she asked me if I had considered going to Urgent Care to make sure it didn't need stitches. I told her, "Pffft! It's a long way from my heart. If it's still bleeding profusely tomorrow I'll go."

I know this makes me sound super tough, but down deep I think I might have been afraid they'd decide to amputate at the neck.

Mission accomplished Dad. Mission accomplished.

Look Ma! Two feet!!

My doctor's visit went well, my foot's healing, everthing's in the right place, and my doctor told me I could start trying to walk without the boot.

He gave me three rules:

1. No Running.
2. No Jumping.
3. No Falling. (Wah wah wah!)

When we left the office my mom and I decided to go to Target, 'cause why wouldn't we? She dropped me off at the door and I took my first non-booted steps. It felt like I was walking on a marshmallow, a magical, pain shooting marshmallow.

Yesterday I was able to walk without the boot through my first three class period, but by the end of 6th period I was hurting. Last night was also our AVID Awards Night, and I didn't want to wear jeans, so I put on a skirt, tights and flats and went with out the boot. It was probably too much, but I looked cute, so I felt like it was worth it.

I came home and put on the boot, frantically cleaning and packing for my trip to Utah this weekend for Mother's Day. Let me tell you a little something about me: When I get into a cleaning jag I become single minded. Let me tell you a little something else: Because I switched from shoe to boot midday I brought my left tennis shoe home in a Trader Joe's bag along with my water bottles and lunch stuff.

Sooooooooo to make a long story short, I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until I had three bags of trash to take out. Although I was tired and my foot was hurting, I clomped down my stairs with three bags of trash narrowly avoiding rule #3.

On my way back from the dumpster, my neighbor congratulated me "Good job girl! Next you'll be running a marathon!" I felt all warm and fuzzy.

Later that night after I'd taken a bath and removed my boot I started to lay out my clothes for today and realized I couldn't find my left shoe. I searched everywhere, finally realizing that the Trader Joe's bag was no where to be found. "Where in the world did I put the...."

Oh.

Poopy.

I threw it away.

In the dumpster.

Downstairs.

So, because I was tired and couldn't stomach the idea of putting the boot back on I gimped my way downstairs with wet hair and no bra and jammies to pull my trash out of the dumpster to search for my missing shoe.


I got down there only to realize that the dumpster was nearly empty which meant that unless I had developed super human reach, broke rule #2, or both, I couldn't reach my garbage sacks.

I didn't feel warm and fuzzy. Instead I felt sweaty and prickly as I thought:

Oh

Poopy.

I have to go upstairs, get the step ladder, gimp back down here, and THEN pull trash out of the dumpster to find my shoe.

And that's what I did.

By the time I got back to my apartment with my shoe but without some of my dignity, my foot felt like it was on fire.

At least I didn't

Run
Jump, or
Fall.

THAT would have been bad.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

1. The Good: My students participated in a Socratic Seminar on Elie Wiesel's Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech today, and for the most part they did so well it made my teacher heart grow three sizes too big. One boy came up with two of the most complex, beautiful and applicable analogies to explain an important concept I have ever heard and caused me to think about Wiesel's words in a new light. Of course I had one group that decided that instead of having an open dialogue that they would fight for the sake of fighting and ignore my repeated warnings. I yelled. But the good thing is, I was able to calm down and give them constructive criticism when all was said and done.

2. The Bad: My doctor's appointment originally scheduled for tomorrow in Mesquite, NV has been rescheduled for NEXT Wednesday in St. George Utah. This is bad for a couple of reasons. a)It's another week before I can ask my doctor any questions or find out how long I need to wear this boot or how I'm coming along, and b)it's a further drive and a change in time zones. I'm going to have to leave school early, and even though it won't cost the district one thin dime (my prep period is last on Wednesdays) I'm going to have to take a half a day.

3. The Ugly: I attempted to make a banana cream pie from scratch today. I've never made a custard before and it ended up the texture of soft rubber and the color of sludge. It didn't taste bad (so I'll try it again), but it was a strange texture and it was UGGGGLLLLY.

Missing m'boy

(*not Austen)

When my doctor first told me I'd be off my feet for 6 weeks I imagined jumping right back into life after six weeks with my foot up.

Reality has been a bit different.

Part of the difference between expectation and reality came when I was staying with my sister Christy and realized that I wouldn't be able to go up and down the stairs the 3-4 times (beyond going to and returning from work) necessary to take care of Austen. Luckily Christy is wonderful and was willing to let me leave my boy until I could take care of him on my own.




Now I miss that little turkey. I come home and it's so quiet and lonely. I got used to having people around, so the loneliness is harder than usual, but no Austen?? Talk about adding injury to insult.


So here I am missing him, and he's in hog heaven at her house. She has a yard, a dog door, an almost unlimited supply of dog toys, and best of all Brie:



the proud owner of half of Austen's brain (which is only fair since he owns half of hers). So, while I'm looking forward to his return, I'm sure he's not.


Luckily he's wearing out his welcome at Christy's





(*Christy assures me that the look of shame was staged. You can't make this dog feel bad.)

If this is what he does with a yard and two dogs to play with, what's he going to do when he comes back home??

Oh my goodness, imagine the carnage.

Expectations so low you can step right over them...without crutches

I've been walking sans crutches or anything else since midway through the school day Friday. It's exciting and makes it much easier to do REALLY crazy exciting things like carry a stack of papers across the room. I'm really happy that I'm progressing, and it's exciting to realize that someday I will be able to walk normally again.

That being said, the reaction of my students and colleagues has been a little unexpected.

For instance: In 5th period I walked to the front of my classroom to write something on the board and one of my students exclaimed "You're walking without your crutches!" and then the class broke into applause. Seriously.

At lunch I walked into Mary's classroom where the English department eats together. One of my colleagues said, "You're walking without crutches! Good job!"

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the encouragement, but it felt a little like the kind of praise you give a toddler after their first wobbly steps or big girl poopy in the potty.



But, hey! I guess I shouldn't complain. I usually have to do a LOT more to impress these people.

Count your many blessings, name them one by one...

I know it's been a long time since I've posted, but I didn't think anyone wanted to read a daily post that read something like this: "I woke up today, put on my walking cast, watched daytime tv and then took a nap. Oh, and my foot hurts."

I didn't want someone who just happened by my blog by chance to think he/she was reading the ramblings of an 80 crippled woman: "Today I tried to go shopping at Stater Brothers, but all of the darn sit and shops were taken, so I had to go sit in the car. Ooof, my back hurts!"

But now I've been back home and at work for a week and a half, so I thought I'd better post something before you all quit coming by.

The past two months have been frustrating and painful, and it's easy to focus on the negative aspects of breaking a bone and being unable to take care of myself.

Despite (or because of) all of that, this past Sunday as we sang "Count Your Many Blessings" for the closing hymn in Sacrament Meeting I found my eyes filling with tears as I really felt (perhaps for the first time) what the words of that hymn were saying.

So, here goes, a list (incomplete and in no particular order) of the blessings I've recieved because I broke my foot:

1. I'm learning that I don't need to do everything myself. I'm a single girl, and have been for 35 years. Those in the same boat know what I'm talking about. In order to survive you have to get self sufficient. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it can make it hard to accept help and ask for the help you need. When you can't walk or carry anything for over a month you need help and you need to ask for it. It seems stupid to think of having people waiting on you as a bad thing, but trust me-- it's not as fun as you think. My lowest point was probably at Target with my mom when I went (in the sit n shop) to the snack bar to get myself a Diet Coke. I took a corner too sharply, almost took out a table, and sent Diet Coke and ice in every possible direction. My mother came up behind me and said, "So, how did that work for you? You don't need to do this yourself!" And she was right. My mom and later my sister Christy were more than happy to help me, I just needed to be willing to ask.

2. I've learned to be grateful for the things I HAVE rather than focusing on what I LACK. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's ever cried about the myriad ways in which my life is different than I'd planned. When I lost the ability to walk--something I'd never even considered to be a blessing--I realized all of the things I've been blessed with.

3. My mom and dad. My mom and dad took me and my puppy in and loved us even though we sent their lives into disorder. My parents gave up their bedroom (the only one on the main floor: I couldn't do stairs), their routine, and their peace and quiet (Austen's loud), not to mention that one dining room chair (Sorry! Austen feels really really bad about that...maybe).

4. My sister Christy. When Mom and Dad couldn't take care of me because of prior commitments she took me in, bringing me water and Diet Coke whenever I wanted, and keeping my puppy for me until I am able to take care of him myself. Christy has also called me every single day since my injury making me laugh at myself and helping me gain perspective on the situation. She also sent me silly packages and encouraged new talents (my harmonica playing is coming right along).

5. My friends Vicki and Mary at work. Because I had no time to plan and was put on painkillers immediately, there was no time for decent planning for my students. I knew I'd be out for 6 weeks and had NO idea how to proceed. Vicki found a generic lesson plan for teaching the novel 1984, made copies, helped my long term substitute, and kept my kids updated on my condition. She also called me often helping me laugh about the situation and letting me know what was happening in my classroom. She always ended our conversations by telling me, "Don't worry. Things are under control." I can NEVER repay her for everything she did. Mary, my wonderful department chair, entered grades for me, mailed me research papers, talked to the office and Principal for me, and made my adjustment back to school as smooth and easy as possible. I could NOT have made it without her.

5. My friends in general. I recieved many many phone calls, letters, emails, etc. from many of you. I love you. Thank you. I especially enjoyed Jill's question "When do we laugh at this? 'Cause I'm ready when you are." and her glee at the possibility of me drunk dialing while on Lortab. Sorry it didn't happen Jill, I was too busy forming a postulate to call.

6. I have a job that I love. I've often thought (usually at 5:30 when I'm up getting ready for work) that I'd like to not have to work. I'll never say that again. I never realized how much joy I get from being a productive member of society. I missed the daily interaction with my students and the other teachers I work with, and I found out how truly mind suckingly horrible daytime tv is.

7. I am not permanently disabled. Now that I've had a glimpse into what it's like to be handicapped I will never be the same. I now notice things I never would have before, like how difficult it is to do basic day to day things when you can't walk. I've also realized how much people in public places stare at you when you're not "normal". I've also learned how kind perfect strangers can be when you are in need.

8. I had a excellent and decisive doctor. I fell on a Wednesday, saw my doctor on the following Monday, and had surgery on Tuesday. I didn't realize how great this was until I started hearing horror stories. You see, when you are in a wheelchair/have crutches/wear a walking cast people come up to you and tell you their injury stories. I've heard nightmarish stories of doctors who dither around, make incorrect diagnoses, etc. I'm really blessed that we just got to business. I'm also blessed that my doctor (who replaced my father's knee last year) took my insurance. It was comforting to know that I had a well respected and competent surgeon cutting me open. It's also nice to know he's a BYU alum (GO COUGARS!)

9. I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with five of my nieces and nephews. The first three weeks of my recuperation were spent at my mom and dad's and I got to spend a LOT of time with my three adorable nieces who live around the corner. Normally during the school year I see them on weekends for an hour here or there, but I got three almost solid weeks of conversations, cuddling, laughter, and fun. I got to do Bethany's hair for her dance concert and see her dance in a poodle skirt.




I got to go to church with them and have Cate and Gwen take turns "getting" to sit by Aunt Maury. At one point during Sacrament meeting Cate grabbed my arm and said, "You're MY Maury." Then she went and sat by her mom and said to her, "See that girl up there? She's my Maury." Gwen came home with my mom and dad (I had to go home early) so that she'd be the first to "see Aunt Maury". I already loved these girls, but those three weeks were a precious opportunity to soak up the little girlness that I know just won't last (just last week Carly and Rachel were my little girls and now they're practically adults).

When I went to Christy's I got to spend a lot of time with my nephew Curtis and my niece Alyssa. Alyssa was very concerned that my walking boot was really ugly, and thought that I should just hop on one foot instead of using the crutches all the time. Curtis instructed me in the way of the Bionicle, and played with my dog. Time spent with those two kids is never a waste.

10. I got to see my 100 year old grandmother.



Of all of my blessings, this is my favorite. I might almost go so far as to say that maybe, if there's a reason that I had to break my foot, it was this. Had I not fallen on that silly stair I wouldn't have been able to take the time off of work to drive all day to Northern Wyoming, and I would have missed out on one of the sweetest experiences of my life. Grandma doesn't recognize us any more and she slept for a lot of the time I got to spend with her, but just sitting on her bed holding her hand and feeling her spirit was a blessing of the highest order. She didn't know who I was, but the first time we went into her room she pointed at me and said, "This girl looks familiar." I told her "That's because I'm your granddaughter Maury Sue." She responded, "You're my Maury Sue?" "Yes." "Oh, I'm glad!" We'd repeat that conversation every day and I never tired of it. Once she asked me, "How do you know I'm your grandma?" I told her it was because she'd been my grandma my entire life. She responded, "I'm sure glad I'm your grandma. I love you."

Being the granddaughter of that tremendous lady is one of the greatest blessings of my life. She has taught me that no matter what I face in life, I can make it if I rely on the Lord. She has taught me the value of intelligence and education, and has shown me what true strength is.


And, because my broken foot made it possible for me to see her one more time, I can't regret that silly fall or a single second of pain, frustration, or inconvenience it caused.

My Left Foot

I know it's been a long time since I posted last. Let me tell you that it was never my intention to leave the pitiful "I'm depressed about turning 35" post as long as I have. I have learned since that post that turning 35 is DEFINITELY not the worst thing in the world. It isn't even the worst thing that's happened this month.

This is:




The sad thing is, I don't even have a good story to tell. I was walking down the stairs from my apartment on my way to work when my ankle twisted on the last stair and I went down hard twisting both ankles and falling hard on both feet. I was in so much pain that I lay there thinking "I can't get up. I'm going to die here. Annnnnd I'm wearing a skirt. That's not pretty."

I soon realized that I live alone and no one was going to come to save me except possibly Jesus from the landscape crew, but he doesn't come to my complex until about 10 am. I needed to get up, but hurt so badly that I didn't know how I would even begin. I dragged over to the handrail of my stairs on my behind and then pulled myself up. It was so painful I thought I was going to black out, but I was sure it was just a really bad twist/sprain and I went to work.

I'm sure I was in shock; that's the only way I can explain the fact that I drove to school with a clutch and got to my second floor classroom on a broken left foot and sprained right one.

It wasn't until I got to my classroom that I looked down and saw that my foot was swelling at an alarming rate. I called my dad and told him about it as if he could tell me what to do without seeing it, but I pretty much knew from the location of the swelling that I'd done more than just sprain my ankle.

Once I got a sub I left, walking on my broken foot again, and drove my car to my brother David's, crying every time I had to push in the clutch.

Bless my brother David's heart he took me to urgent care, went to work while I got my diagnosis, and then picked me up afterwards. I honestly don't know what I would have done without him. (Love you David!!)

As I sat in a wheelchair in the Urgent Care entryway waiting for David, clutching my crutches and x-rays I realized that I couldn't

1. drive my car,
2. get into my apartment,
3. take care of my dog, or
4. do my job,

and I started to cry. I called my mom and dad and told them my pitiful condition and my mom got in the car and drove down to Las Vegas to pick me up(She'd been waiting to do so since I called my dad from my classroom). My dad got on the phone and called his orthopedic surgeon's office, found out they accepted my insurance and made me an appointment. They did all of this without complaint and I didn't have to ask for any of it. It made me appreciate, all over again how blessed I am to have such incredible parents.

So, I've had surgery and now my foot looks like this:



I know, I know. The improvement is startling. Actually, although I'm still in a splint, this one is MUCH better and I know that I'm on my way to healed. Also, I was lucky to have a talented and respected orthopedic surgeon fix my foot, and almost as important, an incredibly handsome and talented anesthesiologist who gave me a nerve block that lasted two days and got me through the worst of the pain.

I had my surgery Tuesday, but was originally scheduled for Friday. They called me at 11 am Tuesday when they had a cancellation and I'd already eaten breakfast. I was told not to eat anything else, and to be at the hospital at 3. When my mom and I got there I had to repeat about 5,000,001 times exactly what I ate and when. I was overjoyed that I hadn't snacked wildly that morning. Even though I'd only eaten a bowl of cereal and 2 pieces of toast I felt ashamed. I know they needed to know what I ate, but was it necessary to ask the chubby girl to repeat it so many times? I was waiting for them to bring out the spot light from NYPD Blue and have Sipowitz question me until I cracked and admitted to eating the bag of Cadbury Mini-Eggs my sister Christy had sent me just to get out of the room. However, finally, after all of the questioning it was decided that I'd get a nerve block in the back of my knee and be sedated, not anestetized. Bless the beautiful beautiful anesthesiologist (I would have loved him even if he wasn't cute, but he was. That made it fun to talk to him while wearing a hospital gown, unshowered, with no make-up) I remember nothing between being moved to the surgery table and waking up post-surgery.

Since the surgery I've had minimal pain, all things considered, and although I'm suffering through major cabin fever and am stressed out about missing 4-6 weeks of work, I'm just fine.

I've also learned:

1. Lortab binds you up.
2. Modesty is a luxury.
3. Showering with one leg hanging out of the door is not as effective as you'd think.
4. *Grading research papers while on narcotics is not easy, but it is QUICK!!
5. You can get tired of wearing jammies.
6. When you shop at Wal-Mart in a wheelchair everyone(including the polygamist women who everyone else is staring at) stares at you.
7. Day time TV is horrible.
8. America's Top Model is on nearly 24 hours a day when you have DirectTV.
9. Toilets are REALLY low to the ground
10. I naturally lead with my left foot, or did until February 25, 2009 at 6:30 am.


so there you go.

*Disclaimer: I didn't really grade papers under the influence of Lortab, but some of them were so bad that I kinda wish I had.