Today is brought to us by "a flutter".
As in, today is the day before the girls' birthday and they are all "a flutter" with anticipation for The Big Day.
Pulling out a much loved reference to Bambi, one of them told me they felt completely "twitterpated" about all the joy to come.
They'll be 10 tomorrow. Ten. I keep trying that on for size. Wrapping my head around this really big idea that somehow, these two premature babies have become 10 years old. A decade. "Yes, my children are 10 years old." "Oh, they just turned 10." "The kids are the big 1-0". No matter how many times I say it, my brain can't quite seem to grasp it.
I know that as a parent I'm supposed to hold golden dreams of my babies growing up, becoming productive members of society, and offering a real contribution to their fellow man that will make everyone realize that Dan and I were just pretty darn amazing as parents. And I do feel that way.
But is it overly wrong of me to confess that I'm also just the teeniest bit---well---sad about the addition of another place value on their age chart? Maybe sad isn't the best word for it.....Maybe melancholy is better? It's just that they're growing so fast. (In my eyes.) No matter how much I try to keep my mental camera focused and snapping away pictures to cherish, there seems to be so much I'm missing. How is this going by so fast? (Slow down!)
Naturally, they are absolutely convinced that they'll tuck away into bed tonight as mere babies, (only 9, after all), and wake up as genteel young ladies. Fully endorsed by the Sisterhood of Women. Ten years old.
Today, I smile as they bounce around with excitement. I do remember the semantic importance of "I Was 9 and Now I'm 10". Tonight, while they dream about their upcoming "debut", I'm fairly sure I'll be trying to figure out just exactly where in the smack those 3,650 days have gone. And in the morning, when they jump out of bed with excitement, I'll be ready to embrace (with heartfelt gratitude) this new chapter in our life. Gone are the days of the single digits; we welcome the new era of double-digit birthdays.
Let the adventure continue!
Monday, October 13, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
Birthday Months.
We celebrate the girls' birthday month around here. Once the first of the October announces itself on the calendar, we are geared and ready to go.
"It's here! It's here! It's finally here!" we collectively rejoice.
I know it sounds simple, and maybe in some ways it is. But the truth of the matter is a lot deeper than you may realize.
You see, around here, we have an awful lot to be thankful for. Not just on the actual anniversary of their grand arrival, but on the days leading up to it as well. Their presence in the Birthday Seat of Honor was not a guaranteed thing.
When the first of the month arrives, my thoughts turn to my situation, some ten long years ago. (A decade. Goodness.) I was in the hospital, hoping against all hope that these two would try (Please!) to stay inside for a bit longer. (Just a few more weeks!) I was absolutely torn between two very pressing realities:
One, at 31 weeks, they were only just ready to make their way in the world. (They needed more time on the inside. Please!)
And two, their presence inside of me was becoming toxic to my system. Every day in which they remained in there, growing, was a day I grew sicker; my body (their incubator) shutting down. (Toxemia; nature's gigantic oxy-moron.)
Those long, stressful (scary) days leading up to the birth were, perhaps, not the most horrendous of all birth stories ever told. But in my little solar system, the entire situation was an asteroid tossed in from the outer reaches of darkness, threatening to destroy everything orbiting therein.
I cried. I prayed. I cried some more. I hurt. (A lot).
And most of all, I waited. For whatever might happen. Whatever that might be.
Memories from those hectic days, a decade ago, are just as precious me to as the moment of their individual births. I cherish them as a reminder not to take one single moment I have with them for granted. I might have lost one or both of them. I might not have survived to write this entry. Maudlin though it may be, I'm grateful for the simplicity of the message I was blessed with during those weeks, ten long (or short) years ago.
So we celebrate the girls' birthday month around our house. It's kinda a big deal in our family. The entire month brings with it a reminder to be grateful; to live in the presence and learn from the past; and to always always always be thankful for each and every single thing along the way. It's all a journey. And it's all golden.
"It's here! It's here! It's finally here!" we collectively rejoice.
I know it sounds simple, and maybe in some ways it is. But the truth of the matter is a lot deeper than you may realize.
You see, around here, we have an awful lot to be thankful for. Not just on the actual anniversary of their grand arrival, but on the days leading up to it as well. Their presence in the Birthday Seat of Honor was not a guaranteed thing.
When the first of the month arrives, my thoughts turn to my situation, some ten long years ago. (A decade. Goodness.) I was in the hospital, hoping against all hope that these two would try (Please!) to stay inside for a bit longer. (Just a few more weeks!) I was absolutely torn between two very pressing realities:
One, at 31 weeks, they were only just ready to make their way in the world. (They needed more time on the inside. Please!)
And two, their presence inside of me was becoming toxic to my system. Every day in which they remained in there, growing, was a day I grew sicker; my body (their incubator) shutting down. (Toxemia; nature's gigantic oxy-moron.)
Those long, stressful (scary) days leading up to the birth were, perhaps, not the most horrendous of all birth stories ever told. But in my little solar system, the entire situation was an asteroid tossed in from the outer reaches of darkness, threatening to destroy everything orbiting therein.
I cried. I prayed. I cried some more. I hurt. (A lot).
And most of all, I waited. For whatever might happen. Whatever that might be.
Memories from those hectic days, a decade ago, are just as precious me to as the moment of their individual births. I cherish them as a reminder not to take one single moment I have with them for granted. I might have lost one or both of them. I might not have survived to write this entry. Maudlin though it may be, I'm grateful for the simplicity of the message I was blessed with during those weeks, ten long (or short) years ago.
So we celebrate the girls' birthday month around our house. It's kinda a big deal in our family. The entire month brings with it a reminder to be grateful; to live in the presence and learn from the past; and to always always always be thankful for each and every single thing along the way. It's all a journey. And it's all golden.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Circa 1980.
Unlike the memories my children will ever have, I do remember a time without the Internet. I remember it as being neither good, nor bad; just different.
A time when a research paper or unanswered (and plaguing) question had to be started in the hallowed halls of the public library. Few feelings compared with that frustration of making your way down the alphabetized spines of the encyclopedia collection only to find the singular volume you "had to have" was missing. I remember walking around the tables in the library, hoping against all hope that perhaps some other patron had ignored the "One Volume At A Workstation At A Time, Please" mandate, and had horded the one I sought. Of course sometimes the volume was simply "Missing", a designation that always perplexed me, seeing that research books weren't available to be checked out. (What kind of a person steals a stupid encyclopedia, anyway?)
Then there were the occasions when you'd finally gotten the volume you needed, (whether by hook or crook), found the page indicated in the index, and turned to it only to find the page or part of the page was missing. (Wasn't that just a kick in the pants?)
I don't necessarily miss those pre-Internet days, mind you. But I remember them.
The other night a lightening strike, a little too close for comfort, blasted our family back to circa-1980's, knocking our address of the world wide web.(Gasp!) No Internet at our house means no television, other than DVDs and any pre-recorded shows. It means no weather updates. No telephone (except for cell service). It means no social networking sites. (NOOOOOOOOOO!)
In the first few moments when The Television Went Blank, we stared at each other in awe. Where did it go? It was here; now it is not. What happened? I tried my laptop, but nothing happened. Where the signal strength indicator bars once gleamed in fullness, there was only a sad exclamation mark in a yellow triangle....along with the despised message: "No Internet Access".
The children bounded off to watch a DVD upstairs now that we were back to, what they consider, "The Olden Days", and spent a happy hour enjoying the novelty of a movie that had been trapped on a shiny disk.
My husband and I used the time to catch up on books we've been neglecting, and whose due dates were fast approaching. We, the perfect picture of domestic bliss; Ma & Pa huddled around the glow of the electric lamp, cozied up to our glowing devices, reading.
The situation has since worked itself out. We're back online again and surfing the Internet at our usual intrepid speeds. But our forced re-visitation to the days of yore was a practical reminder of just exactly how far we've come, for the better and (just maybe) a bit for the worse.
And how mightily we are dependent upon something that was, not that long ago, an imaginative piece of science fiction.
A time when a research paper or unanswered (and plaguing) question had to be started in the hallowed halls of the public library. Few feelings compared with that frustration of making your way down the alphabetized spines of the encyclopedia collection only to find the singular volume you "had to have" was missing. I remember walking around the tables in the library, hoping against all hope that perhaps some other patron had ignored the "One Volume At A Workstation At A Time, Please" mandate, and had horded the one I sought. Of course sometimes the volume was simply "Missing", a designation that always perplexed me, seeing that research books weren't available to be checked out. (What kind of a person steals a stupid encyclopedia, anyway?)
Then there were the occasions when you'd finally gotten the volume you needed, (whether by hook or crook), found the page indicated in the index, and turned to it only to find the page or part of the page was missing. (Wasn't that just a kick in the pants?)
I don't necessarily miss those pre-Internet days, mind you. But I remember them.
The other night a lightening strike, a little too close for comfort, blasted our family back to circa-1980's, knocking our address of the world wide web.(Gasp!) No Internet at our house means no television, other than DVDs and any pre-recorded shows. It means no weather updates. No telephone (except for cell service). It means no social networking sites. (NOOOOOOOOOO!)
In the first few moments when The Television Went Blank, we stared at each other in awe. Where did it go? It was here; now it is not. What happened? I tried my laptop, but nothing happened. Where the signal strength indicator bars once gleamed in fullness, there was only a sad exclamation mark in a yellow triangle....along with the despised message: "No Internet Access".
The children bounded off to watch a DVD upstairs now that we were back to, what they consider, "The Olden Days", and spent a happy hour enjoying the novelty of a movie that had been trapped on a shiny disk.
My husband and I used the time to catch up on books we've been neglecting, and whose due dates were fast approaching. We, the perfect picture of domestic bliss; Ma & Pa huddled around the glow of the electric lamp, cozied up to our glowing devices, reading.
The situation has since worked itself out. We're back online again and surfing the Internet at our usual intrepid speeds. But our forced re-visitation to the days of yore was a practical reminder of just exactly how far we've come, for the better and (just maybe) a bit for the worse.
And how mightily we are dependent upon something that was, not that long ago, an imaginative piece of science fiction.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
My Non-Scary Colonoscopy
Due to a vengeful family history, I recently had my very first colonoscopy screening. This is a procedure that I'd been dreading since I found out I would need to get the scope done at the age of 36.
If you're in the same boat, perhaps you've noticed that there is a lot of fear-mongering going on all over the Internet regarding the prep itself. I know I did. Holy cow, I didn't know which part to be more frightened of: the prep or the scope itself. People, in general, will say that the prep is the worst part, and I wondered what exactly that meant. Was the prep so bad that nothing could top it, or was it not a big deal. None of the stories I read did much to ease my mind, so I vowed to write my own version of my experience when I was done.
I chronicled my prep in my post: The Non-Scary Colonoscopy Prep Story . Now that I'm done with the scope too, I figured a conclusion is in order.
The scope went perfectly. Truly. I was a bundle of nerves; I'm not going to lie about that. I had myself completely worked into a mess, after all. But the staff at the gastro clinic where I was going did an amazing job of talking me down from my self-incited worry. They were empathetic to my concerns. They were kind. They were patient. It was perfect.
They told me I wouldn't feel a thing. And I didn't. (Seriously. Nada.) I zonked out as they were putting the meds into my IV and woke up in the recovery room. Just like that. I felt fine--a little bit groggy, but that passed in a few minutes. In fact, it seemed weird that I felt fine. I mean, think of what had just happened, after all. How can you feel fine? But I did--totally and completely normal. I was in and out of the clinic within about an hour and half, with most of that time being the admission part, honestly.
Then I was on my way home---done with my first colonoscopy. My experience was NOT terrible. In fact, the entire thing was perfectly fine. Put another way, due to family history I have to have another scope done in 5 years and (are you ready for this?) I am okay with it. Completely. No worries. At all.
So, if you're scheduled for a colonoscopy and worried, or if you're tired of hearing only scary stories about the whole thing, I tell you this: You can rest easy. The "hardest" part of the entire process is the prep...BUT (and please, please take this to heart), the prep is not bad. It's the hardest part because you are literally asleep for the other part, leaving the prep as the only part you actually do.
Are you going to be skipping around smacking your lips while drinking the prep? No; but I have to think a natural aversion to liquid laxative is not a bad thing. Will you have to gag it down? No. Follow my tips and play music. Walk around while you drink it. Use a smoothie straw. Keep focused on just drinking. You will be fine.
How does the prep make you feel? Honestly, I felt fine. I had split dose Suprep. I had no side effects other than the intended one. The biggest thing is being able to drink 48oz of water in a short period of time. I practiced that a week before my actual prep; I drank 48oz of water at 12:00, and 48oz at 8:00. I felt ready and I had no issues. You'll feel full after drinking the prep, but walking around will move it on through. The extra water hastens the process as well.
Is it horrible when it starts "working"? Nope. Uneventful. I had gone on a soup/smoothie/yogurt/type diet about 4 days before my prep. The less you put in, the less you have to move out, after all. In any case, that part was easy. No cramping, accidents, or serious urgency. You'll spend some time on the toilet, but it wasn't hours or anything. The action started to fizzle for me about 3 hours after drinking the first dose of prep. I had a lull in bathroom trips, and I felt so good that my husband and I took a walk around town. I kept thinking, "Here I am, prepping for a colonoscopy, and I'm out of the house...walking." The second dose took effect more immediately because the first dose had done it's work so well. I was clear and done within 2 hours of it. I had a full night's sleep with no bathroom trips.
Here's the one important thing I will stress, though: be sure to drink lots of fluids during the prep. I talked about my beverage buffet in the non scary colonoscopy prep story and it turned out to be so important. If you're on a similar schedule, you won't be able to drink anything after midnight, and you've just guzzled lots of salt. You will be thirsty in the morning. I truly think that keeping myself hydrated during the prep (in addition to the water you drink with the prep) made this part so much easier. I didn't feel week or off balance or dizzy at all. No headaches or muscle aches either. Remember that your kidneys are going to be working overtime with this prep so keep your body hydrated and you'll feel fine through it all. Promise.
Don't be afraid of the prep or the scope. If you are, I understand; I was right there with you on that. Sometimes it just takes going through it for yourself that first time to ease your mind. Please take comfort in knowing that the prep is not bad at all. You will be fine. The scope itself is a breeze and you'll be on your way out the door before you know it.
This test is so incredibly important, and all the horror stories out there don't do much to get people to sign up for it. I'm hoping people will stumble on these posts and see that it's just not the scary experience some have made it out to be. If you've been in doubt about getting a colonoscopy, please don't let fears of the prep or test itself delay you anymore.
If you're in the same boat, perhaps you've noticed that there is a lot of fear-mongering going on all over the Internet regarding the prep itself. I know I did. Holy cow, I didn't know which part to be more frightened of: the prep or the scope itself. People, in general, will say that the prep is the worst part, and I wondered what exactly that meant. Was the prep so bad that nothing could top it, or was it not a big deal. None of the stories I read did much to ease my mind, so I vowed to write my own version of my experience when I was done.
I chronicled my prep in my post: The Non-Scary Colonoscopy Prep Story . Now that I'm done with the scope too, I figured a conclusion is in order.
The scope went perfectly. Truly. I was a bundle of nerves; I'm not going to lie about that. I had myself completely worked into a mess, after all. But the staff at the gastro clinic where I was going did an amazing job of talking me down from my self-incited worry. They were empathetic to my concerns. They were kind. They were patient. It was perfect.
They told me I wouldn't feel a thing. And I didn't. (Seriously. Nada.) I zonked out as they were putting the meds into my IV and woke up in the recovery room. Just like that. I felt fine--a little bit groggy, but that passed in a few minutes. In fact, it seemed weird that I felt fine. I mean, think of what had just happened, after all. How can you feel fine? But I did--totally and completely normal. I was in and out of the clinic within about an hour and half, with most of that time being the admission part, honestly.
Then I was on my way home---done with my first colonoscopy. My experience was NOT terrible. In fact, the entire thing was perfectly fine. Put another way, due to family history I have to have another scope done in 5 years and (are you ready for this?) I am okay with it. Completely. No worries. At all.
So, if you're scheduled for a colonoscopy and worried, or if you're tired of hearing only scary stories about the whole thing, I tell you this: You can rest easy. The "hardest" part of the entire process is the prep...BUT (and please, please take this to heart), the prep is not bad. It's the hardest part because you are literally asleep for the other part, leaving the prep as the only part you actually do.
Are you going to be skipping around smacking your lips while drinking the prep? No; but I have to think a natural aversion to liquid laxative is not a bad thing. Will you have to gag it down? No. Follow my tips and play music. Walk around while you drink it. Use a smoothie straw. Keep focused on just drinking. You will be fine.
How does the prep make you feel? Honestly, I felt fine. I had split dose Suprep. I had no side effects other than the intended one. The biggest thing is being able to drink 48oz of water in a short period of time. I practiced that a week before my actual prep; I drank 48oz of water at 12:00, and 48oz at 8:00. I felt ready and I had no issues. You'll feel full after drinking the prep, but walking around will move it on through. The extra water hastens the process as well.
Is it horrible when it starts "working"? Nope. Uneventful. I had gone on a soup/smoothie/yogurt/type diet about 4 days before my prep. The less you put in, the less you have to move out, after all. In any case, that part was easy. No cramping, accidents, or serious urgency. You'll spend some time on the toilet, but it wasn't hours or anything. The action started to fizzle for me about 3 hours after drinking the first dose of prep. I had a lull in bathroom trips, and I felt so good that my husband and I took a walk around town. I kept thinking, "Here I am, prepping for a colonoscopy, and I'm out of the house...walking." The second dose took effect more immediately because the first dose had done it's work so well. I was clear and done within 2 hours of it. I had a full night's sleep with no bathroom trips.
Here's the one important thing I will stress, though: be sure to drink lots of fluids during the prep. I talked about my beverage buffet in the non scary colonoscopy prep story and it turned out to be so important. If you're on a similar schedule, you won't be able to drink anything after midnight, and you've just guzzled lots of salt. You will be thirsty in the morning. I truly think that keeping myself hydrated during the prep (in addition to the water you drink with the prep) made this part so much easier. I didn't feel week or off balance or dizzy at all. No headaches or muscle aches either. Remember that your kidneys are going to be working overtime with this prep so keep your body hydrated and you'll feel fine through it all. Promise.
Don't be afraid of the prep or the scope. If you are, I understand; I was right there with you on that. Sometimes it just takes going through it for yourself that first time to ease your mind. Please take comfort in knowing that the prep is not bad at all. You will be fine. The scope itself is a breeze and you'll be on your way out the door before you know it.
This test is so incredibly important, and all the horror stories out there don't do much to get people to sign up for it. I'm hoping people will stumble on these posts and see that it's just not the scary experience some have made it out to be. If you've been in doubt about getting a colonoscopy, please don't let fears of the prep or test itself delay you anymore.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
The Non-Scary Colonoscopy Prep Story.
"Family History" is an ugly guest in our family when it comes to colon cancer. It's the loud, obnoxious, uninvited guest who is with us at every single family gathering, even though no one remembers inviting them.
So following that old adage of "Better Safe Than Sorry" and, the somewhat less eloquent but equally fitting, "Let's Git 'Er Done", I'll be getting my first colonoscopy screening tomorrow.
In my mind the whole colonoscopy thing is two distinct parts: The Prep and The Scope. Most people tend to say that the prep is the worst part. I just have to say that vague generalities like this tend to annoy me. That can be taken 2 very different ways, and for those (like me) who hang on words, we're stuck in an understanding gap. It could mean: "It doesn't matter what the heck happens during the colonoscopy; nothing comes close to be as horrible as the prep." Or, on the more gentle side, it could mean: "You would honestly think the worst part of a colonoscopy would be getting nooked in your cranny, but since that is not even slightly bad, the default "worst part" (if something MUST be classified as such) falls back to the only other part of the process--the prep."
I've been hoping for the second meaning, but am pretty sure the one and only way to know for sure is to just do it for myself. So the following is my experience with the prep. The web is full of horror stories....this won't be one of them. I think I wasted hours of my life looking at forums with people in two categories: The No Big Deal folks and the For The Love Of Pete, The World Is Ending group. I figured the first group had it right, but the latter had one collectively louder voice; it was hard to drown them out. My goal in writing this is to help someone else. Let's face it, if they're being smart about health, everyone will do this at least once in their lifetime. Why be afraid of it? If you're in the Prep boat...don't be afraid. Remember that right at this minute, you are one of many people doing this. It's okay. You'll be okay. Repeat after me: This. Is. No. Big. Deal.
Pre-Prep: I should mention that I started a pretty liquid diet about four days out of my actual prep day. Brothy soups and smoothies. It wasn't hard for me to follow that. I have no idea if it helps in the process, it was just something I felt like doing to give myself some control over a situation that made me feel kind of powerless.
1. I was supposed to start the first dose of Suprep at 12:00. I started at 11:45---it made me feel like I was in control. Sounds like a silly thing, but I felt like a rebel. "Hey. No one's gonna tell me when to take the poop medicine."
2. The taste isn't great---but it's not horrible. Get a smoothie straw and a really fun glass. Add a liberal amount of lime juice. The biggest issue with the flavor of the Suprep is the sweetness; cutting it with lime helps a lot. The smoothie straw means larger amounts per sip. Put it flat against your tongue, way in the back of your throat. Every sip will magically pass right over your taste buds. You'll still get a bit of the flavor, but it will be tolerable. I promise.
3. Don't stand still!! While you're drinking the prep, walk around. It will take your mind off what you're doing. (Seriously, half of this game is a mental one....you can absolute overcome that.)
4. Make a motivational play list and blast it while you're drinking. (You can apologize to the neighbors later.) My husband walked behind me with my play list at top volume. Music has a way of erasing the physical and transporting you to another place. Take advantage of that. I was so busy being mentally engaged in the songs playing that I didn't even notice when my glass of prep was gone. Seriously. (A watched pot will not boil and a watched glass of prep will not empty.)
5. Don't be afraid of "The Go". One of the big worries that plagued me was: "What is it going to feel like when the magic starts happening??" I envisioned trauma and torrents and all manner of sad things. Here's the reality: It's okay. No worries. You'll just have to "go". Nothing major. Nothing traumatic. (Rather anticlimactic if you're like me and had worked yourself up into a tizzy.) Yes, you'll make it to the bathroom on time. No, you won't be on the toilet for hours. It's just...fine. Really. I stocked my bathroom with my laptop, video games, books, and even some crafting stuff. (Yep, that's me..I crafted during my prep.) Also, make sure you have some ointment and wet wipes on hand. And this is a time to splurge and get the really cushy toilet paper. Do you "need" it? Nah, but it makes you feel pretty darn special.
6. Eventually the "going" will kind of fizzle out. I was on a split dose with 8 hours between doses. After about 2 hours, all the excitement had passed. In effect, you'll end up biding your time for round two. Spend your "down time" well---get caught up on TV shows (especially the guilty pleasure ones that you'd never actually admit to anyone that you like to watch). I found that having a variety of activities on hand was best for me--I tend to have a really short attention span in the very best of times and it's darn near non-existent at others. So I just sort of hopped around the house from here to there, doing whatever I wanted. Bliss.
7. No matter what...KEEP DRINKING. You won't necessarily want to, but it's really a good idea to keep the liquid libations flowing. (Be kind to your kidneys). In an effort to promote actually wanting to take a sip of something, I gathered several of the prettiest glasses we had and set them out on the counter. I filled each with something different: tap water with fruit juices, sparkling water with a squirt of lemon, white grape juice, apple juice, Gatorade, Ginger Ale, etc. I put a straw in each glass. Every time I passed by the counter, it was easy to snag a glass and take a sip. If the contents didn't do anything for me at that moment, I had a plethora of others to choose from. It was like a beverage buffet. Stupid, I know, but it worked for me.
8. And when you've drunk that last gulp of prep...CELEBRATE. It's a victory. You did it!!!! I celebrated by squashing and stomping on the box my prep came in; I crushed the cup into bits; I destroyed the 2 little bottles. All while listening to Katy Perry's Firework. Whatever works, right?
Prep is not something to be afraid of. Remember that. It's one moment out of your life that could SAVE your life. It's worth it. I have lived for 7 years in dread of this first colonoscopy prep. Absolute dread. Finishing that last bit of the second dose literally was a huge weight lifting off my shoulders. I did it. The prep drinking was over.
You will be okay through it. Know that. Take deep breaths. Smile. Laugh. You will be fine.
So following that old adage of "Better Safe Than Sorry" and, the somewhat less eloquent but equally fitting, "Let's Git 'Er Done", I'll be getting my first colonoscopy screening tomorrow.
In my mind the whole colonoscopy thing is two distinct parts: The Prep and The Scope. Most people tend to say that the prep is the worst part. I just have to say that vague generalities like this tend to annoy me. That can be taken 2 very different ways, and for those (like me) who hang on words, we're stuck in an understanding gap. It could mean: "It doesn't matter what the heck happens during the colonoscopy; nothing comes close to be as horrible as the prep." Or, on the more gentle side, it could mean: "You would honestly think the worst part of a colonoscopy would be getting nooked in your cranny, but since that is not even slightly bad, the default "worst part" (if something MUST be classified as such) falls back to the only other part of the process--the prep."
I've been hoping for the second meaning, but am pretty sure the one and only way to know for sure is to just do it for myself. So the following is my experience with the prep. The web is full of horror stories....this won't be one of them. I think I wasted hours of my life looking at forums with people in two categories: The No Big Deal folks and the For The Love Of Pete, The World Is Ending group. I figured the first group had it right, but the latter had one collectively louder voice; it was hard to drown them out. My goal in writing this is to help someone else. Let's face it, if they're being smart about health, everyone will do this at least once in their lifetime. Why be afraid of it? If you're in the Prep boat...don't be afraid. Remember that right at this minute, you are one of many people doing this. It's okay. You'll be okay. Repeat after me: This. Is. No. Big. Deal.
Pre-Prep: I should mention that I started a pretty liquid diet about four days out of my actual prep day. Brothy soups and smoothies. It wasn't hard for me to follow that. I have no idea if it helps in the process, it was just something I felt like doing to give myself some control over a situation that made me feel kind of powerless.
1. I was supposed to start the first dose of Suprep at 12:00. I started at 11:45---it made me feel like I was in control. Sounds like a silly thing, but I felt like a rebel. "Hey. No one's gonna tell me when to take the poop medicine."
2. The taste isn't great---but it's not horrible. Get a smoothie straw and a really fun glass. Add a liberal amount of lime juice. The biggest issue with the flavor of the Suprep is the sweetness; cutting it with lime helps a lot. The smoothie straw means larger amounts per sip. Put it flat against your tongue, way in the back of your throat. Every sip will magically pass right over your taste buds. You'll still get a bit of the flavor, but it will be tolerable. I promise.
3. Don't stand still!! While you're drinking the prep, walk around. It will take your mind off what you're doing. (Seriously, half of this game is a mental one....you can absolute overcome that.)
4. Make a motivational play list and blast it while you're drinking. (You can apologize to the neighbors later.) My husband walked behind me with my play list at top volume. Music has a way of erasing the physical and transporting you to another place. Take advantage of that. I was so busy being mentally engaged in the songs playing that I didn't even notice when my glass of prep was gone. Seriously. (A watched pot will not boil and a watched glass of prep will not empty.)
5. Don't be afraid of "The Go". One of the big worries that plagued me was: "What is it going to feel like when the magic starts happening??" I envisioned trauma and torrents and all manner of sad things. Here's the reality: It's okay. No worries. You'll just have to "go". Nothing major. Nothing traumatic. (Rather anticlimactic if you're like me and had worked yourself up into a tizzy.) Yes, you'll make it to the bathroom on time. No, you won't be on the toilet for hours. It's just...fine. Really. I stocked my bathroom with my laptop, video games, books, and even some crafting stuff. (Yep, that's me..I crafted during my prep.) Also, make sure you have some ointment and wet wipes on hand. And this is a time to splurge and get the really cushy toilet paper. Do you "need" it? Nah, but it makes you feel pretty darn special.
6. Eventually the "going" will kind of fizzle out. I was on a split dose with 8 hours between doses. After about 2 hours, all the excitement had passed. In effect, you'll end up biding your time for round two. Spend your "down time" well---get caught up on TV shows (especially the guilty pleasure ones that you'd never actually admit to anyone that you like to watch). I found that having a variety of activities on hand was best for me--I tend to have a really short attention span in the very best of times and it's darn near non-existent at others. So I just sort of hopped around the house from here to there, doing whatever I wanted. Bliss.
7. No matter what...KEEP DRINKING. You won't necessarily want to, but it's really a good idea to keep the liquid libations flowing. (Be kind to your kidneys). In an effort to promote actually wanting to take a sip of something, I gathered several of the prettiest glasses we had and set them out on the counter. I filled each with something different: tap water with fruit juices, sparkling water with a squirt of lemon, white grape juice, apple juice, Gatorade, Ginger Ale, etc. I put a straw in each glass. Every time I passed by the counter, it was easy to snag a glass and take a sip. If the contents didn't do anything for me at that moment, I had a plethora of others to choose from. It was like a beverage buffet. Stupid, I know, but it worked for me.
8. And when you've drunk that last gulp of prep...CELEBRATE. It's a victory. You did it!!!! I celebrated by squashing and stomping on the box my prep came in; I crushed the cup into bits; I destroyed the 2 little bottles. All while listening to Katy Perry's Firework. Whatever works, right?
Prep is not something to be afraid of. Remember that. It's one moment out of your life that could SAVE your life. It's worth it. I have lived for 7 years in dread of this first colonoscopy prep. Absolute dread. Finishing that last bit of the second dose literally was a huge weight lifting off my shoulders. I did it. The prep drinking was over.
You will be okay through it. Know that. Take deep breaths. Smile. Laugh. You will be fine.
Friday, June 6, 2014
The Time I Had Braces, Before This Time That I Have Braces.
I had braces back in the day. Four long years of them, actually. In fact, I tend to think about this period of my life as "The Time I Had Brace For Four Long Years."
It left an impression.
I really thought I "remembered" the whole braces thing too. After four nearly unending years, it seemed like I would be some sort of bona-fide expert, surely.
So when my daughters got their braces, about 2 years ago, I appointed myself to the esteemed position of Fount Of Orthodontic Wisdom.
"Yes, you can still chew with your mouth closed, thank you muchly."
"You absolutely CAN still eat those baby carrots. Chomp away, kiddo."
"No, brushing your teeth has not gotten harder. You just need to do a better job."
All of my wisdom was prefaced by snappy little anecdotes that generally began with the immortal phrase: "When I had braces." I truly thought I remembered what having braces was like. I did. Really.
Well let me tell you, Karma is a fickle lady, my friends. She likes to poke us in our behinds when we get a little too high and mighty.
(Or when we're just plain wrong.)
I decided to jump on the orthodontic carousel of fun once again; this time by choice. I now sport a shiny row of brackets on my lower teeth. As they put the brackets on, I smiled to myself even as my teeth were being chained into a tightly locked cage complete with coils.
"I've got this," I thought. "I remember all of this. This will be nothing."
I smiled the whole way home. "See girls? Like I said: this is nothing."
And I really thought that---
until I tried to eat the first carrot.
until I tried to chew with my mouth closed without ripping up my cheeks.
until I tried to get away with just simply "brushing" my teeth the usual way.
Turns out folks, some things just aren't as easy with braces. And apparently I had selectively forgotten some other little gems about having brackets in your mouth. (Did you know that you can brush your teeth for a full 5 minutes and still have crud tangled up on those things? Go figure.
So now I'm relearning this thing that is braces. (And I am remembering some of the stuff I forgot.)
Changes have been made around here too.
Veggies are offered raw or cooked.
Proximal brushes have been added to our brushing routine. (These things are nifty, by the by.)
And we have instituted a "Chew With Your Mouth Open (as long as we're at home and no one else is with us)" policy at the table.
I have also retired from my position of Fount Of Orthodontic Wisdom. That title is still open at our house. I think it will remain unfilled for quite a while.
It left an impression.
I really thought I "remembered" the whole braces thing too. After four nearly unending years, it seemed like I would be some sort of bona-fide expert, surely.
So when my daughters got their braces, about 2 years ago, I appointed myself to the esteemed position of Fount Of Orthodontic Wisdom.
"Yes, you can still chew with your mouth closed, thank you muchly."
"You absolutely CAN still eat those baby carrots. Chomp away, kiddo."
"No, brushing your teeth has not gotten harder. You just need to do a better job."
All of my wisdom was prefaced by snappy little anecdotes that generally began with the immortal phrase: "When I had braces." I truly thought I remembered what having braces was like. I did. Really.
Well let me tell you, Karma is a fickle lady, my friends. She likes to poke us in our behinds when we get a little too high and mighty.
(Or when we're just plain wrong.)
I decided to jump on the orthodontic carousel of fun once again; this time by choice. I now sport a shiny row of brackets on my lower teeth. As they put the brackets on, I smiled to myself even as my teeth were being chained into a tightly locked cage complete with coils.
"I've got this," I thought. "I remember all of this. This will be nothing."
I smiled the whole way home. "See girls? Like I said: this is nothing."
And I really thought that---
until I tried to eat the first carrot.
until I tried to chew with my mouth closed without ripping up my cheeks.
until I tried to get away with just simply "brushing" my teeth the usual way.
Turns out folks, some things just aren't as easy with braces. And apparently I had selectively forgotten some other little gems about having brackets in your mouth. (Did you know that you can brush your teeth for a full 5 minutes and still have crud tangled up on those things? Go figure.
So now I'm relearning this thing that is braces. (And I am remembering some of the stuff I forgot.)
Changes have been made around here too.
Veggies are offered raw or cooked.
Proximal brushes have been added to our brushing routine. (These things are nifty, by the by.)
And we have instituted a "Chew With Your Mouth Open (as long as we're at home and no one else is with us)" policy at the table.
I have also retired from my position of Fount Of Orthodontic Wisdom. That title is still open at our house. I think it will remain unfilled for quite a while.
Friday, May 2, 2014
Honestly Whole Wheat Sandwich Buns.
Back in January my husband and I decided to ring in the new year with some healthy diet changes at our house. One of the first things to go was white flour. For those of you who know me, making bread and eating bread are favorites of mine. Dumping that canister of white flour was incredibly hard. (So was getting rid of all the white pasta and white rice. But that's a story for another day.)
Nearly five months later, we're still going strong: no white flour (and very little of any type of flour, actually), no white starches, no cane sugar (and little of any sort of sugar), no high fructose, and little-to-no dairy. (A lady has got to have cheese every now and again, doesn't she?) We feel great and have incorporated the changes easily into our daily life.
But sometimes, a girl has got to have a real-life bun. Just sometimes. I've been playing around with creating a recipe for whole wheat buns that works: it must use only whole wheat, and must, must, must have a texture that is edible.
I think I've finally figured it out. These use a blend of whole wheat flours. They are soft and not overly dense. Best of all, you can make the dough in your bread machine. Give them a try and see what you think.
What you'll need:
1 cup water
3 TBS milk
3 TBS honey
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
3 TBS butter
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup white whole wheat flour
1 1/3 cup whole wheat flour
3 tsp vital wheat gluten
2 1/2 tsp instant yeast
What you'll do:
Add ingredients to your bread machine pan in the order recommended by the manufacturer. (For mine, it's the order listed above.) Choose the Dough Cycle and enjoy an hour and a half or so sitting and reading a book or something. Be sure to congratulate yourself; you are making healthy buns from scratch, after all.
After the dough cycle is complete, separate the dough into smaller pieces: 8 if you want really big buns; 10 if you want small-medium sized buns. (Be aware that the dough may be on the stickier side. Dip your hands in a little more flour and you'll have no problem shaping them, though.) Place them on a parchment lined (or greased) cookie sheet, leaving about 2 inches between each. Spray lightly with cooking spray and cover with plastic wrap or a light towel. Allow to rise until double--30 minutes to an hour, depending on humidity levels.
**I like to use my oven to proof bread. If you don't have a proof setting on your oven, you can still make it work as a professional "proofer". Set a bowl of warm water on the floor of the oven. Pre-heat the oven to 170 degrees F. and then turn the oven off. Place covered bread in the oven and close the door. I find this usually knocks some time off the second rise time.
After buns are doubled in size, you can brush them with an egg wash and top them with sesame seeds, dried onion flakes, poppy seeds, herbs, or any combination thereof. (But you don't have to.)
Bake in a 400 degree oven for 12-15 minutes. Start watching for the dreaded over-browning at around the 10 minute mark. The smaller the buns are, the quicker they'll get done. When golden brown, remove from oven and let cool.
Nearly five months later, we're still going strong: no white flour (and very little of any type of flour, actually), no white starches, no cane sugar (and little of any sort of sugar), no high fructose, and little-to-no dairy. (A lady has got to have cheese every now and again, doesn't she?) We feel great and have incorporated the changes easily into our daily life.
But sometimes, a girl has got to have a real-life bun. Just sometimes. I've been playing around with creating a recipe for whole wheat buns that works: it must use only whole wheat, and must, must, must have a texture that is edible.
I think I've finally figured it out. These use a blend of whole wheat flours. They are soft and not overly dense. Best of all, you can make the dough in your bread machine. Give them a try and see what you think.
 |
| They're not dense. Light and quite yummy. |
 |
| See that texture? No sawdust here. |
What you'll need:
1 cup water
3 TBS milk
3 TBS honey
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
3 TBS butter
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup white whole wheat flour
1 1/3 cup whole wheat flour
3 tsp vital wheat gluten
2 1/2 tsp instant yeast
What you'll do:
Add ingredients to your bread machine pan in the order recommended by the manufacturer. (For mine, it's the order listed above.) Choose the Dough Cycle and enjoy an hour and a half or so sitting and reading a book or something. Be sure to congratulate yourself; you are making healthy buns from scratch, after all.
After the dough cycle is complete, separate the dough into smaller pieces: 8 if you want really big buns; 10 if you want small-medium sized buns. (Be aware that the dough may be on the stickier side. Dip your hands in a little more flour and you'll have no problem shaping them, though.) Place them on a parchment lined (or greased) cookie sheet, leaving about 2 inches between each. Spray lightly with cooking spray and cover with plastic wrap or a light towel. Allow to rise until double--30 minutes to an hour, depending on humidity levels.
**I like to use my oven to proof bread. If you don't have a proof setting on your oven, you can still make it work as a professional "proofer". Set a bowl of warm water on the floor of the oven. Pre-heat the oven to 170 degrees F. and then turn the oven off. Place covered bread in the oven and close the door. I find this usually knocks some time off the second rise time.
After buns are doubled in size, you can brush them with an egg wash and top them with sesame seeds, dried onion flakes, poppy seeds, herbs, or any combination thereof. (But you don't have to.)
Bake in a 400 degree oven for 12-15 minutes. Start watching for the dreaded over-browning at around the 10 minute mark. The smaller the buns are, the quicker they'll get done. When golden brown, remove from oven and let cool.
Friday, March 14, 2014
When The Water Came Back Again
In the end we were without water for one month.
{To recap, we'd had 2 separate people suggest that the frozen water line we were dealing with was not our own. Thus, we couldn't do anything to fix it. When made aware of the situation, our city's initial response was to take no action on our behalf. They hooked us up with a hose from our neighbor's house, so we had "running water", but were told not to use that water for anything other than toilets and laundry due to possible contamination. In addition to the restrictions with the hose, it kept freezing in the frigid temps, despite our keeping a steady flow of water going through it.}
After being told to "wait until it thawed" and not to worry since it was, "just until spring", I took my plea to our city council members. Surely someone in our town must think our situation deserved a little concern. No sooner had my email reached their collective desktops than a flurry of activity followed. First, the city provided us with bottled water. (Finally we had a healthy supply of clean water available for kitchen use and cleaning. That was the first step towards feeling normal.) Next,they sent out 2 additional technicians to attempt to figure out where in the line (and on whose side) the freeze truly was. Both parties determined the freeze was not on our line.
On Tuesday of this week the city sent a street crew to dig the pipeline in the road, hoping to get to the root of the problem once and for all. They arrived early, anticipating a quick find and easy fix; they stayed for the next 5 hours. It turned out the freeze was located right off the main, very much not anywhere near our line at all. Adding to the turmoil was the discovery that the last generation who'd worked this particular stretch of pipe had placed it just 2 feet under our brick street. It lay vulnerable and quite freezable ever since.
When the street crew announced that they'd found and repaired the freeze, I was hesitant to believe them. When they told me to go check our faucets, I was weary of any hope that this had somehow worked. I tentatively turned on the kitchen faucet, wincing in anticipation of yet another failure. The torrent of water that I saw surpassed my wildest expectations.
It was back. Water had found its way into our house again.
The sight was beautiful. In a very strange way, we'd gotten used to what we called our "Situation". But here I was, looking at water flowing through my faucets, from our own pipes. It was amazing. Honestly.
One month doesn't set any records. I know that. But what it did do was give me an appreciation for those faucets in our house. I have new understanding of just how much water I use to do simple things: wash produce, wash dishes, brush our teeth. That's what happens when you are doing all of that with gallon jugs of water; it's all highly measurable.
In a way, I'm thankful for our little misadventure because I know we're taking something out of it. We've gained a little bit of gratitude for something we absolutely took for granted before. I'm not going to sign up for it again, mind you, but I am grateful for the chance to be made aware, just the same.
{To recap, we'd had 2 separate people suggest that the frozen water line we were dealing with was not our own. Thus, we couldn't do anything to fix it. When made aware of the situation, our city's initial response was to take no action on our behalf. They hooked us up with a hose from our neighbor's house, so we had "running water", but were told not to use that water for anything other than toilets and laundry due to possible contamination. In addition to the restrictions with the hose, it kept freezing in the frigid temps, despite our keeping a steady flow of water going through it.}
After being told to "wait until it thawed" and not to worry since it was, "just until spring", I took my plea to our city council members. Surely someone in our town must think our situation deserved a little concern. No sooner had my email reached their collective desktops than a flurry of activity followed. First, the city provided us with bottled water. (Finally we had a healthy supply of clean water available for kitchen use and cleaning. That was the first step towards feeling normal.) Next,they sent out 2 additional technicians to attempt to figure out where in the line (and on whose side) the freeze truly was. Both parties determined the freeze was not on our line.
On Tuesday of this week the city sent a street crew to dig the pipeline in the road, hoping to get to the root of the problem once and for all. They arrived early, anticipating a quick find and easy fix; they stayed for the next 5 hours. It turned out the freeze was located right off the main, very much not anywhere near our line at all. Adding to the turmoil was the discovery that the last generation who'd worked this particular stretch of pipe had placed it just 2 feet under our brick street. It lay vulnerable and quite freezable ever since.
When the street crew announced that they'd found and repaired the freeze, I was hesitant to believe them. When they told me to go check our faucets, I was weary of any hope that this had somehow worked. I tentatively turned on the kitchen faucet, wincing in anticipation of yet another failure. The torrent of water that I saw surpassed my wildest expectations.
It was back. Water had found its way into our house again.
The sight was beautiful. In a very strange way, we'd gotten used to what we called our "Situation". But here I was, looking at water flowing through my faucets, from our own pipes. It was amazing. Honestly.
One month doesn't set any records. I know that. But what it did do was give me an appreciation for those faucets in our house. I have new understanding of just how much water I use to do simple things: wash produce, wash dishes, brush our teeth. That's what happens when you are doing all of that with gallon jugs of water; it's all highly measurable.
In a way, I'm thankful for our little misadventure because I know we're taking something out of it. We've gained a little bit of gratitude for something we absolutely took for granted before. I'm not going to sign up for it again, mind you, but I am grateful for the chance to be made aware, just the same.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
We Are Not Just An Address.
I wish I could say we had the cool waters blissfully flowing in our house again. But we don't.
In an interesting plot twist, we did find out that the frozen line isn't actually ours at all. It in fact belongs to The City. We can't touch it because it is their responsibility.
Furthermore, in a sinister plot development, when told that they had a frozen water line that was negatively affecting households on our street, the response was "They will have to let it thaw".
Does that sound right to you? Because it doesn't sound right to me. In my way of thinking, when you know that a service you are charged with doling out and are responsible for caring for is broken, you need to apply some method to fix it. Waiting for The Thaw is simply not acceptable in my mind's eye. And one only has to glance at a long range forecast for our area to see how truly disheartening that pronouncement really was. (It appears Spring is going to be very late to the party this year).
Without intervention, we are looking at weeks or months before the frost line ebbs enough to loosen its grasp on whatever do-dad is frozen under the cement. Weeks and weeks of this constant interruption; in your face, always reminding you. "I'm still here."
It's not just the "inconvenience" factor that has my feathers ruffled here. Running water in the house is, after all, a First World problem. But there is a bit of a safety issue as well. We have a garden hose supplying our water. A garden hose with no federal regulations behind its manufacturing. Lead? Chemicals? Microbes? All of the above? That's our water.
Until "It Thaws."
I don't even want to go into the amount of water gushing down our drain right now. In order to keep our "hose-lifeline" from freezing (which it's already done twice now in the 9 days we've been relying on it), we have to keep a strong stream of water flowing. 25-30 gallons of water per hour. Do the math on that and it's staggering. Thousands of gallons of water absolutely wasted. Down the drain.
Until "It Thaws."
My husband trekked down to City Hall today with one purpose in mind: to put a face to a situation. We are not an address. We are a family. This is very real to us and has consequences for our family. He was able to speak to the manager of city utilities, and although we don't know yet what (if any) impact his conversation will have on the situation, at least City Hall knows we exist. Whether they do anything about our problem, or sweep it under the rug (out of sight out of mind), we are here. And we deserve a whole lot better than being a forgotten casualty of an extreme winter freeze.
In an interesting plot twist, we did find out that the frozen line isn't actually ours at all. It in fact belongs to The City. We can't touch it because it is their responsibility.
Furthermore, in a sinister plot development, when told that they had a frozen water line that was negatively affecting households on our street, the response was "They will have to let it thaw".
Does that sound right to you? Because it doesn't sound right to me. In my way of thinking, when you know that a service you are charged with doling out and are responsible for caring for is broken, you need to apply some method to fix it. Waiting for The Thaw is simply not acceptable in my mind's eye. And one only has to glance at a long range forecast for our area to see how truly disheartening that pronouncement really was. (It appears Spring is going to be very late to the party this year).
Without intervention, we are looking at weeks or months before the frost line ebbs enough to loosen its grasp on whatever do-dad is frozen under the cement. Weeks and weeks of this constant interruption; in your face, always reminding you. "I'm still here."
It's not just the "inconvenience" factor that has my feathers ruffled here. Running water in the house is, after all, a First World problem. But there is a bit of a safety issue as well. We have a garden hose supplying our water. A garden hose with no federal regulations behind its manufacturing. Lead? Chemicals? Microbes? All of the above? That's our water.
Until "It Thaws."
I don't even want to go into the amount of water gushing down our drain right now. In order to keep our "hose-lifeline" from freezing (which it's already done twice now in the 9 days we've been relying on it), we have to keep a strong stream of water flowing. 25-30 gallons of water per hour. Do the math on that and it's staggering. Thousands of gallons of water absolutely wasted. Down the drain.
Until "It Thaws."
My husband trekked down to City Hall today with one purpose in mind: to put a face to a situation. We are not an address. We are a family. This is very real to us and has consequences for our family. He was able to speak to the manager of city utilities, and although we don't know yet what (if any) impact his conversation will have on the situation, at least City Hall knows we exist. Whether they do anything about our problem, or sweep it under the rug (out of sight out of mind), we are here. And we deserve a whole lot better than being a forgotten casualty of an extreme winter freeze.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
One Day This Will Be Funny
And still we continue with no water at our house.
Memories of a tropical vacation are tanned into our skin; they clutter up the table as souvenirs not yet relocated to their new cold-weather housing; they are scattered on the floor of our van, millions of grains of a far away coastline transplanted to Ohio.
The strange reality of frozen pipes and a waterless existence sits at pointy odds with the memories of that Utopian place we were in not that very long ago.
In my last entry I spoke of how we were marching on, faces high, spirits soaring, thanks to the hose connecting us to our neighbor's house and supplying an adequate supply of water for everyday life. There was boiling, but at least there was water. Running water.
Sadly, a new and cruel trick has taken even that little comfort away. The frosty fingers of our house have gotten ahold of not only the hose (which is easily thawed out of her icy clasp), but also all the valves between the two spigots. Our Ice Queen, spreading her Plague to others. Watch out, it's catching. No antibiotic for this one, kids. Sorry.
So now we sit with no water. At all. Think about that for a moment and you'll understand the frustration. No water to cook or clean. No water for washing. A dry tap for showers and tooth brushing. And when "Nature Calls" (and she surely does; especially when she knows you have recently immigrated back to the 18th century), there becomes quite an issue.
Still sitting. Still waiting. (Just not quite so patiently.)
I am told that one day this whole thing will be very funny. That we will get a hearty chuckle out of it as we recall with laughter "That time when we were out of state and our pipes froze, so we had to get water through a hose from the neighbor's, only the hose froze followed quickly by the valves. And then we went 2 full days without a single drop of that molecular miracle in our house".
What a hoot! A real riot!
Yes, one day this will all be funny. It surely has the makings for a doozy of a tale. But not yet. Not nearly yet.
I'm pretty sure all laughter must wait until there are flushing toilets in my house.
Memories of a tropical vacation are tanned into our skin; they clutter up the table as souvenirs not yet relocated to their new cold-weather housing; they are scattered on the floor of our van, millions of grains of a far away coastline transplanted to Ohio.
The strange reality of frozen pipes and a waterless existence sits at pointy odds with the memories of that Utopian place we were in not that very long ago.
In my last entry I spoke of how we were marching on, faces high, spirits soaring, thanks to the hose connecting us to our neighbor's house and supplying an adequate supply of water for everyday life. There was boiling, but at least there was water. Running water.
Sadly, a new and cruel trick has taken even that little comfort away. The frosty fingers of our house have gotten ahold of not only the hose (which is easily thawed out of her icy clasp), but also all the valves between the two spigots. Our Ice Queen, spreading her Plague to others. Watch out, it's catching. No antibiotic for this one, kids. Sorry.
So now we sit with no water. At all. Think about that for a moment and you'll understand the frustration. No water to cook or clean. No water for washing. A dry tap for showers and tooth brushing. And when "Nature Calls" (and she surely does; especially when she knows you have recently immigrated back to the 18th century), there becomes quite an issue.
Still sitting. Still waiting. (Just not quite so patiently.)
I am told that one day this whole thing will be very funny. That we will get a hearty chuckle out of it as we recall with laughter "That time when we were out of state and our pipes froze, so we had to get water through a hose from the neighbor's, only the hose froze followed quickly by the valves. And then we went 2 full days without a single drop of that molecular miracle in our house".
What a hoot! A real riot!
Yes, one day this will all be funny. It surely has the makings for a doozy of a tale. But not yet. Not nearly yet.
I'm pretty sure all laughter must wait until there are flushing toilets in my house.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Just Wait
Our house has no water.
Well, that's not entirely true. We have water - courtesy of the hose from our neighbor's house set up by the water department. An umbilical cord of sustenance, linking us across the bridge of a cement driveway. (Aren't metaphors fun?)
The beginning of this sordid tale of Water Woe dates back to over a week ago. We were on vacation. In Florida. (Where there was no snow or sub-zero temperatures, incidentally). In some strange mismatch of realities, I got a call letting me know that our little red house in Ohio suddenly had no water. Poof. Just like that.
Let me tell you, nothing is quite so much fun as being 1,200 miles from home (in a sunny utopia) and finding out that your house sits frigid; the captive of a malicious Ice Queen. Frozen.
The flurry of frantic calls to various "rescuers" that ensued did little to perk our spirits, nor did it entice us to hasten our return back to this Arctic plain of frozen frustration. But here I now sit, in a house still waiting for The Great Thaw, apparently.
Not to sound ungrateful, but can I just put it on record that I'm tired of this? Never before did I realize how utterly (and Everyday-Life-Depends-On-It) important a tap streaming with clean water really is. Never before have I so hated a single piece of ice, such as the one lodged somewhere in our service line and wreaking sheer havoc and upheaval on our daily lives.
It's been a week in this new reality of ours. Everyday has been brought to us by the word "Boil"; as in, "Boil water before drinking", "Boil water before washing dishes", "Boil water before rinsing the produce", and "Boil water used for brushing your teeth." Boil. Boil. Boil. My stock pots have never worked so hard in all their stainless steel lives.
Probably I could have more of an adventurous spirit about this if it were the absolute only predicament in which we found ourselves. However, we are also dealing with the unnerving issue of a dishwasher that had been incorrectly installed (and year ago), and consequently broken (a year ago); and which has been leaking every single cycle ever since. For a year. It seeped under the kitchen floor, hiding the damage being done, until finally it started buckling the floor completely. Ruining it. The repairman who diagnosed the whole thing told us not to touch the dishwasher. Or use it. At all. It's been disloyal.
Naturally the installation company is insured to cover the damages and replacement costs.
And naturally we can't seem to get in contact with them.
Perhaps it could also be said that everyday is brought to us by the word "Wait". As in, "Wait for the frost line to lessen", "Wait for the grip of winter to release its hold on us", "Wait for the stupid (possibly finger-nail width) piece of ice to finally melt", "Wait for the dishwasher/kitchen floor issue to be resolved". Just, wait.
Most of the time I want to blow a gasket in frustration of all this stupid waiting. But maybe there is a lesson for me to learn as well. There is a lot of good to be had from Just Waiting, after all. I mean, look at the new found appreciation I'll have for modern conveniences like, oh say, clean running water? Hot water on demand? A spiffy machine that cleans your dishes while you go tra-la-ing about? A kitchen floor that doesn't make you trip as you make your way over its up heaved surface? Shiny stock pots, all hung up on pegs and not gurgling away non stop on the stove?
A whole new appreciation for things erstwhile very much taken for granted and UN-appreciated.
Just wait.
Well, that's not entirely true. We have water - courtesy of the hose from our neighbor's house set up by the water department. An umbilical cord of sustenance, linking us across the bridge of a cement driveway. (Aren't metaphors fun?)
The beginning of this sordid tale of Water Woe dates back to over a week ago. We were on vacation. In Florida. (Where there was no snow or sub-zero temperatures, incidentally). In some strange mismatch of realities, I got a call letting me know that our little red house in Ohio suddenly had no water. Poof. Just like that.
Let me tell you, nothing is quite so much fun as being 1,200 miles from home (in a sunny utopia) and finding out that your house sits frigid; the captive of a malicious Ice Queen. Frozen.
The flurry of frantic calls to various "rescuers" that ensued did little to perk our spirits, nor did it entice us to hasten our return back to this Arctic plain of frozen frustration. But here I now sit, in a house still waiting for The Great Thaw, apparently.
Not to sound ungrateful, but can I just put it on record that I'm tired of this? Never before did I realize how utterly (and Everyday-Life-Depends-On-It) important a tap streaming with clean water really is. Never before have I so hated a single piece of ice, such as the one lodged somewhere in our service line and wreaking sheer havoc and upheaval on our daily lives.
It's been a week in this new reality of ours. Everyday has been brought to us by the word "Boil"; as in, "Boil water before drinking", "Boil water before washing dishes", "Boil water before rinsing the produce", and "Boil water used for brushing your teeth." Boil. Boil. Boil. My stock pots have never worked so hard in all their stainless steel lives.
Probably I could have more of an adventurous spirit about this if it were the absolute only predicament in which we found ourselves. However, we are also dealing with the unnerving issue of a dishwasher that had been incorrectly installed (and year ago), and consequently broken (a year ago); and which has been leaking every single cycle ever since. For a year. It seeped under the kitchen floor, hiding the damage being done, until finally it started buckling the floor completely. Ruining it. The repairman who diagnosed the whole thing told us not to touch the dishwasher. Or use it. At all. It's been disloyal.
Naturally the installation company is insured to cover the damages and replacement costs.
And naturally we can't seem to get in contact with them.
Perhaps it could also be said that everyday is brought to us by the word "Wait". As in, "Wait for the frost line to lessen", "Wait for the grip of winter to release its hold on us", "Wait for the stupid (possibly finger-nail width) piece of ice to finally melt", "Wait for the dishwasher/kitchen floor issue to be resolved". Just, wait.
Most of the time I want to blow a gasket in frustration of all this stupid waiting. But maybe there is a lesson for me to learn as well. There is a lot of good to be had from Just Waiting, after all. I mean, look at the new found appreciation I'll have for modern conveniences like, oh say, clean running water? Hot water on demand? A spiffy machine that cleans your dishes while you go tra-la-ing about? A kitchen floor that doesn't make you trip as you make your way over its up heaved surface? Shiny stock pots, all hung up on pegs and not gurgling away non stop on the stove?
A whole new appreciation for things erstwhile very much taken for granted and UN-appreciated.
Just wait.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Our Walmart Has No Hand Baskets.
Our local Walmart no longer has shopping baskets. It's been almost one full year since the ever dwindling pile of them that greeted me just inside the door has disappeared; apparently tapped out completely.
Normally I prefer to go with the flow on little issues, but this one really bothers me. I've asked 4 separate people and have been given four completely different answers in regards to their disappearance and subsequent failure to reappear. They are "on order" was one response. (That is some really show shipping). The powers that be got tired of people walking out with them said yet another informative. (Because they do make the most stunning fashion accessory. I often find myself wondering which shopping basket best coordinates with my outfit. But Walmart-Blue just doesn't ever make the play list.) They were all broken was another possibility. (Nope. Broken would be the wobbly-wheeled cart I seem to get every single time I shop there. Or the other one I get that only turns left. And then there's the one on which 3 of 4 wheels don't turn. Or perhaps the one that leans strangely to the right like it has a flat tire.) The final suggestion from a helpful staff member was the "Truth" that upper management doesn't believe the staff when they tell them the baskets are gone. (Really? Because it is quite shocking. I'd probably be in denial too.)
All I know is that it's really starting to annoy me. Enough to blog about it, actually. (Insert winking smiley face here, if you will.) Is it too much to ask for hand held shopping baskets? Where are the shopping baskets? Is it a conspiracy? Have some decency Walmart; give us back the stupid baskets. Really. Or whatever.
And if the grand plan is to make me use a cart, ergo slyly forcing me to fill it up with cheese curls and soy sauce (just to fill up all the extra space), then the joke's on you Walmart. That's right. Because I throw all my groceries (cheese curls and all) in my reusable Target bags. So there.
Normally I prefer to go with the flow on little issues, but this one really bothers me. I've asked 4 separate people and have been given four completely different answers in regards to their disappearance and subsequent failure to reappear. They are "on order" was one response. (That is some really show shipping). The powers that be got tired of people walking out with them said yet another informative. (Because they do make the most stunning fashion accessory. I often find myself wondering which shopping basket best coordinates with my outfit. But Walmart-Blue just doesn't ever make the play list.) They were all broken was another possibility. (Nope. Broken would be the wobbly-wheeled cart I seem to get every single time I shop there. Or the other one I get that only turns left. And then there's the one on which 3 of 4 wheels don't turn. Or perhaps the one that leans strangely to the right like it has a flat tire.) The final suggestion from a helpful staff member was the "Truth" that upper management doesn't believe the staff when they tell them the baskets are gone. (Really? Because it is quite shocking. I'd probably be in denial too.)
All I know is that it's really starting to annoy me. Enough to blog about it, actually. (Insert winking smiley face here, if you will.) Is it too much to ask for hand held shopping baskets? Where are the shopping baskets? Is it a conspiracy? Have some decency Walmart; give us back the stupid baskets. Really. Or whatever.
And if the grand plan is to make me use a cart, ergo slyly forcing me to fill it up with cheese curls and soy sauce (just to fill up all the extra space), then the joke's on you Walmart. That's right. Because I throw all my groceries (cheese curls and all) in my reusable Target bags. So there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)