Happy Birthday to My Old Man!
Showing posts with label Husband. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Husband. Show all posts
Thursday, June 02, 2022
Monday, December 06, 2021
The Union Prom
My husband was a firefighter and member of the local firefighter's union for almost 40 years. We never once went to the Union Reward Banquet (aka Union Ball or Union Prom).
Until Saturday.
Saturday night we went because my husband had retired in 2020, and there was no Union Ball in 2020 because of the pandemic.
So, all of the retirees were honored Saturday night. There were quite a lot of them, though less than half of them came to the "Union Prom" to receive their chrome-plated axe.
Here are photos from the event:
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| Me trying to be "artsy" with the cellphone camera. |
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| My husband and his cousin with their retirement axes. |
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| My husband had served the longest. When he retired, he was the second-longest serving member of the fire department. |
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| All of the retired firefighters who showed up to claim their retirement axe. |
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| My husband, his cousin, and some fellow I don't know with their axes. |
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| My husband's cousin and his wife. We sat with them. |
Thursday, November 18, 2021
Thursday Thirteen
Today is my anniversary! We've been married for 38 years.
Here are 13 things about my husband.
1. He's kind and generous.
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| He hates to have his picture taken. |
2. He's loyal.
3. He works hard.
4. He is retired from the city fire department, but continues to run a construction company and farm.
5. His hugs are fierce and protective.
6. He likes hunting and NASCAR.
7. He enjoys reading, too, especially Stuart Woods books.
8. He loves the land we live on.
9. He takes good care of his mother.
10. His favorite band is the Rolling Stones.
11. He likes to watch car shows on TV.
12. He is proud of me.
13. He loves me unconditionally.
_____________________
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 731st time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.
Tuesday, August 31, 2021
August 31 Happiness Challenge
It is early, but I am happy this morning because my husband was able to get three more physical therapy visits from our insurance company.
This is health care by insurance company. The doctor sent him to physical therapy, and the insurance company is allotting his visits three at a time. He needs to be going twice a week but can't because of this. Yet some people think this is great health care.
Anyway, he had been waiting on word on three more visits and it came late yesterday, and the physical therapist could see him at 8 a.m. this morning. So not only is he getting his physical therapy, I have a morning alone! I appreciate my alone time.
Each day in August you are to post about something that makes *you* happy. Pretty simple. And, it doesn't even have to be every day if you don't want it to be. It's a great way to remind ourselves that there are positive things going on in our lives, our communities, and the world.
Monday, August 23, 2021
August 23 Happiness Challenge
This afternoon my hubby and I took a long drive to Christiansburg and on into Radford. We never got out of the car and we were listening to a book, but it was nice to spend the time together. It's hot here, too hot for him to be out working, so we wandered around in the air conditioned car, looking at tractor implements.
That's how farm girls and guys get it on, I guess.
Each day in August you are to post about something that makes *you* happy. Pretty simple. And, it doesn't even have to be every day if you don't want it to be. It's a great way to remind ourselves that there are positive things going on in our lives, our communities, and the world.
Saturday, August 07, 2021
August 7 Happiness Challenge
Today, I went to the shoe store with my husband and we found him a pair of boots. (We were all masked up but other people were not. It is nerve-wracking to be in public anymore.)
Each day in August you are to post about something that makes *you* happy. Pretty simple. And, it doesn't even have to be every day if you don't want it to be. It's a great way to remind ourselves that there are positive things going on in our lives, our communities, and the world.
Sunday, August 01, 2021
August 1 Happiness Challenge
A fellow blogger does something she calls the August Happiness Challenge. The idea is to write a line or two about something that makes or made you happy. And she suggests posting the same picture to go with it.
For today, my happiness comes from my husband baking a cake!
Wednesday, June 23, 2021
The Happy Baby
This is another photo my mother-in-law gave us. It is of my husband as a baby with his maternal grandmother (holding him) and a friend of hers.
I wish he still had all of that hair!
Wednesday, June 02, 2021
Monday, March 08, 2021
All About that Shot!
Saturday we went to the drive-through shot clinic at the Berglund Center so my husband could receive the Johnson & Johnson one-and-done shot.
He had no reaction to it at all. I kept a close eye on him but he's not had a single issue. Not even a sore arm.
The drive-through clinic worked well. It was impressive, actually. We were in and out in 20 minutes, and that counts the 15 minute wait period that the Health Department required.
Orange and white cones greeted us as we arrived. At the turn in, someone checked off his name and sent us to the right. We drove up and down and up and down a long line of cones. This seemed a little bit of overkill given there was no line, but perhaps there were lines at other times and this was necessary.
The National Guard members were helping. We stopped at another check point, and were directed to the line with "the guy waving the blue flag."
He sent us down the line where several site shots were set up. They checked the name again (at some point, I don't know when, someone wrote "15 1 P " in soap on the back window, which I assume meant 15 minute wait and only one person was registered to get the shot.
My hubby already had on a short sleeved shirt and no coat, so he rolled down the window. A nice woman gave him a shot, put a Band-Aid on him, and sent us over to the other side of the Berglund Center to wait our 15 minutes.
I'm not sure he gave it the full 15 minutes, but we were out of there and gone.
This was a great experience. He's vaccinated, and that means one of us will be safe. His vaccine also helps me until I manage to obtain mine.
Good job and applause all the way around.
P.S. Husband isn't growing horns, or a third eye, or anything at all. Imagine that!
Friday, March 05, 2021
He's Getting a Shot!
My husband goes tomorrow for his Johnson & Johnson one-and-done Covid-19 shot. This is great news, as neither of us have been able to navigate Virginia's incredibly poor system to schedule this much-needed vaccine.
I will go with him, of course, in case he has any issues, and for moral support.
While we are both under 65, we have co-morbidities that put us in the 1b category, and thus eligible for the vaccine. Virginia's roll-out was, well, bad. The sign-ups were left to individual health districts. There was not a state-wide sign up, and there was no confirmation once you signed up that you actually *were* signed up.
Then it came down to who got to their email fastest with a link to get into one of the clinics offering the shots. Next, it was whoever signed into the CVS sight fast enough.
Virginia wised up and created a stable database, and my husband received an email for the J&J shot clinic this weekend. Had a friend not alerted me that the emails were going out, I would not have been fast enough to get him in - as it was, there were only two time openings left when I hit one, and then I sweated through several pages of required information before I hit the button and his appointment was confirmed.
Having one of us protected will help. His mother has already had the shot, so he will feel more comfortable being around her and he can run errands without as much worry.
My doctor very emphatically simply told me if I caught Covid, I would die. So I have mostly stayed home. Of course, she's also sure I am going to die of a heart attack. She just doesn't know if that will be tomorrow or 30 years from now.
My husband is glad he is getting the one-time shot. As the weather warms up, he will have less time to tend to such things as getting a second shot.
Wednesday, November 18, 2020
37 Years
Today is my wedding anniversary. I've been married 37 years. Funny, in my head I'm only 33!
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| My man doing what he loves to do |
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| Us in 2020! |
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| Us about 15 years ago. |
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| Us 37 years ago. |
Monday, August 10, 2020
My Fireman Gets His Axe
My husband retired officially from the Roanoke City Fire-EMS Department on June 1. Because of Covid, he wasn't able to have a retirement dinner or anything that is normally done for a retirement.
This morning, we went to Roanoke Fire-EMS Station 5, which was the station my husband worked out of and the Battalion Chief's headquarters for the "north side," as his area is called.
As we neared the station, I saw several engines and ambulances parked in the vicinity. My husband saw them, too. "Oh gosh," he said. I thought I would cry but I did not. Several of the stations and most of the administration turned out in force to say, "Farewell," to their former chief.
After 37+ years of service, my man deserved a little something!
When he walked up to greet everyone, it was very emotional to watch. My husband was a well-respected Battalion Chief. Most of the emergency service workers appreciated his efforts to lead them and ensure their safety. He seemed to get along well with everyone when he was working.
The Chief and my husband elbow-bumped in greeting.
They did a lot of standing around and talking. My husband was pleased to see his old friends.
As you can see, there were a good number of people there. The "white shirts" are administrators.
During a presentation, the Chief noted my husband's long tenure with the department.
Everyone watched respectfully.
My husband was the second-longest serving firefighter in the department when he retired.
The Chief presented him with this engraved axe.
The plaque on it has my husband's name, rank, and years of service.
Here they are posing for the camera. (My husband's the one of the left.)
A little handshaking took place. That is why we wash our hands.
Here's a close-up of the axe. I like that the red of the fire engine is reflected in the axe head.
After some of the emergency service workers left, I had him stand in front of his Battalion Chief's
vehicle, holding his axe. Since it was just us and we were in an open space, he took his mask off so I could get a good photo.
Congratulations to my love. He deserved to be recognized for his long years of service and his leadership. I am so proud!
Monday, April 13, 2020
The BIG Announcement
My husband, after 37 years with the Roanoke Fire-EMS Department in Roanoke, Virginia, has retired to work on the farm and install septic systems.
He was a Battalion Chief for the last 10 years of his career. He started there February 15, 1983 and rose through the ranks to run half the city when he was on shift.
He was the second-longest serving firefighter in the department when he retired. One other man has been there a few months longer. He takes with him a lifetime of experience and memory.
I remember when he took the job. We were dating, and he would not propose to me until he had found work that was more permanent than farming and digging septic tanks with his father. (Interestingly enough, that is now what he will be doing.)
His grandfather passed away when he was about two weeks into the job, and he had to take funeral leave right away. He had not accrued vacation when we married in November, so we married over a four-day break.
His work schedule was basically 10 days of 24-hour shifts during the month. However, they rotated and went like this: Monday, Wednesday, Friday - 4 days off - Wednesday, Friday, Sunday - 4 days off - Friday, Sunday, Tuesday - 4 days off . . . hopefully one gets the idea of how that went.
Spending 10 days a month alone did not bother me generally, although it was a given that if the hot water heater was going to go out or something else around the house was going to go whacky, or if I were to become very sick, it would be a day when he was at the fire station and not on one of his off days.
During his off days, he helped his father farm and install septic tanks just as he always did. For the first 10 years of our marriage, he also served a volunteer firefighter with the Fincastle Fire Department, and I was very glad when he gave that up. We saw each other at night and then of course not every night because he was at work. I also had classes at night and then I worked a lot at night after I became a full-time writer/freelance news reporter, so our time together was minimal, really.
Until he injured his arm in 2014, we had not spent more than three weeks together without him having to go back to work. While he recovered from that injury, which occurred on the farm and not at the firehouse, we were together about two months. In late November, he had surgery on his ankle, and we have now spent all of these nights together. As my stepmother said, "You didn't kill him, so that is a good thing."
During his career, there were several incidents that I recall. The first is the Flood of 1985. Roanoke City and surrounding areas drowned in over 11 inches of rain, and he was on duty. I was out at a doctor's appointment. We had no cellphones back then, so it was hours before we each found out the other was ok. He and his crew made some daring and heroic rescues at that time, using the ladder truck to reach out over raging waters to pluck people from streams.
Here's a youtube video about the flood.
He also worked what is locally known as the TAAP fire, when the Total Action Against Poverty building burned down. It was cold and the firefighters all had icicles hanging from their gear as they fought the blaze. I couldn't find any photos of that, though I'm sure there are some somewhere.
Around that same time, Chief Harry McKinney passed away. I attended the funeral because his daughter was my math teacher in high school and we have kept in touch all of these years. I remember feeling so out of place sitting with my husband amongst that sea of blue uniforms. My husband had a lot of respect for Chief McKinney. There is no funeral like a fire service funeral, I must say.
Of course there are many other fires, wrecks, etc., that he worked throughout his career. I have no idea how many people he watched die, how many people he saved when he was working as a medic - those statistics may be kept somewhere, but I doubt it. He was a citizen doing his civic duty, on the job taking care of his community.
This is what one of the firefighters wrote about him on a page dedicated to remembering the firefighters:
"James has served as the Northside Battalion Chief (Battalion 2) for the last ten years. He has served many roles during his tenure and leaves large shoes to fill. James served as chair of the apparatus committee and was directly involved in the design of many of our trucks throughout the years. He also served as one of the original members of our regional Hazardous Materials Response Team. James, regardless of his or other people’s rank, has always been someone that could be easily spoken to and has always been a force to be reckoned with in the firehouse. He has carried a strong presence on fire scenes when a job needed to be done but isn’t one to stand available for a photo."
There aren't many pictures of him at fire scenes. Usually he has his back to his camera in the ones he is in. He never sought recognition for anything he did.
He had intended to return to work following his ankle surgery. His recovery from that took longer than he anticipated, and then the Covid-45 virus hit. He decided he could not risk bringing that home to me (I have asthma) or to his 86-year-old mother, whom he checks on every day. She lives alone but he takes her the newspaper and the mail and checks on her a lot. When we heard the news that the virus had hit the fire department in Lynchburg, I think that sealed it for him.
So his career comes to an end, and he will be back where he started, really, farming full time and running a septic installation business. He loves to do that work, so he will be happy.
I have grown used to having him about the house more, so I don't think I will hit him upside the head with anything. The Covid-45 virus has interrupted our schedules, but it has interrupted the whole world's schedule. Eventually we will find a flow that works for us.
My heart is full of pride for all that he has accomplished. It is no easy task to go from firefighter to battalion chief.
May he enjoy his new life without the fire service and all the stress that brought him.
He was a Battalion Chief for the last 10 years of his career. He started there February 15, 1983 and rose through the ranks to run half the city when he was on shift.
He was the second-longest serving firefighter in the department when he retired. One other man has been there a few months longer. He takes with him a lifetime of experience and memory.
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| Battalion Chief James Firebaugh, 2019 |
His grandfather passed away when he was about two weeks into the job, and he had to take funeral leave right away. He had not accrued vacation when we married in November, so we married over a four-day break.
His work schedule was basically 10 days of 24-hour shifts during the month. However, they rotated and went like this: Monday, Wednesday, Friday - 4 days off - Wednesday, Friday, Sunday - 4 days off - Friday, Sunday, Tuesday - 4 days off . . . hopefully one gets the idea of how that went.
Spending 10 days a month alone did not bother me generally, although it was a given that if the hot water heater was going to go out or something else around the house was going to go whacky, or if I were to become very sick, it would be a day when he was at the fire station and not on one of his off days.
During his off days, he helped his father farm and install septic tanks just as he always did. For the first 10 years of our marriage, he also served a volunteer firefighter with the Fincastle Fire Department, and I was very glad when he gave that up. We saw each other at night and then of course not every night because he was at work. I also had classes at night and then I worked a lot at night after I became a full-time writer/freelance news reporter, so our time together was minimal, really.
Until he injured his arm in 2014, we had not spent more than three weeks together without him having to go back to work. While he recovered from that injury, which occurred on the farm and not at the firehouse, we were together about two months. In late November, he had surgery on his ankle, and we have now spent all of these nights together. As my stepmother said, "You didn't kill him, so that is a good thing."
During his career, there were several incidents that I recall. The first is the Flood of 1985. Roanoke City and surrounding areas drowned in over 11 inches of rain, and he was on duty. I was out at a doctor's appointment. We had no cellphones back then, so it was hours before we each found out the other was ok. He and his crew made some daring and heroic rescues at that time, using the ladder truck to reach out over raging waters to pluck people from streams.
Here's a youtube video about the flood.
He also worked what is locally known as the TAAP fire, when the Total Action Against Poverty building burned down. It was cold and the firefighters all had icicles hanging from their gear as they fought the blaze. I couldn't find any photos of that, though I'm sure there are some somewhere.
Around that same time, Chief Harry McKinney passed away. I attended the funeral because his daughter was my math teacher in high school and we have kept in touch all of these years. I remember feeling so out of place sitting with my husband amongst that sea of blue uniforms. My husband had a lot of respect for Chief McKinney. There is no funeral like a fire service funeral, I must say.
Of course there are many other fires, wrecks, etc., that he worked throughout his career. I have no idea how many people he watched die, how many people he saved when he was working as a medic - those statistics may be kept somewhere, but I doubt it. He was a citizen doing his civic duty, on the job taking care of his community.
This is what one of the firefighters wrote about him on a page dedicated to remembering the firefighters:
"James has served as the Northside Battalion Chief (Battalion 2) for the last ten years. He has served many roles during his tenure and leaves large shoes to fill. James served as chair of the apparatus committee and was directly involved in the design of many of our trucks throughout the years. He also served as one of the original members of our regional Hazardous Materials Response Team. James, regardless of his or other people’s rank, has always been someone that could be easily spoken to and has always been a force to be reckoned with in the firehouse. He has carried a strong presence on fire scenes when a job needed to be done but isn’t one to stand available for a photo."
There aren't many pictures of him at fire scenes. Usually he has his back to his camera in the ones he is in. He never sought recognition for anything he did.
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| Having a square-off with another battalion chief, apparently. |
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| He's the guy on the far right hanging on the hose and shouting orders. Best guess is this was when he was a captain. |
So his career comes to an end, and he will be back where he started, really, farming full time and running a septic installation business. He loves to do that work, so he will be happy.
I have grown used to having him about the house more, so I don't think I will hit him upside the head with anything. The Covid-45 virus has interrupted our schedules, but it has interrupted the whole world's schedule. Eventually we will find a flow that works for us.
My heart is full of pride for all that he has accomplished. It is no easy task to go from firefighter to battalion chief.
May he enjoy his new life without the fire service and all the stress that brought him.
Monday, February 17, 2020
A Long Way
Happy Presidents' Day!
Or maybe it's Happy George Washington's Birthday!
Whichever it is, I hope you had the day off.
We're hanging loose here at the farm, with the husband still hobbling around after his ankle fusion. He's out of his cast and walking boot and into physical therapy. He's having pain, still, which is a concern, but the doctor didn't seem to think it was a problem.
I have not been pleased with the follow-up care with this surgeon. At the moment, I wouldn't recommend him, but to be honest I would rather die than have a Carilion doctor operate on me, so I suppose one must take my anger and condescension toward Carilion physicians into consideration.
At least I'm honest about it. I will be really upset when I wake up one day and find someone from Carilion has performed a heart catherization for that heart attack my primary care doctor insists I am going to have before I am old enough to have dementia.
Anyway, the saga of the husband's foot began on November 22, which was the day of his surgery. We're coming up on 3 months of healing up and being at home.
It's been a long process and much more intense than my husband anticipated.
It is has been exactly what I anticipated.
My husband had arthritis in his ankle and he was walking on the side of his foot. It was painful to watch. He'd been getting worse in the last two years but wouldn't listen when I suggested doing something about it. Finally, it pained him more than he could stand and this surgery was the result.
This is a video I took back in the summer to show him how he walked. I cringe every time I look at it. For some reason it is sideways, sorry about that.
Mostly he's been a good patient. Once the anesthesia was out of his system, he felt a little better. Then he was in a hard cast and he was able to get around on a knee scooter. After a while he grew bored so he started helping with the laundry. I did not complain even though I have never in my life seen someone fold towels like he does. I cringe when I see them but I don't say anything and I leave them alone. It isn't the end of the world if the bathroom closet looks odd.
The fact that he still has pain is frustrating for us both. I did not expect him to magically recover but he seemed to think that would be the case. He wasn't counting on having to relearn to walk, to have to have me standing there constantly going "keep your leg straight" while he walks across the room. He slips easily back into dragging it like he was before the surgery. His hip and knee are accustomed now to the odd limp, not the new gait created by the ankle fusion.
I consider this long extended home-stay to be a trial run at his retirement. Hopefully when he does retire, he will be more active because if I have to watch one more episode of Bitchin' Rides I am going to cancel the DirecTV without telling him. How many car shows can one man watch, anyway? Sheesh.
As regular readers know, I am not a TV watcher. I don't have it on all day when I am alone.
He has it on ALL THE DAMN TIME.
I shut the door to my office a lot now. I can't think straight when I hear the TV running or when I am listening for him. Even after three months, I am not used to having him in the house and I can round a corner to find him standing someplace unexpected and scare myself.
Sometimes, I confess, I've pitched a fit and told him to turn the TV off. Well, more like I demanded he either turn it off or I was going to throw a rock through it.
I listen to music when I'm home alone. I miss my music. He doesn't like my music, because it interferes with the TV racket.
He needs a mancave. One that is not close to the house. Maybe a real cave with bears in it.
Just kidding.
Or maybe it's Happy George Washington's Birthday!
Whichever it is, I hope you had the day off.
We're hanging loose here at the farm, with the husband still hobbling around after his ankle fusion. He's out of his cast and walking boot and into physical therapy. He's having pain, still, which is a concern, but the doctor didn't seem to think it was a problem.
I have not been pleased with the follow-up care with this surgeon. At the moment, I wouldn't recommend him, but to be honest I would rather die than have a Carilion doctor operate on me, so I suppose one must take my anger and condescension toward Carilion physicians into consideration.
At least I'm honest about it. I will be really upset when I wake up one day and find someone from Carilion has performed a heart catherization for that heart attack my primary care doctor insists I am going to have before I am old enough to have dementia.
Anyway, the saga of the husband's foot began on November 22, which was the day of his surgery. We're coming up on 3 months of healing up and being at home.
It's been a long process and much more intense than my husband anticipated.
It is has been exactly what I anticipated.
My husband had arthritis in his ankle and he was walking on the side of his foot. It was painful to watch. He'd been getting worse in the last two years but wouldn't listen when I suggested doing something about it. Finally, it pained him more than he could stand and this surgery was the result.
This is a video I took back in the summer to show him how he walked. I cringe every time I look at it. For some reason it is sideways, sorry about that.
The fact that he still has pain is frustrating for us both. I did not expect him to magically recover but he seemed to think that would be the case. He wasn't counting on having to relearn to walk, to have to have me standing there constantly going "keep your leg straight" while he walks across the room. He slips easily back into dragging it like he was before the surgery. His hip and knee are accustomed now to the odd limp, not the new gait created by the ankle fusion.
I consider this long extended home-stay to be a trial run at his retirement. Hopefully when he does retire, he will be more active because if I have to watch one more episode of Bitchin' Rides I am going to cancel the DirecTV without telling him. How many car shows can one man watch, anyway? Sheesh.
As regular readers know, I am not a TV watcher. I don't have it on all day when I am alone.
He has it on ALL THE DAMN TIME.
I shut the door to my office a lot now. I can't think straight when I hear the TV running or when I am listening for him. Even after three months, I am not used to having him in the house and I can round a corner to find him standing someplace unexpected and scare myself.
Sometimes, I confess, I've pitched a fit and told him to turn the TV off. Well, more like I demanded he either turn it off or I was going to throw a rock through it.
I listen to music when I'm home alone. I miss my music. He doesn't like my music, because it interferes with the TV racket.
He needs a mancave. One that is not close to the house. Maybe a real cave with bears in it.
Just kidding.
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Cotton Candy Clouds for New Year's Eve
The sky this morning had the most interesting splotches of light on the clouds. Some of them looked like puffs of cotton candy at a fair.
We have come to it now, the last day of this year, and of this decade, depending on how one counts decades. At any rate, the "teens" of the second millennium are over and the "twenties" are about to begin.
I doubt they will be Roaring '20s like in the 1900s. But we'll see. By 2025, things might be grooving along as well as one could hope. Or we could all be dust on a barren, dead planet.
Moving on.
My major accomplishment of this year, by far, was writing a 100-page magazine at the behest of the county's 250th anniversary committee. I was asked in March and I finished it in mid-October, for the most part, although I was still proofing copies into December.
My next other accomplishment was being published in Artemis and then attending and reading my poetry at a poetry reading at the Blue Ridge Library in September.
I also managed to hit my 36th wedding anniversary, a feat in this day and age, and I've kept my husband clean, fed, and happy while he recovers from an ankle fusion surgery. I do think we need to build him a man space, though. I miss my alone time and having here 24/7 for six weeks has been nerve-wracking. I'm not used to having him around all the time.
What else happened that was noteworthy this year?
Ah, home improvements. We installed new flooring. Well, actually some of the flooring we installed in 2018 had to be removed and reinstalled, and we went ahead and put in hardwood flooring while we were at it. It has worked well and I think the house has less dust.
Also, we lost a lot of trees. The first blue spruce fell over in a windstorm in February, and the others we removed because they were dying. In 2012, I think it was, we had a drought, and we didn't water the trees because these were established trees - they were nearly 30 years old then - and it simply didn't occur to us to do so. As a result, they each caught a fungus that eventually kills the trees. We tried spraying them annually with fungicide but they were too far gone. Then the ash borers came through and took out the ash trees. So we had the blue spruces removed, and a very large ash, and from the looks of it we will have to have the tree people back to remove at least one more ash in the backyard that is too large to simply cut down. I miss my trees although I do enjoy the new views. We plan to plant something back this spring. I want evergreens, so I need to find a hardy type that will weather our changing climate.
One other thing I did was contact my local officials with concerns about Freedom of Information Act notices and their many closed meetings. This led to a flurry of meetings with county staff that were both perplexing and amusing. Some changes were made because I was right but the county still spends far too much time in closed sessions and it is very secretive about things they really have no reason to be so closed-mouth about. That happened in March.
My nephew married and had a baby. We threw him a combination marriage reception/baby shower in late May. The baby's name is Ellie and she's just starting to figure out she can move around. I think she'll be crawling in the next few weeks.
In late June, I developed a blood clot in my leg. I still have a knot there, although the clot is apparently gone and this is now a big varicose vein. It hurts sometimes, still.
We went to Myrtle Beach in September. I bought a cheap electric guitar, which I am enjoying very much. I'd forgotten how much I like to play an electric guitar. This one is very light for an electric guitar.
That brings us fairly current. It was a busy year. What will 2020 have in store, I wonder?
Friday, December 27, 2019
A Very Rare Sight
This is my husband reading a fiction book. In the 36+ years we've been married, I have never seen him read anything other than tractor manuals, farm magazines, or firefighting books and materials related to his work.
And here he is reading a Stuart Woods book.
Be still my heart.
Monday, December 09, 2019
Friday, December 06, 2019
Post-Op Report
Went with husband to his post-op check up today. My brother actually took him; I followed in my car. Husband did not believe he could ride in my vehicle (I thought otherwise). I have since informed him since that my Camry isn't good enough, we need a third car so my vehicle will be, in fact, my vehicle, since right now we have "his" truck and "our" car and I would like to have a car of my own.
I would like to have a Corolla instead of a Camry, I think. I know he couldn't (or wouldn't try to) fit in a Corolla and I wouldn't have to worry about constantly adjusting the seats and mirrors and finding chewing tobacco spills all over the seat.
But I digress.
At the doctor's office, we saw pictures of the screws and plates in his foot. After the bandages were removed, we realized that he had incisions in more places than we'd been told by the "helper" in the hospital. As I did not talk to the damn doctor (he will always be that in my mind), I am not surprised to find we didn't know this.
The damn doctor looked at his foot, said it was healing nicely, and then sent him off for an x-ray and to have a cast put in place.
Husband chose fire-engine red for his cast color.
Now it is a matter of keeping it elevated and continuing to be non-weight bearing. He is getting along well, really. He's not a demanding patient and now that he is up and around he is doing a few things for himself, like making his coffee
In other not-so-great news, I've developed a sore throat, bleeding sinuses, and an earache. I don't have a temperature and my doctor doesn't work on Friday afternoons.
I tried really hard not to catch something but it is next to impossible to go out of the house and not walk into germs. Plus we've had a lot more people in the house than normal - visitors and home health care folks. Who knows what they drag inside. I have been appalled at the perfume some of the home health care people have worn - one person came in reeking of some smelly-good stuff and I literally had to leave the room and then air out the house after she left.
I plan to complain about many things about Carilion and its drive-by surgery proceedings. This so-called "home health care" is a joke.
Letters are in the works, with cc to Nancy Agee (who is already familiar with me as a champion of those who experience crap at the hands of Carilion, though it's been a few years since my messed-up surgery there).
The community deserves better.
I would like to have a Corolla instead of a Camry, I think. I know he couldn't (or wouldn't try to) fit in a Corolla and I wouldn't have to worry about constantly adjusting the seats and mirrors and finding chewing tobacco spills all over the seat.
But I digress.
At the doctor's office, we saw pictures of the screws and plates in his foot. After the bandages were removed, we realized that he had incisions in more places than we'd been told by the "helper" in the hospital. As I did not talk to the damn doctor (he will always be that in my mind), I am not surprised to find we didn't know this.
The damn doctor looked at his foot, said it was healing nicely, and then sent him off for an x-ray and to have a cast put in place.
Husband chose fire-engine red for his cast color.
Now it is a matter of keeping it elevated and continuing to be non-weight bearing. He is getting along well, really. He's not a demanding patient and now that he is up and around he is doing a few things for himself, like making his coffee
In other not-so-great news, I've developed a sore throat, bleeding sinuses, and an earache. I don't have a temperature and my doctor doesn't work on Friday afternoons.
I tried really hard not to catch something but it is next to impossible to go out of the house and not walk into germs. Plus we've had a lot more people in the house than normal - visitors and home health care folks. Who knows what they drag inside. I have been appalled at the perfume some of the home health care people have worn - one person came in reeking of some smelly-good stuff and I literally had to leave the room and then air out the house after she left.
I plan to complain about many things about Carilion and its drive-by surgery proceedings. This so-called "home health care" is a joke.
Letters are in the works, with cc to Nancy Agee (who is already familiar with me as a champion of those who experience crap at the hands of Carilion, though it's been a few years since my messed-up surgery there).
The community deserves better.
Tuesday, December 03, 2019
Just Another Day
The patient is doing well. He was up a lot yesterday, sitting and watching TV and listening to an audiobook. He is back in the bed more today, so he was probably up too much. However, this afternoon finds him at his own computer, looking at whatever he looks at.
He is now fetching some of his own items. Bottled water, diet Dr. Pepper, his cans of snuff that I am reluctant to give him in the first place. We are finding our new routine, which basically means that my day doesn't start until after 11 a.m., after I get him bathed and fed and all of that.
It is very tiring for him to have an unusable foot. Everything takes a little thought and more time. That goes for both of us.
He watched me carry out the trash yesterday. The bag had grown heavier than I thought (I try to keep them light), so I walked a few feet, felt the pain in my abdomen, stopped, set the bag down briefly, let the pain subside, picked up the bag, walked a few feet, etc., until I reached the outbuilding where the outside trash cans are.
Doable. A little slow, but I am managing. He didn't like it that it took me so long, that I was in the cold that long, that I had to do it at all, really. But it's better out there than stinking up the garage. And it's how I've learned to manage, after 6 years of dealing with my own tiring health issues. I think this has been enlightening for him, to watch me work through my days, getting the laundry done, the dishes cleaned up, still managing the household as best I can.
We have put up a small 3-foot tree that we bought at Walmart. It has no decorations because I can't lift the boxes to get to the decorations. At least it gives off a little holiday light.
My husband packs up boxes as full as he can, and puts things where he can reach them. So the Christmas things are heavy and up high. He is 6' 2" tall and I'm 5' 1' tall. I have a bad back and bad ab muscles, and can't lift much over 10 pounds or so. I could stand on a stool and unpack the boxes from on high, I guess, but I don't see the point. If I decide I simply must have decorations on this tiny little tree, it would be easier to go to the dollar store and buy something cheap to throw on there than to dig out the boxes.
Carilion Transgressions
I was going to write a blog post about my wait at Carilion, but too much time has passed. I think I will, though, leave a list of transgressions here so I can come back to it when I sit down to write a letter to somebody at that facility.
1. The pre-op people said to bring an overnight bag with you. They said it would be placed on the gurney, taken with my husband into surgery, and then it would be there with him when he was sent to his recovery room. But they don't do that anymore. I had to walk the entire length of the hospital, led there by a volunteer, so I could pick up the things he took with him, plus the clothing he had on. Just his shoes are heavy (size 13 feet). So I was stuck with all of this stuff that if the pre-op instructions had been accurate would have been left in the car. They have a disconnect between what actually happens and the instructions. This should be fixed.
2. The PT people need to see the patient prior to surgery to go over ways to maneuver and figure out the best assistance device before the surgery. He saw a PT immediately after who helped him figure out he needed a walker (not something we'd considered), and then for whatever reason Carilion Home Health sent a PT down on Monday to see him. He can't do PT now. That was a waste of money.
3. The occupational therapist needs to see the patient prior to surgery, too, and probably again immediately thereafter. The occupational therapist did the most good when she came to the house.
4. The damn doctor never came to the waiting room to tell me what he did to my husband. He never called or anything. I complained to the nurse after I got to my husband's room and she tracked down an assistant who'd helped with the surgery. I didn't want to talk to an assistant. I wanted to talk to the damn doctor. I still haven't talked to the damn doctor. The damn doctor did talk to my husband but he was just coming out from anesthesia and can't remember anything he said. Not helpful.
5. The valet parking people were rude. I accept some responsibility for this, as we'd given them the extra key fob to the car to park it. We asked for a handicapped spot and apparently those are all in front of the hospital. I didn't realize they were going to place it in a line until they could find a handicapped space for it in front of the hospital. After the volunteer gave me all of my husband's clothing and bags, etc., I decided I'd go put the stuff in the car rather than try to keep up with it. I assumed the car would be parked but it was in a line waiting to be parked when a space emptied out. When I asked where the car was, one of the men handed me the key fob and I went to the car. The key fob was acting funny, I could tell, but I had other things on my mind. I put my husband's clothing in the back seat and couldn't get the key fob to lock the doors. Since I had the other key fob in my pocketbook I thought one was messing up the other. I left the doors unlocked - if anyone wanted his big shoes they could have them - and handed the key fob back to the valet fellow. About an hour later one of the men called me and said my car wouldn't start and he accused me of switching key fobs when I went down before. I did not do that, of course. I went back down to the front of the hospital and found the man, who dared me to start the car with that key fob. I did, because I read the owner's manual to my car and I know that if you put the key fob against the electric start if the fob battery is dead, it will start the car anyway. He basically accused me of witchcraft even after I explained to him how to start a car with a dead key fob, which you would think someone who is working as a car valet would know. Certainly that can't be the first time a key fob for an electric start vehicle has gone dead. Anyway, the man parked my car then tore my paperwork off my key fob and threw at me, after again accusing me of switching key fobs on him (why would I even do that?). It was a dead battery and certainly nothing intentional on my part, good grief. The man was very rude. (It is also possible the damn doctor came out to the waiting room while I was dealing with the rude valet people, but even so, the woman at the waiting room desk had my cell number and knew where I was and he could have called.)
6. We called the hospital on Tuesday, November 26, about pain medication. Carilion called yesterday, December 2, to tell my husband he had pain medication ready at the Riverside pharmacy and we could come and pick it up. A week later. I know there was a holiday in there, but really? We told them to keep their drugs as he no longer needed them.
7. I had called my husband's doctor two weeks before his surgery and told the nurse I wanted help with bathing him while he was doped up on pain killers. We got a PT, RN visits every couple of days, and an OT. How was this helpful, really? What if I had been really, really disabled, like in a wheelchair or something myself? Is this how they deal with this kind of family concern? This makes no sense. The RN visits I am tolerating but he is not running a fever or exhibiting any signs of any problems whatsoever. His pain level is next to nothing. I've had a higher pain level than he has during most of this. Somebody was not listening.
He is now fetching some of his own items. Bottled water, diet Dr. Pepper, his cans of snuff that I am reluctant to give him in the first place. We are finding our new routine, which basically means that my day doesn't start until after 11 a.m., after I get him bathed and fed and all of that.
It is very tiring for him to have an unusable foot. Everything takes a little thought and more time. That goes for both of us.
He watched me carry out the trash yesterday. The bag had grown heavier than I thought (I try to keep them light), so I walked a few feet, felt the pain in my abdomen, stopped, set the bag down briefly, let the pain subside, picked up the bag, walked a few feet, etc., until I reached the outbuilding where the outside trash cans are.
Doable. A little slow, but I am managing. He didn't like it that it took me so long, that I was in the cold that long, that I had to do it at all, really. But it's better out there than stinking up the garage. And it's how I've learned to manage, after 6 years of dealing with my own tiring health issues. I think this has been enlightening for him, to watch me work through my days, getting the laundry done, the dishes cleaned up, still managing the household as best I can.
We have put up a small 3-foot tree that we bought at Walmart. It has no decorations because I can't lift the boxes to get to the decorations. At least it gives off a little holiday light.
My husband packs up boxes as full as he can, and puts things where he can reach them. So the Christmas things are heavy and up high. He is 6' 2" tall and I'm 5' 1' tall. I have a bad back and bad ab muscles, and can't lift much over 10 pounds or so. I could stand on a stool and unpack the boxes from on high, I guess, but I don't see the point. If I decide I simply must have decorations on this tiny little tree, it would be easier to go to the dollar store and buy something cheap to throw on there than to dig out the boxes.
Carilion Transgressions
I was going to write a blog post about my wait at Carilion, but too much time has passed. I think I will, though, leave a list of transgressions here so I can come back to it when I sit down to write a letter to somebody at that facility.
1. The pre-op people said to bring an overnight bag with you. They said it would be placed on the gurney, taken with my husband into surgery, and then it would be there with him when he was sent to his recovery room. But they don't do that anymore. I had to walk the entire length of the hospital, led there by a volunteer, so I could pick up the things he took with him, plus the clothing he had on. Just his shoes are heavy (size 13 feet). So I was stuck with all of this stuff that if the pre-op instructions had been accurate would have been left in the car. They have a disconnect between what actually happens and the instructions. This should be fixed.
2. The PT people need to see the patient prior to surgery to go over ways to maneuver and figure out the best assistance device before the surgery. He saw a PT immediately after who helped him figure out he needed a walker (not something we'd considered), and then for whatever reason Carilion Home Health sent a PT down on Monday to see him. He can't do PT now. That was a waste of money.
3. The occupational therapist needs to see the patient prior to surgery, too, and probably again immediately thereafter. The occupational therapist did the most good when she came to the house.
4. The damn doctor never came to the waiting room to tell me what he did to my husband. He never called or anything. I complained to the nurse after I got to my husband's room and she tracked down an assistant who'd helped with the surgery. I didn't want to talk to an assistant. I wanted to talk to the damn doctor. I still haven't talked to the damn doctor. The damn doctor did talk to my husband but he was just coming out from anesthesia and can't remember anything he said. Not helpful.
5. The valet parking people were rude. I accept some responsibility for this, as we'd given them the extra key fob to the car to park it. We asked for a handicapped spot and apparently those are all in front of the hospital. I didn't realize they were going to place it in a line until they could find a handicapped space for it in front of the hospital. After the volunteer gave me all of my husband's clothing and bags, etc., I decided I'd go put the stuff in the car rather than try to keep up with it. I assumed the car would be parked but it was in a line waiting to be parked when a space emptied out. When I asked where the car was, one of the men handed me the key fob and I went to the car. The key fob was acting funny, I could tell, but I had other things on my mind. I put my husband's clothing in the back seat and couldn't get the key fob to lock the doors. Since I had the other key fob in my pocketbook I thought one was messing up the other. I left the doors unlocked - if anyone wanted his big shoes they could have them - and handed the key fob back to the valet fellow. About an hour later one of the men called me and said my car wouldn't start and he accused me of switching key fobs when I went down before. I did not do that, of course. I went back down to the front of the hospital and found the man, who dared me to start the car with that key fob. I did, because I read the owner's manual to my car and I know that if you put the key fob against the electric start if the fob battery is dead, it will start the car anyway. He basically accused me of witchcraft even after I explained to him how to start a car with a dead key fob, which you would think someone who is working as a car valet would know. Certainly that can't be the first time a key fob for an electric start vehicle has gone dead. Anyway, the man parked my car then tore my paperwork off my key fob and threw at me, after again accusing me of switching key fobs on him (why would I even do that?). It was a dead battery and certainly nothing intentional on my part, good grief. The man was very rude. (It is also possible the damn doctor came out to the waiting room while I was dealing with the rude valet people, but even so, the woman at the waiting room desk had my cell number and knew where I was and he could have called.)
6. We called the hospital on Tuesday, November 26, about pain medication. Carilion called yesterday, December 2, to tell my husband he had pain medication ready at the Riverside pharmacy and we could come and pick it up. A week later. I know there was a holiday in there, but really? We told them to keep their drugs as he no longer needed them.
7. I had called my husband's doctor two weeks before his surgery and told the nurse I wanted help with bathing him while he was doped up on pain killers. We got a PT, RN visits every couple of days, and an OT. How was this helpful, really? What if I had been really, really disabled, like in a wheelchair or something myself? Is this how they deal with this kind of family concern? This makes no sense. The RN visits I am tolerating but he is not running a fever or exhibiting any signs of any problems whatsoever. His pain level is next to nothing. I've had a higher pain level than he has during most of this. Somebody was not listening.
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