February 24 rolled around again (as it does every year), and you would think this would be a cause for celebration. After all, in our family, birthdays are almost bigger than Christmas! We love birthdays and all that goes along with them, and the occasion frequently stretches into "birthday season". (I must confess that John does not share our love/obsession with birthdays. He doesn't expect anything for his, and I'm sure he thinks that we go WAY overboard with all of ours. He humors us.)
Unfortunately, this was probably the saddest birthday I've experienced so far, although when I think about it, my body was actually reminding me that I AM getting older.
I have had excruciating hip pain since last May when I took up running again. I tried physical therapy over the summer in Michigan, but it didn't help. A month ago, I got a cortisone injection in my hip (after seeing two different doctors for this). I was given the diagnosis of trochanteric bursitis, and in the grand scheme of things, the cortisone injection is the last resort and should resolve any problems.
After walking around Ann Arbor with Johannah and spending three of four days driving in the car, I could hardly walk by Monday morning (my birthday). In fact, I can't remember much of what happened around that time which reminds me of other moments in my life--broken ankle moments, back surgery moments--and which indicates that I was in a crazy amount of pain.
Because John was only 24 hours post-op, he couldn't do any driving for a couple of days. He had been looking for a specific birthday gift for me, and he counted himself lucky when he found it the Saturday before my birthday. As he told me, it was "only an hour away", and he asked if I could drive him there.
Let's review the facts here. I could hardly walk, and driving only makes it worse. I woke up Saturday morning almost immobile, wondering if I would be able to actually walk from the car into the performance hall for Johannah's concert that evening. And he wanted me to drive? For my own birthday gift? I asked him if he could just have it shipped, but no--he didn't want to pay for it. So, I spent almost four hours on Saturday afternoon driving John to pick up my birthday gift (he underestimated the driving distance, can't you tell?)
So, Monday morning I rolled out of bed to help the girls get ready for school (yes, I still pack their lunches). Turns out, my beloved girl Hannah, had woken up at 4 a.m. to go to Walmart to buy party supplies and had spent the rest of the time decorating the kitchen and making me pumpkin-chocolate chip muffins with fresh fruit. My heart just melted for her thoughtfulness.
Normally, I would have been off the charts excited to see all of this--I've NEVER been thrown a princess party--but it was all I could do to don my party hat and put on a good face.
I DO remember letting the girls go to school late so that we could play "Der Dieb von Baghdad" as we ate breakfast together. Like I said, nothing is too much on a birthday!
John was going to let the dogs out before he left for work, and I told him to only put them in the fenced-in area, because they have all been going past the line for the electric fence (because of all the snow). Too, John had promised me that he would check a tire on the Volvo that has repeatedly been losing air.
This might have all gone according to plan if John wasn't still foggy from having his knee scoped two days earlier.
Lucky me, John had made an appointment for me to get another injection that day...on my birthday. It really isn't lucky, because it's just crazy. I'm fine with the injection. I've had so many surgeries over the past few years that I don't have any of the symptoms of pain that I used to have--nausea, sweats, symptoms of shock. Doctors can do pretty much anything to me now, and I don't even react. Too, I get allergy injections all the time. No big deal.
What IS a big deal is my reaction to a high dose of steroids. The family has numerous jokes about the change in my attitude and demeanor when I go on steroids before SCUBA diving ("'roid range" is a favorite, and the fact that I need only 2-3 hours of sleep at night is pretty amazing). However, this injection is more than just a couple of 10mg tablets. While the pain goes away pretty quickly, the symptoms do not. Combine that with the fact that my body had been pushed beyond normal limits for the past few days, and I was not a happy birthday girl.
So, it was 20 minutes prior to my appointment, and I got ready to leave. I called in the dogs, but only 3 of the 4 came in. Roxy, our oldest and smartest dog, was absent. I called John and almost spit nails when he told me that he had not put the dogs in the fenced-in area, but had just let them out in the yard. The yard where they have been running through the fence. I went to the different doors of the house looking for her, but no response. After a few minutes, I finally saw her, down the walking path that surrounds the park adjacent to our property. It will come as no surprise that she wouldn't come to me, because she knew she was in trouble.
Let's put this in perspective. I couldn't walk any amount of distance, we have received FEET of snow over the past few weeks, and my appointment was now beginning in 15 minutes. I began chasing after her....in my shoes. It was only a few seconds before my feet were soaking wet.
I was so mad at John--seriously, I was cursing the fact that I ever allowed him to father any of my children!
Fine. If I drove quickly, I could just make it to my appointment, wet feet and all.
I got in the car. My Volvo is a dang amazing vehicle, and when something is wrong, it actually leaves me messages about what needs to be done. No sooner had I started the engine, then the message popped up on the dashboard, "Tire air pressure needs to be addressed immediately." This is different from the occasional message that states, "Tire air pressure is low." This was serious business.
Of course it was. John had completely forgotten about checking my tire, and I can't blame him. The fog of post-anesthesia is pretty thick. However, this, following the incident with the dog, and I wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
I swung by Sheetz for air. As you can probably imagine, it was all I could do to actually get down on the ground to fill the tire with air. The pain was unbelievable. So was the tire pressure: 13 psi (35 psi is normal).
By this time, I was going to be 15 minutes late for my appointment. Having worked in doctors' offices before, I know how important it is for patients to be on time (not to mention the fact that I'm a time freak anyways). I knew though that I needed the injection so I hoped for the best.
When I walked in, I didn't make any apology. In fact, I didn't need to, because the secretary didn't even look up at me. For at least a full minute. And I'm standing there, in excruciating pain, worried about being even later.
When she finally took my name and saw when my appointment was, she FINALLY looked up at me, and said, "You know you're 15 minutes late for your appointment." She didn't wait for a reaction, but told me to sit down.
I did sit down. In the waiting room. And I just started crying.
It was a one-woman-only pity party for probably the saddest person on the planet at that moment. Or at least the saddest person in a 20-foot radius. I just couldn't hold it in any longer. So much was beyond my control on a day when, in my mind, everything should have been perfect.
I got the injection.
I walked out to pay. I saw the secretary sitting on the other side of the reception area and knew I had to say something. I didn't want to complain to anyone about her (having seen how devastating that is in our family's personal lives), but I wanted her to know that she could have handled my situation much better.
I walked up to her, leaned over the counter, and in a whisper said, "You know, it would go a long way if you would actually look at people when they arrive. Sometimes the patients here are in a lot of pain and could use a smile and a welcome. I was late today because my dog ran away and I had a flat tire. You could do nothing but criticize me....and it's my birthday. You are a terrible person." And I walked out. No sooner had I closed the Volvo's door than I bust out again.
The rest of the night is a blur, because I can't remember most of it. John wanted to take me out to dinner--not a thing that I needed to do after so much trauma (and I hadn't forgiven him yet)--but I just can't lay aside my feelings of supporting my family and their feelings, even when it's not that convenient for me. I demanded Outback Steakhouse (one of John's least favorite places to go), and I ordered a large Cheese Fries appetizer (something he doesn't ever want to get or pay for). Then, I got just a salad for dinner. I was so miserable, that I wore my coat that looks more like a sleeping bag with arms, and I just kept it on the entire night at the restaurant (something that I oppose on any other occasion).
I thought we would go home and have cake. I've always wanted a Daisy Cake for my birthday, but John refused several weeks earlier to let Johannah order one for me, because of the cost. He told her that he would make me one, and it would be much cheaper. As of today, I haven't seen that homemade cake yet. So, we came home to the decorations still up, plates ready for cake, and had no cake.
To her credit, Hannah finally bought me a cake from Wegman's three days after my birthday. Actually, she deserves ALL the credit for my birthday. She made a HUGE effort to think of me, defying exhaustion and time constraints. The best gift I received that day was knowing that Johannah will be a great woman--she'll be thoughtful of others, and her family will know and feel that they are special....especially on their birthdays.
John on the other hand? Yeah, if I could have gotten there fast enough, I would have PUSHED him into the half-frozen pond yesterday.
Unfortunately, this was probably the saddest birthday I've experienced so far, although when I think about it, my body was actually reminding me that I AM getting older.
I have had excruciating hip pain since last May when I took up running again. I tried physical therapy over the summer in Michigan, but it didn't help. A month ago, I got a cortisone injection in my hip (after seeing two different doctors for this). I was given the diagnosis of trochanteric bursitis, and in the grand scheme of things, the cortisone injection is the last resort and should resolve any problems.
After walking around Ann Arbor with Johannah and spending three of four days driving in the car, I could hardly walk by Monday morning (my birthday). In fact, I can't remember much of what happened around that time which reminds me of other moments in my life--broken ankle moments, back surgery moments--and which indicates that I was in a crazy amount of pain.
Because John was only 24 hours post-op, he couldn't do any driving for a couple of days. He had been looking for a specific birthday gift for me, and he counted himself lucky when he found it the Saturday before my birthday. As he told me, it was "only an hour away", and he asked if I could drive him there.
Let's review the facts here. I could hardly walk, and driving only makes it worse. I woke up Saturday morning almost immobile, wondering if I would be able to actually walk from the car into the performance hall for Johannah's concert that evening. And he wanted me to drive? For my own birthday gift? I asked him if he could just have it shipped, but no--he didn't want to pay for it. So, I spent almost four hours on Saturday afternoon driving John to pick up my birthday gift (he underestimated the driving distance, can't you tell?)
So, Monday morning I rolled out of bed to help the girls get ready for school (yes, I still pack their lunches). Turns out, my beloved girl Hannah, had woken up at 4 a.m. to go to Walmart to buy party supplies and had spent the rest of the time decorating the kitchen and making me pumpkin-chocolate chip muffins with fresh fruit. My heart just melted for her thoughtfulness.
 |
| Here's a panoramic picture of the decorations, taken with my new iPhone. Yep, that's right--I treated myself and the girls to new phones. |
Normally, I would have been off the charts excited to see all of this--I've NEVER been thrown a princess party--but it was all I could do to don my party hat and put on a good face.
I DO remember letting the girls go to school late so that we could play "Der Dieb von Baghdad" as we ate breakfast together. Like I said, nothing is too much on a birthday!
John was going to let the dogs out before he left for work, and I told him to only put them in the fenced-in area, because they have all been going past the line for the electric fence (because of all the snow). Too, John had promised me that he would check a tire on the Volvo that has repeatedly been losing air.
This might have all gone according to plan if John wasn't still foggy from having his knee scoped two days earlier.
Lucky me, John had made an appointment for me to get another injection that day...on my birthday. It really isn't lucky, because it's just crazy. I'm fine with the injection. I've had so many surgeries over the past few years that I don't have any of the symptoms of pain that I used to have--nausea, sweats, symptoms of shock. Doctors can do pretty much anything to me now, and I don't even react. Too, I get allergy injections all the time. No big deal.
What IS a big deal is my reaction to a high dose of steroids. The family has numerous jokes about the change in my attitude and demeanor when I go on steroids before SCUBA diving ("'roid range" is a favorite, and the fact that I need only 2-3 hours of sleep at night is pretty amazing). However, this injection is more than just a couple of 10mg tablets. While the pain goes away pretty quickly, the symptoms do not. Combine that with the fact that my body had been pushed beyond normal limits for the past few days, and I was not a happy birthday girl.
So, it was 20 minutes prior to my appointment, and I got ready to leave. I called in the dogs, but only 3 of the 4 came in. Roxy, our oldest and smartest dog, was absent. I called John and almost spit nails when he told me that he had not put the dogs in the fenced-in area, but had just let them out in the yard. The yard where they have been running through the fence. I went to the different doors of the house looking for her, but no response. After a few minutes, I finally saw her, down the walking path that surrounds the park adjacent to our property. It will come as no surprise that she wouldn't come to me, because she knew she was in trouble.
Let's put this in perspective. I couldn't walk any amount of distance, we have received FEET of snow over the past few weeks, and my appointment was now beginning in 15 minutes. I began chasing after her....in my shoes. It was only a few seconds before my feet were soaking wet.
I was so mad at John--seriously, I was cursing the fact that I ever allowed him to father any of my children!
Fine. If I drove quickly, I could just make it to my appointment, wet feet and all.
I got in the car. My Volvo is a dang amazing vehicle, and when something is wrong, it actually leaves me messages about what needs to be done. No sooner had I started the engine, then the message popped up on the dashboard, "Tire air pressure needs to be addressed immediately." This is different from the occasional message that states, "Tire air pressure is low." This was serious business.
Of course it was. John had completely forgotten about checking my tire, and I can't blame him. The fog of post-anesthesia is pretty thick. However, this, following the incident with the dog, and I wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
I swung by Sheetz for air. As you can probably imagine, it was all I could do to actually get down on the ground to fill the tire with air. The pain was unbelievable. So was the tire pressure: 13 psi (35 psi is normal).
By this time, I was going to be 15 minutes late for my appointment. Having worked in doctors' offices before, I know how important it is for patients to be on time (not to mention the fact that I'm a time freak anyways). I knew though that I needed the injection so I hoped for the best.
When I walked in, I didn't make any apology. In fact, I didn't need to, because the secretary didn't even look up at me. For at least a full minute. And I'm standing there, in excruciating pain, worried about being even later.
When she finally took my name and saw when my appointment was, she FINALLY looked up at me, and said, "You know you're 15 minutes late for your appointment." She didn't wait for a reaction, but told me to sit down.
I did sit down. In the waiting room. And I just started crying.
It was a one-woman-only pity party for probably the saddest person on the planet at that moment. Or at least the saddest person in a 20-foot radius. I just couldn't hold it in any longer. So much was beyond my control on a day when, in my mind, everything should have been perfect.
I got the injection.
 |
| Here's a selfie from beforehand. You can just see the lovely paper blue shorts that I get to wear. What you can't see are the amazingly dark circles under my eyes. |
I walked out to pay. I saw the secretary sitting on the other side of the reception area and knew I had to say something. I didn't want to complain to anyone about her (having seen how devastating that is in our family's personal lives), but I wanted her to know that she could have handled my situation much better.
I walked up to her, leaned over the counter, and in a whisper said, "You know, it would go a long way if you would actually look at people when they arrive. Sometimes the patients here are in a lot of pain and could use a smile and a welcome. I was late today because my dog ran away and I had a flat tire. You could do nothing but criticize me....and it's my birthday. You are a terrible person." And I walked out. No sooner had I closed the Volvo's door than I bust out again.
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I thought we would go home and have cake. I've always wanted a Daisy Cake for my birthday, but John refused several weeks earlier to let Johannah order one for me, because of the cost. He told her that he would make me one, and it would be much cheaper. As of today, I haven't seen that homemade cake yet. So, we came home to the decorations still up, plates ready for cake, and had no cake.
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| The table stayed like this for three days. |
To her credit, Hannah finally bought me a cake from Wegman's three days after my birthday. Actually, she deserves ALL the credit for my birthday. She made a HUGE effort to think of me, defying exhaustion and time constraints. The best gift I received that day was knowing that Johannah will be a great woman--she'll be thoughtful of others, and her family will know and feel that they are special....especially on their birthdays.
John on the other hand? Yeah, if I could have gotten there fast enough, I would have PUSHED him into the half-frozen pond yesterday.
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