Always a bride?

I have a confession to make. I am 44 years old, and I have never been a bridesmaid. So, imagine my glee when I was asked to be a bridesmaid in the upcoming November nuptials, at this spectacular cathedral no less, of two dear friends whom I introduced to one another!






Oh, I've watched numerous A Wedding Story episodes and rejoiced in the happiness that I have never been fortunate to be a part of with wistfulness. Seems friends of mine have always kept their arrangements low key, or distance did not allow for my participation. But, now I am enjoying the much awaited anticipation of the arrival of this beautiful navy gown and slipping on my newly ordered navy pumps to process up this glorious aisle and get misty as my friends say their "I do's."

There is a rehearsal and dinner, a bridal lunch and the fun of doing hair and makeup with the bride. Just pinch me. I feel so honored and thrilled to finally be a bridesmaid and not just a bride.

The right set of eyes

This past Tuesday, I finally got a call from the large Close To Us City Hospice in response to the application I sent to them the week before. A girl named Tisha (pronounced Tee-sha) from their HR department called to say that at this time, the only position they might have to offer me was a "floater" position. As she described this crappy job description three days a week, covering all EIGHTEEN counties they serve, I was recoiling inside. Oh, and it would be "every other Saturday as well." Well now, THAT decision was an easy one! I told her, "Thanks for calling, but I don't think I'd be interested in that position." My bubble was pretty much burst, and I was feeling rather silly for being so sure that they would be mightily impressed with my qualifications and would want to hire me. I began to think about other options, including some smaller hospice organizations here in the area.

Then, yesterday I had a message on my cell phone when I got back to the office. Hmmm.. it was Tisha again. Seems she had "spoken with her supervisor" and when they realized just how impressive my qualifications and experience would be to them, they really didn't want to lose the chance to have me as an employee. She had also spoken with the team leader for the PRN pool, who really wants to have the opportunity to speak with me as she was "very impressed" with my work experience. So, could I please call her and possibly come in (today) for an interview?

Know what? I didn't call her back yesterday. It annoyed me that no one apparently really LOOKED at my resume or qualifications before they had an HR person call to offer me a dirt job. I may call her today, and I may plan on seeing them sometime next week. I am still undecided.

Instant gratification

We are currently trying to finish out the basement space by adding a bathroom, painting, finishing out tile, and installing a more decorative drop ceiling.

Most of this stuff has to be done by professionals, but I told our contractor that yes, indeed, I could paint (and save us a good bit of money). After much indecision, we had finally decided on a warm color called Bagel, which looks like a light camel color, and should compliment the tile really nicely. The lighting is not so great here, and it's not as dark as it looks in this photo.

So, yesterday, I put on my "paint clothes" and started taping around ceilings, baseboards, doors, and windows. As I opened that first gallon, I felt giddy. There's just nothing like slapping a new color on the wall to have an instant metamorphosis in a room, especially once you get the roller out. As you can see above, the original wall color (sunny yellow) is on the far right and the "new" color is to the left. I worked from 8:30-5:30 and only got 2/3 of this side of the room done, but the difference is lovely. My knees hurt and I slept like a log last night, so methinks my career as a painter is past it's prime, but it sure felt good to have that roller in my hand again.

The birding spot

Yesterday, I got the wonderful cedar log swing stained and we put it together last night. It fills this spot a bit more than I anticipated, but it's wonderful! I'll need to get a bit more grass from around the edging and bring in a little more mulch, but it is such an inviting space.


After we were done, I plopped myself down on the swing, and within minutes, I had probably six baby goldfinch join me. I am so close, the zoom should catch the twinkle in their eyes. I've always wanted a space like this, and find myself grinning with glee every time I look out the window.

A girl and her swing... it's a beautiful thing.

Create your own art

(Convergence, 1952)

Can't say I've ever been a huge Jackson Pollock fan, but this web site that has been circling around is pretty darn fun!

Click, drag your mouse around, and have fun!

Love a good bargain

The other day, I went looking for a nice bird bath to put in my mulched area where my feeders are, and where the cedar swing will be. With it being sort of the end of the season, I was hoping to find a good deal. I looked several places where they had run- of-the-mill bird baths, but wanted something a bit more decorative.

I ended up at one of our local garden centers, and was strolling through their outdoor area of statuary and bird baths. I saw this very cute one with some playful squirrels and a "log" type bowl. It was marked $59, but I noticed that there were some hairline cracks just inside the bowl. One of the nice workers there asked me if I needed any help, and I told her that I really liked this bird bath, but was reluctant to get one with cracks in the bowl. We searched about but did not see another one like it, and I did not see any others that caught my eye. "Tell you what," said the savvy, smart garden center person, "I'll let you have it discounted because of the small cracks, how about that?"

We got up to the cashier's stand, and she told the lady ringing up purchases to give it to me for $30!! This thing weighs a ton, so it's very sturdy and I doubt that the cracks will spread. For good measure, once I got it home, the cracks got filled with super glue. The swing is mostly assembled in the garage where we will stain it before taking it out, then we'll get all the green aluminum edging up around the area which will finished it off nicely. Once that's done, I can sit in my swing with camera in hand and just grin.

Going with the flow

(A recent photo taken by my brother-in-law from his plane as he encircled Niagara Falls)
So, do we go with the flow and see where it takes us, or do we keep trying to get to safer, more sure ground? As I am transitioning out of one job and into another, I have had the mindset to just go with the flow and trust that I'll end up where I am supposed to be. Yet, doubt creeps in.

On Friday, I had a conversation with Fred in the Wound Center who was giving me a perspective of why it would be better for me if I at least stayed in the Relief Pool for the wound center. If you stay in the pool, you keep all your seniority and don't have to "start over" as a new employee if you do decide you'd like to return some day. Since I am still technically unemployed, and am not sure how many hours part-time I can get elsewhere, it's tempting. The pay is higher as you don't have benefits, and you only have to agree to work one shift per pay period, every two weeks. Since I am also HBO (hyperbaric) trained, it would really be a benefit to them to have me available.

One minute you are drifting down stream, a smile on your face, enjoying the freedom and warmth of the sun on your face, trusting that you'll end up some place safe and happy, and then before you know it, you are looking over at the bank and finding yourself wondering if you need to get out of the water for safer ground. Do you go towards the safe thing, or risk getting to the calm pool at the bottom of the waterfall?

Praying for Stacy

Yesterday, as I was seeing my last patient of the day in SICU, I heard my name called softly. I turned around to see a woman walking towards me. At first I did not recognize her, as her face seemed spent with swollen eyes dripping long shed tears and red cheeks, but as she came closer, I saw it was Stacy, a friend I'd come to know at my new church.

I immediately put my arms around her and said, "What on earth? What's going on sweetie?" To which, the tears started flowing down her cheeks again. "It's my mom," she choked out. Seems she was at her mom's home the night before when she started complaining of a deep headache. By the time they called 911, she was becoming unresponsive. A major hemorrhagic stroke. She has had diabetes for years, but she's only 65.

"They are waiting for me to tell them it's ok to turn everything off," she whispered. I just held her in a tight hug. She told me that she knew her mom was really no longer in that body, and her hands were lifeless, but how does one choose that precise moment to let someone go forever? All I could say was that I was so very sorry... and offer my hugs and prayers.

I suppose, sadly, the thing that experience being a nurse has given me is to know that if her mom had survived this horrible stroke, her remaining existence would have been so much worse than death. When my time comes, I pray that it's like this... fast and swift... no pain, only glory as I see what awaits me. I pray for Stacy and her family today.

I know it's only paint

"It's only paint," said a dear friend to me the first time I contemplated putting some color on my walls. "If you don't like it, you can paint over it," she assured me. I ended up painting every wall in my house, and loving the end result. Heck, my entire foyer was a tapestry red. I was no longer a color virgin, that's for sure.

So, why is it still so hard to look at all the paint color palettes and to choose one color to paint a room? Our soon to be finished basement is currently a sunny-side-up egg yellow... bleh. Because we are finishing it off as more usable space, that bright yellow just does not foot the bill, however, I am stuck in deciding exactly what color would be best. Most walls upstairs are some shade of gold or warm beige, so we thought a different color down there might be nice. However, as you go down the steps, there are really two room spaces divided by the stairs and only one side (the left) has a window. On the right side, it's bigger, but below grade with no natural light. Any color you choose will look different on each side in different light. I don't want to go with too dark a shade or the side without a window will seem dark and confining. We thought a shade of light moss green would be nice. Do you know just how many shades of mossy green there are? Gold green, blue green, gray green, green green....

The golds are looking nicer and nicer... but then there is the issue of green gold, yellow gold, orangy gold... ugh... deliver me.

Can't wait...

(The ridge behind our old house)

When I went outside to get the paper this morning, it was a crisp 48 degrees, and suddenly this is all I could think of... I am sure Chickadee Ridge will be just as lovely, if not more. I am so ready for fall.

On contentment...

con‧tent‧ment  [kuhn-tent-muhnt] Pronunciation Key - noun

1. the state of being contented; satisfaction; ease of mind.
2. Archaic. the act of making contentedly satisfied.
[Origin: 1400–50; late ME contentement < MF. See content2, -ment]

—Synonyms 1. See happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My sweet English friend in Germany, whom I've become a big sister to of sorts, emailed me last week with some very thought provoking questions.

... So, at what point do you stop reaching for something more and realize that what you have might be plenty?

... How do you know it's the right time to just stop where you are and enjoy your place/job/relationships right now and not wonder if there isn't possibly more for your life? How do you know you are not just settling?

She wanted to pick my brain and call on my almost 15 more years of life experience, and 16+ years of marriage to get my answers to these questions. Boy, howdy. How do you know...

I won't bore you with my answers to her, but would love to hear what everyone who reads this would share with her.

The visitor

The other night, I looked out the back window just in time to see a visitor to the deck. This little guy is not shy in the least bit, and will often stay around the feeders even when we are nearby. In my previous neighborhood, which was a cow pasture before development, it was literally seven years before I saw even one squirrel.


As I was outside watering Sunday evening, I watched him climb down to the pool, creep to the edge and sip a drink of water. I am not at all sure the chlorine is good for him, but it was funny to watch just the same.

I have so many fond memories of squirrels. As a kid, I used to love to watch them scamper and play in a huge oak tree outside my grandfather's bedroom window when I'd awake in the mornings. That, along with the smell of my grandmother's breakfasts are so etched in my mind that I can close my eyes and feel as if I am there again. I can still almost hear the cicadas in the trees outside in the evenings and watch as the squirrels busily hunted and burried their treasures in time for winter.

More than disturbing

There was some recent discussion on the Anglican/Episcopal Beliefnet Message Board about a new film doc called Jesus Camp. I read with some interest about the controversy the film is stirring up, but was not sitting with jaw dropped until I saw coverage of it on the ABC Evening News last night.

As the reporter described how it was all about creating "new soldiers for God's army" I cringed, but as they then showed these young kids gathering around a cardboard cut-out of George Bush and reverently touching his hands, I thought I was going to be ill. This review of the film by David Byrne better defines the danger. Where is the line we just should not cross? Why does this not scare the begeebers out of people?

Beautiful creations

Yesterday, I received a lovely link from my friend Anne to watch May You Be Blessed, a movie created by Kate Nowak to inspire others to see the blessings in each other and life. Just beautiful... Thanks friend.

Speaking of beautiful creations, I also found through Songbird's blog the wonderful sounds of The Wailin' Jennys and have been enjoying listening to their latest creation, Firecracker.

And, the final beautiful creation I found yesterday was this wonderful swing at HomeDepot.com to place in the backyard adjacent to my feeders. The previous homeowners had an area mulched where there was a swing set for their kids, and so we've added mulch, put my feeders in one corner, and I plan on getting a nice birdbath for that area as well. A wonderful haven for myownself to have a perch with my camera as they all come to visit me.

A full day of beautiful creations... and no tears.

Needed tears

(Sunrise off the deck)
Last night, as I was getting ready to get into my wonderful evening bath, my right foot slipped forward. My left leg which was still out of the tub, was scraped along the edge of the corner tile and cabinetry around the tub causing a lovely triangular area of surface skin loss and pain.

Lovely... a big painful triangular raspberry to the side of my left inner knee. As I got my footing, and pulled it over the side of the tub, it was already raised, red, and throbbing. I instinctively grabbed it, as I winced with the pain, and then, I just opened up and cried. I had the thought that it would be nice to be a kid again, and have my mom put some Bactine on it and hug me. It hurt, and I was mad at myself for being so stupid as to even try and get into the tub at that angle with me being so short. I cried for all the stress I feel right now. I cried because of all the stuff we've had going on here for weeks and feelings it's stirred up that are just not normal for me at this point in my life. I cried because I am jobless as of September 29th, and though I know I'll find something wonderful, it's still been stressful working this long notice. I cried because Sam has a head cold/allergy exacerbation going on for two days now and is obsessing non-stop about how stuffed up he is. I cried because although change is good, too much change tips the balance of daily life, and I yearn for some balance again. I cried because I have not had a good cry in a while. Much needed tears, and probably more need to come.

Right at home

Soon this pretty male goldfinch will fade and become a drab olive in preparation for the winter, but he'll hang around. The thistle is too tempting.

My birds have really begun to feel at home on the feeders. So much so, that they will come regardless of how close you are, which is so lovely. The other day, as I stood almost next to feeder off the deck, three brown headed nuthatches descended together to sneak some seed. They acted as if I was not there at all. Once the deck chairs arrive, I will have some awesome photo ops.

(Can you tell I have nothing to say today? I am babbling to keep my mind off the 600 pound, five foot tall woman I saw yesterday who was immobile at home and being fully neglected. It took six of us an hour to turn and bathe her. That's just all I can even say about that. Birds... yes, the beautiful birds... Two more weeks, Lord, just get me through two more weeks.)

Perched and still

I sort of feel like this little girl I saw the other day perched on the hosta in the yard adjacent to the feeder. She was hanging on to her footing precariously. Stems were swirling in the breeze around her, and yet she seemed deep in thought. Maybe she can't figure out the path to take, or even at what point she needs to begin her long, scary journey south to warmer winds. So, for now, she'll just sit a bit and hang on tightly. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it will be cold soon and she needs to be on her way. The warmer breezes await, and she'll just have to trust that she can get there.

Rachael Ray I'm not

Oh, how I envy people who love to cook. I wish so badly that it appealed to me in the least bit, but it's always seemed like an impossible chore. Something dreaded, something like slogging through quicksand. If I am following a recipe, I am constantly looking back and forth to make sure I am getting the correct amounts or not leaving anything out. I've just never developed a fondness for it... period.

However, I do make some wonderful vegetable soup (thanks to my mom's easy recipe), and with yesterday being a damp, cooler day it sounded wonderful for dinner last night. So, for those who also really don't relish cooking, here is the secret recipe that takes all of 15 minutes to throw in a pot. For those who are purists and will find themselves wincing at my use of all things canned, I apologize in advance.

1 medium onion chopped (this takes the longest...lol)
3 tsp. minced garlic (yes, the stuff in the jar located in the produce section)
1 lb. lean ground beef
1 can Green Giant extra sweet corn
1 can of Lesueur baby peas with pearl onions
1 can of sliced carrots
1 can sliced mushrooms
1 can of light red kidney beans
1 can of V-8 juice
1 can of Hunts garlic and oregano tomato sauce
2 cans of water (I use the tomato sauce can)
1/2 cup veggie macaroni bows

Saute the onion and garlic in EVOO (Rachael's term for Extra Virgin Olive Oil) until translucent. Brown the ground beef and drain. Open everything (maybe that takes the longest) and dump into a large pot (everything except the macaroni) and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a low boil for 35-40 minutes stirring occasionally. Add the macaroni and cook an additional 15 minutes. Really good, really easy soup. So, there. That's about as far as my culinary skills go these days. When I grow up, I really do want to be Rachael Ray though.

And just like that...

Getting Sam to be independent with certain tasks has always been a struggle. There is just not much internal motivation, and many things, like hair washing, have that sensory component of getting water, and possibly suds, in your face which he abhors. So, for the past years of his showering independently, I've had to go in and help him get his head and hair washed. I have pondered finding one of those half visor things which would divert the water and suds should they roll down his forehead, but usually have been successful having him just hold his head back while I rinsed. It's one of those things that I've often wondered at what point he'd finally at least want to try, as he's getting older and I truly have no business standing on the edge of the bathtub over him in the shower.

Well, I had told him we'd have to get his hair washed last night, but I was at the block captain's meeting until almost 9PM. I came in the door, and he rushed down the stairs to greet me with a huge smile on his face, "Look mom! I did it! I washed my hair all by myself!" As he stood there on the stairs beaming with his wet head, I wanted to cry. Just like that. He did it. All by himself. Thanks be to God. What a sweet, sweet thing. Silly to most people, but huge in our house.

The new captain?

So, yesterday while I was gone to church, husband gets a call from the neighbor across the street inviting me to a Neighborhood Watch meeting scheduled for Monday night and asking if I'd be the "captain" for our street. Initially, I was really put off that she'd even ask as we've been here for what? Six weeks? I don't know a single soul really, and no one has gone out of their way to welcome us here, except for her husband, whom my husband already knew since they used to work together. Granted, this is a cul-de-sac and there are only six houses total on our street, including one for sale and one just built and now for sale.

I called her back to chat and get more details and she, who is already "too busy" with being the neighborhood association co-chair person, wanted to see if I'd be interested since no one else on the street has ever been. Seems the gal who lived here prior to me was the captain for this street. I asked her what all it entailed to which she answered, "Oh, it's really easy.... you know... if someone is going out of town or something, they can call you and you can sort of keep an eye out on their property while they are gone." Hmmm... and I thought that was just what good neighbors did. So you have to call it an official "watch" so people will look out for one another?

So, I'll go to the meeting tonight at 7PM, and at least get acquainted with the other "captains" of this neighborhood. That alone I suppose is a good enough reason to participate since I am new here. Sign of the times we live in I suppose.

Quote for the day...

(One of the beautiful Crepe Myrtle in bloom in the back yard)

Why I simply adore Anne Lamott....

From an "O" Magazine article (July 2006, which I am just now catching up on) entitled The Binge from Hell (and Back):


..."I prayed for God to help me find my way out, and what I heard was, Call an understanding friend. But something edgier was speaking more loudly, and I pricked my ears at its sound, even though an old man at church once told me, "Never give the devil a ride. Because if he likes the ride, pretty soon he'll want to drive." And it felt like someone determined and famished had taken the wheel."

And with a deep breath...

I clicked on "send" and resigned my position at the hospital as of September 29th...

Friday morning I went in to find that I had nine new patients to see, two I did not see on Thursday, and another two that needed to be seen the day before but weren't. Generally, for me seeing seven to eight patients in the six hours I am there is busy enough. New patients take longer as you are doing an initial assessment with measurements, etc. I was almost in tears by 8:30 as I sat there looking at the orders mocking me.

I don't have a job yet, but somehow I feel free. Frightened, but free.

Yahoo... it's done... sort of

I've learned many things in the process of having our deck replaced. The big thing is that when most construction people tell you they can "knock it out in a couple of days" they don't mention that they live on Jamaican time...yah mon.

This little project started a week ago Wednesday, and after many 12 hour days, it's finally mostly done. They still have to stain the lattice and the wood frame it sits on, and the "gutter man" still has to come by to cut holes for the downspouts, but the finished product is beyond our expectation. We were lucky to get a sub-contractor who is a perfectionist. His large yellow level lived on this deck for a week. I asked him tongue-in-cheek what that new fangled technology was that he was using, and told him he should share that big secret with other builders, as there was not a level board on the deck they demolished. Installation of the posts and railing took them almost as long as building the frame and the flooring, as his crew was not used to doing a Trex rail. He jokingly said (at least I think he was joking) that his crew would all "be on nerve pills" after this experience.

As you can see from the "before" photo, the original design was done in a way to split the deck from the side porch off the kitchen. We decided to take down that rail and connect the two to make the space flow more easily and to actually get more use out of the covered side porch. I can't wait for the fall breezes as we sit and enjoy this beautiful space while watching the birds or enjoying the beautiful sunrise and sunsets.

Where's that button when you need it?

So, yesterday, I was browsing around the music store at iTunes looking for some new "bath music." I always have my handy CD player with little speakers by the side of the tub and enjoy everything from Kenny G to Suzanne Ciani to John Tesh. Hmmmm.... I decided to check out all the creations by Jim Brickman, and found one to download I'd not heard before called No Words.

I got it downloaded and then moved it to a playlist by itself so that I could burn a CD. I selected all the tracks and hit the "burn" button, expecting a prompt to insert my CD-R, but instead, um... it started burning the CD. I was confused as I had not put my CD in yet and then the terrible truth hit me that there was already one in the computer and I was overwriting whatever was on it! YIKES! I was furiously trying to find the STOP button or a way to make it halt, but could not. Oh me, oh my... I just knew it was one of husband's CD-R's from work, and here I was putting Jim Brickman over whatever important documents were on there.

I never could get it to stop or cease and desist, and so was sitting here at the desk sheepishly when he came home. I told him I had no clue that there was already a CD in there as it generally shows up on the desktop that one is in there, but there was not one showing. I asked him if what was on there was important to which he slyly replied, "Only all the secrets of The Wonderful Warren Buffett Company." Whew.... it was a blank one after all and I had not put Jim Brickman over any spread sheets. Next keyboard we get needs a no fail cease and desist button!

Selling yourself

It's funny, but as I have grown mentally and spiritually, I really do have a solid sense of what I am worth to an employer. As I have talked to various people at work about leaving and choosing another career path, and they've asked me where I'll go, I have been very definitive in telling them "I am considering working for Hospice." Not "I am hoping Hospice will consider me."

I have fully grown to appreciate and own the value I bring to a potential employer, one which this current one has not particularly acknowledged. Fact is that I can say with no shame that the type of employee I am only part-time is many times more valuable than my full-time counterparts. I know that whatever employer I work for will be pleased to have me and thrilled with my job performance and would wish that they had ten more like me. How can I be so sure? Because I have been working long enough to know what separates me from the rest. I feel no need to sell myself.

Only a short seven years ago, I could not have said this, nor would I have. But, I have grown, and my forties have lent me permission to be proud and own the truth of who I am. Here I am! They'll love me! Why on earth wouldn't they?

First a thunk to the head... now a brick

On Tuesday of last week, I had a wonderful 20-25 minute conversation with The Nurse Who Had Left My Hospital after 25 years to go work at hospice. She told me that when she met my mom and dad and heard I was contemplating hospice, she just knew she needed to talk to me and let me know how rewarding it's been in her life. She said it was so much more than a job to her. I fully "got it" and said, "Yes! It feeds your soul." As I told her how I was feeling and about the reasons why I needed a change, she said, "You sound just like I sounded when I was ready to leave." She encouraged me to talk to the good people at Hospice and was sure they'd be so happy to have me and would be able to work within the parameters of my schedule needs. I thanked her for her time and her honesty about her own experience and told her I'd be in touch.

Fast forward to church on Sunday. Prior to the service, our rector was going over announcements. The very last announcement hurled a brick at my head. Seems one of our parishioners recently went through a parish nurse training course, and was going to be starting a parish nurse program for our congregation. He said, "She has some wonderful ideas about how we can nurture our bodies in a healthy way and address our minds and spirits as well. If you would like to know more or offer your assistance, please contact... The Nurse Who Had Left My Hospital." Yes, she apparently goes to my church, and is an 8:00 service gal whom I've never met. I about fell out of my seat. I smiled through the entire service at the "signs" I am receiving. As in the very neat book above by Squire Rushnell, a true God Wink.

Glowing with contentment

Since our move, we've been going non-stop. If we were not unpacking, we were finding things we needed to change or alter. One thing, in particular, was our deck on the back of the house. It was so settled that the back steps went down at a sharp sloped angle and the posts were separated from the railing. We knew we had to get that fixed. All week, my yard has been awash in testosterone as men tore away the old deck to put up a new one. We decided to connect it to a side porch off the kitchen which increased it's size and potential use very nicely. A flurry of hammering and sawing each day... hopefully it will be finished tomorrow with the addition of the railing.

On Saturday, we had our first official "cookout on Chickadee Lane" with my family here to celebrate. It was wonderful. The kids swam, we cooked out on the grill (though it was on the driveway and not the deck), watched football, and just generally had a great time being together. It fully reinforced to me how much I simply adore living in this space.

Yesterday, we finally had some down time, and so I took off outside with my camera. I found this sweet young finch sunning himself on the feeder. He was so sleepy, that I was able to get fairly close for this photo before he realized that he'd been caught in his nap. I am looking forward to things settling down and getting back into our normal routines here in this magical new place we call home.

The amazing brain of autism

My husband's aunt N. is a retired special education professor, who now calls a lovely barrier island in Georgia home. She recently sent me a link to a wonderful example of how the autistic brain can work.

It's just astounding... enjoy!

http://www.wisconsinmedicalsociety.org/savant/wiltshire_highres.wmv

Being the bad/good guy

This week, I had to be the bad guy/good parent because of someone's twisted sense of humor. Sam loves to surf the web, and as such, we have parental controls on his computer which limits what he can access, though he's mostly looking at Disney things or things related to Thomas the Tank and Shining Time Station. He was thrilled to find YouTube where he could watch clips of favorite TV shows and especially of Shining Time Station, which is no longer on the air.

But, last week, he typed "Disney" on the search engine and apparently got a list of video clips to watch. So, imagine my surprise when in the pool, he asked me, "Mom, what's 101 Fellations?" Uh.... what???? I asked him where he saw that and what it was. He told me it was on YouTube and had people dressed up as dalmations. Ack! As Granny in that movie says, "Merciful heavens!" Now, I ask you... why on earth do people have to take something like this and make it pornographic?

So, YouTube got added to our list of blocked sites, sadly. Sam was wailing as he knew he would not get to watch the Shining Time Station clips again, and I could not explain to him well enough that he could not just watch those sites without being exposed to things he did not need to see. It's just a different world we live in now. I long for the days when everything was not so in your face and there was at least a tad of innocence until adulthood.

And so it goes...

Back in July, I wrote about a patient of mine with lymphedema and what a hard time we had getting follow up care for him. I ended up seeing him for several weeks off the record until I got his wounds healed and the swelling under control. I even hooked him up with a lymphedema specialist at a local rehab hospital, though he would have to complete mounds of paperwork to be approved for their indigent program.

Since we were moving the first week of August and I would not be at work on the 4th, I told him when I saw him July 28th to call me if he needed to be seen on Friday, August 11th. I was hoping he'd be approved by the clinic by then. And, he did call the morning of the 11th to say he was doing well, that his swelling was still down and that he thought he could manage everything now. He thanked me for my kindness and for seeing that he got the care he needed. I silently wondered as I hung up the phone when I'd see him again.

Well, yesterday was that day. He was readmitted with an exacerbation of his congestive heart failure, and I was consulted to see him. I had a feeling I'd see his legs back in the same shape they were in before we started the wraps back in June. Imagine my surprise when I walked in to find his legs all wrapped up, albeit somewhat shabbily. As I looked a bit closer, I was stunned to see that he had on the same wraps I'd placed on his legs my last contact with him.... yes, JULY 28th. He quietly told me that he'd since become homeless, and well, he had not taken them off because he had nothing else to put on, and so he just took very good care of them hoping that they would keep the swelling down.

I can't adequately express the sadness I felt, nor the appalled shock I experienced as I was cutting them off after more than a month. You should have seen all the very dry skin flaking off his legs. But, wonder of wonders, there were no open areas, and they did not look as bad as I'd assumed they would after I washed them up. Now... tell me again how much we are spending to build up infrastructures all over the globe?? And the band played on...