TURNING PAGES

I am a reader.  I have been since I was a child, although while Dawn and Brett were growing up, my page turning was generally restricted to the daily newspaper.  But now I'm back to books and I rue the day my eyesight cannot be corrected to allow that sedentary activity to continue.

My preference is mysteries.  My current favorite author is Lee Child who has written  over fifteen novels with Jack Reacher, who served 13 years as an MP in the Army before mustering out, as the main character.  I like the plots and Jack's perpetual ability to out-think and out-maneuver suspect parties.

When I'd blasted my way through those novels (and blast I did, as though the books and their tight story lines would disappear before I could more slowly make my way through the series)  I learned of Bill Bryson.  He writes both autobiographically and historically in such a way to often give people and circumstances a humorous edge. 

I'm a Stranger Here Myself is an accumulation of articles Bryson wrote while working for the Times and Independent while living in England.  The following excerpt is from the article, "At a Loss":

"...I always have catastrophies when I travel.  Once on an airplane, I leaned over to tie a shoelace just at the moment that the person in the seat ahead of me threw his seat back into full recline, and I found myself pinned helplessly in the crash position. It was only by clawing the leg of the man sitting next to me that I managed to get myself freed.

"On another occasion, I  knocked a soft drink onto the lap of a sweet little lady sitting beside me.  The flight attendant came and cleaned her up, and brought me a replacement drink, and instantly I knocked it onto the woman again.  To this day I don't know how I did it.  I just remember reaching out for the new drink and watching helplessly as my arm, like some cheap prop in one of those 1950s horror movies with a name like 'The Undead Limb,' violently swept the drink from its perch and onto her lap.

"The lady looked at me with the stupefied expression you would expect to receive from someone whom you have repeatedly drenched, and uttered an exceptionally earnest oath that started with "oh" and finished with "sake" and in between had some words that I have never heard uttered in public before, certainly not by a nun.

"This, however, was not my worst experience on a plane flight.  My worst experience was when I was writing important thoughts in a notebook ("Buy socks," clutch drinks carefully," etc.)  sucking thoughtfully on the end of my pen as you do, and fell into conversation with an attractive lady in the next seat.  I amused her for perhaps twenty minutes with a scattering of urbane bons mots, then retired to the lavatory where I discovered that the pen had leaked and that my lips, tongue, teeth, and gums were now a striking, scrub-resistant navy blue, and would remain so for several days."

Here's a bit from Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything, starting with the "big bang": 
 

"A proton is an infinitesimal part of an atom, which is itself of course an insubstantial thing.  Protons are so small that a little dib of ink like the dot on this "i" can hold something in the region of 500,000,000,000 of them or rather more than the number of seconds it takes to make half a million years....

"Now imagine if you can (and of course you can't) shrinking one of those protons down to a billionth of its normal size into a space so small that it would make a proton look enormous.  Now pack into that tiny, tiny space about an ounce of matter.  Excellent.  You are ready to start a universe."

Now we skip a few sentences ahead:

"[to build a big bang universe] you'll need additional materials.  In fact, you will need to gather up everything there is--every last mote and particle of matter between here and the edge of creation--and squeeze it into a spot so infinitesimally compact that is has no dimensions at all.  It is known as singularity.

"...get ready for a really big bang.  Naturally, you will wish to retire to a safe place to observe the spectacle.  Unfortunately, there is nowhere to retire to because outside the singularity there is no where.  When the universe begins to expand, it won't be spreading out to fill a larger emptiness.  The only space that exists is the space it creates as it goes.

"...the singularity has no around around it.  There is no space for it to occupy, no place for it to be....  Time doesn't exist.  There is no past for it to emerge from."

Well.  After only a few pages, I was rendered speechless, overwhelmed as I tried to comprehend the concept. And unfortunately, once Bryson had gotten me through the creation of earth in Small History, I realized that reading about the next bazillion years didn't interest me as much as I had thought it would, and I returned the book to the library.
    

*****************************

If my praises and quotes from two of his books haven't put you to sleep, then perhaps you would be as mesmerized by Bryson's compositions as I am.  (If not, ah well....)  While the concept of History turned out to be more than I wanted to undertake, I can vouch for A Walk in the Woods, At Home, and In a Sunburned Country being easier reads.  I found all three to be entertaining and educational. 

A MATCHED SET

A few weeks ago I wrote about June's total joint replacement of my left knee.   Recovery was amazingly easy and quick.  I am convinced that the success I have had is due to doing what was asked in the physical therapy sessions, knowing that within a few weeks therapy would be completed and I'd be walking like I did thirty years ago, before brother Jeff and I climbed a mountain in Arizona to scatter our mother's ashes where she loved to hike.

Those six weeks of therapy preceded vacation with Dawn and the kids in Myrtle Beach.  As soon as we returned, I had a follow-up visit with the surgeon who gave me a high-five and agreed to schedule surgery for the right knee.  I had anticipated waiting several weeks, but was amazed when I was told there was an opening in seventeen days.  Fantastic!

Much was the same; some was different.  I'd opted both times for spinal and femoral blocks.  That meant I should feel nothing in the leg operated on for 24 hours following surgery.  That was the case with the first surgery.  But I had a different anesthetist for the second and those blocks wore off in the first 12 hours.  Like the left leg had been, the right leg was wrapped in several layers of padding and held together by an elastic bandage.  Sitting (or lying) still caused no sensation, but to pull myself up in bed required moving the leg and in the hours after surgery, that took my breath away!  I also tested for the return of feeling by using the muscle above my knee cap to pull the leg flat against the mattress.  Ouch!! 

On the day two, contracting that muscle became less stressful.  If I took a deep breath and moved quickly, I could swing the repaired leg out of bed and let my foot rest on the floor.  Twenty-four hours after surgery, the dressing came off and white elastic TED hose were put on both legs.  Occupational therapists came in to help me  learn to dress since my knee would be too stiff initially to bend so that I could put on socks.  Physical therapists came as well to help me learn to walk with my walker.  Over the years my stride changed because I hadn't been able to fully straighten either leg.  Now I could. With the new joints, I found that if I failed to fully extend my foot, the knee clicked.  It didn't hurt, but the sound reminded me to slow down and  walk correctly! Three days post-op, I came home.     

After the first surgery, I'd used a walker for a week and then moved to a cane.  By week three, I was walking unassisted.  When I got to my room after the second surgery, Dawn told me that there had been a hiccup during the operation, and the rod attached to the new knee had poked through my femur.  The doctor had repaired the damage, but it would need time to heal, and I'd  be required to use the walker for six weeks to prevent any possibility of falling.  Well, crap.  However, I reminded myself that six weeks is a short time in the long-term picture.  Get too big for my britches, fall, and spend months recovering from surgery to repair the damage?  Not an option.

Three-times-a-week physical therapy began the day after I returned home.  Good news, bad news.  While I was allowed to put full weight on the leg, the exercises could not stress the bone.   The doctor was firm in saying that I could not twist the knee or spin on my foot.  Apparently that also meant I could do no stair work, but I was encouraged to pedal myself silly on the facility's Nu-Step and stationary bike.  The stand-by exercises of leg lifts, knee bends and heel slides were equally worthwhile and required.

Three weeks post-surgery the staples were removed.  Those white elastic TED hose are annoying and somewhat uncomfortable, so being able to chuck them was welcome.  I'd hoped that the surgeon would x-ray my leg and announce that I could begin driving again and take on all recommended exercises.  Unfortunately, he held firm and said the only way to slow me down, to ensure I wouldn't fall, was to keep me on the walker.  Well, I didn't want to break a leg or screw up the new joint, so I didn't argue.    

However, shortly after that visit,  I allowed myself to use my cane for short distances in the condo.  Then five weeks after surgery, I quit using the cane while indoors but remained cautious as I walked.  As soon as I began taking a more normal stride, the knee muscles of both legs felt better. But the walker remained my escort whenever I left the condo.

When the six-week anniversary of the second surgery arrived, I returned to see the surgeon.  Hallelujah!  X-rays showed that the femur had healed, and I was finally given permission to do all physical therapy exercises AND given permission to drive again!  Finally Dawn was free of her tether to me as chauffeur to appointments.  As soon as she brought me home after the appointment, I grabbed my car keys and headed out to drive myself, free at last, to the grocery store! 

Physical therapy will continue for a few more weeks as the newly introduced exercises continue to strengthen my right leg.  Some muscles surrounding both knees remain stiff, particularly when I sit still for extended periods.  But walking is not painful and I there is subtle improvement every day.   And while I've had a relatively easy time rehabbing both knees, I'm also glad that I'm not an octopus with six legs to go! 

MILLERSBURG GATHERING

We haven't had an occasion to meet as family, just us, in over 30 years.  Now as we're getting older, there's time available, or we three siblings are finally making time, to get together.  It was  going to be just a short visit, an afternoon, so with the exception of my daughter and her family and Jeff's daughter, none of our other children or grandchildren were there.  

Jeff and Jason entertained us with stories they recalled of our years growing up in South Bend. For example, mounted at the peak of our suburban garage was an old farm bell.  Mom would ring it when she needed one, or all, of us to come home:  1 dong for me, 2 for Jason, 3 for Jeff and 4 (or more!) for all of us.  

One day when they were between 11 and 13, Jason and Jeff were at a neighbor's playing football in the back yard with the boys who lived there.  Also present was another neighbor -- "Max", who was considerably older, in high school, and a bully.
  

Mom rang the bell for Jason and Jeff to come home, but Max wouldn't let them leave.  Either Jason or Jeff saw Mom, who was wearing a dress or skirt, come to the fence that separated the yards and then turn around and go back into the house.  

She came to the fence again in a few minutes, this time wearing pants and a T-shirt.  Instead of opening the gate, she vaulted over the fence and approached the boys. Looking at Jason and Jeff, she asked, "Didn't you hear the bell?  When you hear the bell, you come home."  

One answered, "Well, yes, but....," looking at Max.  

Max stepped forward and said with authority,  "We're playing football and they can't leave."  

Mom spun and *decked* Max and said, "Don't you dare get up or I'll put you down again!"  (It's doubtful Mom would have gotten away with that these days!)  

To which Max, flat on his back, replied politely, "Okay, Mrs. Currey."  

They entertained us throughout the afternoon with stories of the dumb/silly/stupid stuff they did -- shooting BB guns at each other while in the basement and throwing darts without being able to see the target, for example.

Brandon trying to land the helicopter on a beam

Jeff also brought out an infra-red toy helicopter that Brandon and Bob took turns trying to land on the open beams in the living room.  Once those attempts were successful, they moved on to landing the helicopter on the blades of the fan above us. Ah, boys and their toys.....

The time was too short.  But that only means that we will try hard to meet again, sooner rather than later.  

Evie and Jason

Jeff and his daughter, Brittany

Head chef Jeff and Mimi

 

 

MORE ON MONARCH BUTTERFLIES

 After sharing my post on September 1 regarding monarch caterpillars and butterflies, I discovered one of those pictured caterpillars preparing to go into its chrysalis phase.

It was hanging from one of the milkweed leaves, very still.  I thought it might be dying or already dead.  But it was also an opportunity to witness the metamorphosis of caterpillar to butterfly if it was alive.

I cut a portion of the milkweed, including the leaf the caterpillar was suspended from, and put it in a vase.  I didn't expect to find much more than a dead caterpillar when I got up in the morning.  Boy, was I surprised!

Waiting for me was a beautiful green chrysalis that was adorned with golden specks.

Metamorphosis, changing from caterpillar to butterfly, takes from nine to fourteen days.  I kept close watch, but nothing happened in the first eleven days.  But on day twelve, I noted that the green was changing.  By the time I went to bed, the colorful wings could be seen through the now translucent chrysalis.  I was confident that within 24 hours, a butterfly would emerge.

This morning, with the colors even more vivid, I decided to take the chrysalis outdoors.  My plan was to see the butterfly appear, watch as it hung and its wings dried and then move it to the milkweed from where it would finally fly away.

I took the daily crossword puzzle, camera and cup of coffee to the porch and got comfortable in the chair where I was prepared to spend most of the day.  But before an hour had passed, I looked up just as the butterfly slipped from the chrysalis!  It hung there for about an hour, its wings slowly straightening.  Eventually I moved it to the milkweed plants where it spent the afternoon until it flew away.

If you're interested in reading more about monarch butterflies, I found this link informative:
http://butterflybushes.com/monarch_

metamorphosis.htm

MONARCH BUTTERFLY

Last summer Grandma Sherry had an abundance of ornamental milkweed that she'd planted.  I don't know whether she intended to host monarch butterfly caterpillars, but that is indeed what she did.  By late summer multiple caterpillars seemed to be on every plant, and there were a lot of plants. Looking for the caterpillars was like looking for Easter eggs.  

Eventually the caterpillars disappeared, but were discovered as chrysalises hanging from the siding and soffit of her condo.  We were diligent as we watched day to day as the chrysalises changed from light green to translucent and the colorful wings could be seen as they matured.  And ultimately there came the bittersweet days as we watched the butterflies emerge, quickly dry their wings and fly off.

From www.monarchbutterflyusa.com, "The total time frame for one butterfly's life cycle (one generation) is about 6-8 weeks . . . egg, caterpillar, chrysalis, butterfly. It grows inside the egg for about 4 days. It then munches milkweed and grows as a monarch caterpillar (larvae) for about 2 more weeks. The caterpillar's life inside the chrysalis (pupa) lasts about 10 days and its wonderful life as an adult butterfly lasts from 2 - 6 weeks."

Early in the spring I purchased some milkweed seeds.  Around Mother's Day, when the chance of frost is said to be past, the kids cultivated the small dirt strip along my patio and planted the seeds.  As I sit here now, I count six plants.  Three are healthy, although no milk pods have appeared, one looks puny, and two are merely marking time until frost takes them.

Caterpillars - top middle and lower right

About a month ago, Sophia ran into the house to announce she'd found a caterpillar!  We went out together and found four.  In the next three days, they all disappeared, off to find a spot for their chrysalises.  

In fact, I watched one as it left the plant, crawled up the hibiscus planter and eventually disappeared into the shrub.  I presume all made their way to safety.

Last week I was sitting on the porch and saw a monarch butterfly hanging from the limb of a nearby plant, slowly opening and closing its wings.  I bent down, encouraged it to climb onto my finger, and moved it to the butterfly plant.  There it stayed, continuing to open and close its wings.  When I looked later in the evening it was gone.

Once again, this afternoon  I am sitting on the patio.  A few minutes ago I glanced at the largest of the plants and saw a new caterpillar. Closer inspection revealed a second, and both are about half the size of a mature caterpillar!  This is the third "crop" of caterpillars, and I am in awe at being able to witness the monarch's life cycle!

VACATIONING WITH ADOLESCENTS

Dawn wanted to do something special with Brandon and Sophia this summer.  I think she based her decision on destinations on what we did as a family -- every summer from the time she was one until she and Brett were in their teens we spent a week in a timeshare in Myrtle Beach.  

Her second family and their daughter, her close friend since childhood, offered the use of their channel house there.  Vacation destination chosen!  And Brandon and Sophia were eager to go to the beach.

Twenty minutes -- a mere twenty miles outside of Canton -- the bickering in the backseat started.  Brandon couldn't look at Sophia without her being offended and tattling.  Then Brandon started reaching out to Sophia, pointing a finger as though he were prepared to poke or touch her.  More howls from Sophia.   Then Brandon complained that he was cramped and tried to straighten his legs toward Sophia's side of the car.  More wailing.  Seven hours of this.  

Dawn and I had threatened after arriving at our evening destination to put Brandon  in the passenger seat next to the driver the next morning.  He promised that he'd not antagonize Sophia and wanted to remain next to her.  But the experience Dawn and I shared the previous day weighed heavily on our decision to have Brandon occupy the front seat for the rest of the trip.  I was about as happy sitting in the back seat as Brandon was in the front, but the cacophany of arguing and tattling stopped.

Weather was great.  This was the beach, after all, so it was hot -- in the 90's.  But the house is only a couple short blocks from the ocean and the beach was clean and big.  After unloading the car we walked down to the beach and just after the three of them got into the water, the life guard pulled them out, pointing to a possibly dangerous bank of clouds moving over the city.  So it was back to the house to shower and then we headed out to shop for groceries.

Although Dawn and Sophia made it to the beach every day for a couple hours, Brandon suffered from chafed thighs and put away his swimming suit Tuesday.  And then he complained that he was bored as he laid around the house and played games on his iPod.  

Evenings we went out for dinner and occasionally extended the evening with entertainment such as Grand Prix car racing.  Sophia is still talking about the Skydrop.  The three were tethered together, hauled by a pulley to the top of a tower, and then released to free fall.  Scream?  Oh, yes!  At the bottom of the fall, they simply swung back and forth as the arc's path shortened until they could be returned to the "launch area" and be released from the apparatus. 

Ripley's touted their new exhibit on sharks, so we visited the aquarium.  We went early in the day and still stood in line for 30-45 minutes to purchase tickets.  Once inside, we walked to the line to the shark display.  What a waste of time.  Lots of displays, but not the shark exhibit we'd anticipated.  But the highlight was next -- the aquarium itself.  We stood on a people-mover walk and were able to see lots of sharks and a variety of fish.  The kids weren't bored since with all the movement in the water, there was no lack of interesting activity.  When we finally exited the aquarium the line to see the shark exhibit was three times as long as when we'd stood in it.  Poor souls.

Brandon's favorite activity ... wait for it ... was shopping at the Tanger outlet!  They have an Under Armour store there and he loves their apparel.  Dawn loves Coach, and there was a store for her.  Sophia likes jewelry and Claire's has a shop.  Dawn got her purse,  Brandon got some shorts and Sophia got jewelry.  I bought some socks.  Both kids have new "Lids".  Brandon tried to talk Sophia into a hat that he figured he'd quickly inherit from her.  But she wasn't having any of it.  Good girl, Sophia!

On Friday, Brandon said he was anxious to come home.  He missed his cat, as Sophia missed hers, and he wanted to begin cleaning so we could leave Saturday instead of the planned return on Sunday.   Dawn and I realized that another 11 hours in the car with Brandon and Sophia, all of it in one day, was more than we were up for.  So we got up early Saturday and the four of us cleaned.  After a last visit to the ocean for Dawn and Sophia, we headed for home around 3:00 Saturday afternoon.  We spent the night in Charlotte, hit the road at 9:00 Sunday morning and got home about 5:00.

I think Dawn's already decided that vacation next year will be a series of  three- or four-day periods spent at destinations no more than two hours from home.  And fortunately the kids like the idea of short trips.  Not far from here are popular amusement parks, a couple water parks, and even a Tanger outlet! There are even other activities here that aren't available at the beach.  Sounds like a good plan to me!

 

 

Contemplating the Happy Dance

Twenty years ago one of my brothers and I walked up a mountain in Arizona to scatter our mother's ashes in an area where she loved to hike.  Sometime during that walk, my knees began to hurt and swell.  Back home, a doctor diagnosed me with osteoarthritis.  I began treating the symptoms with OTC drugs and through the years, moved on to stronger prescription medication.  By the end of 2010, however, they had all become ineffective.  I was told,  "When it's time for surgery, you'll know it."

They were right.  When I was unable to sleep well at night, I realized it was time.   There was no hesitation because folks  who have had or know of someone who's had total joint replacement (TJR) universally comment, "I'm sorry I waited so long."   My date with the knife was June 10.  I was in the hospital at 9:00, surgery started at 11:30 and was completed by 1:30.

Let me say:  when I woke up there was no joint pain.  The hurting parts had been removed and replaced by "hardware".  Although I'd been told that the effects of the anesthetic would linger for up to 48 hours, that evening after surgery, I was assisted in moving from my bed to a chair.  And I was assured that I should put my full weight on my leg.  It felt wobbly, but it didn't hurt!  

During the overnight, I was visited hourly by the nurses who checked my vital signs and asked me if I needed anything.  I wanted to say, "Fewer visits", but understood that they were monitoring my condition. 

The incision is seven inches long and "sutured" with 25 staples.  Bruising is extensive and swelling interferes with bending my knee.  I repeatedly told the staff that I didn't have pain, just discomfort in the tissues that the surgery had impacted.  With feeling returning to my leg as the effects of the spinal ebbed, on Sunday I was assisted through a series of exercises that include knee bends, straight leg raises and the heel slides.  The heel slide is simple, but diabolical.  It is done by lying with the leg straight and slowly sliding the heel toward the tush as far as I can pull it, then allowing the heel to slide back until the leg is straight again.  There's a lot of discomfort, particularly when the therapist "assists" by pushing the foot a tad farther than I can pull!  But I must admit that in spite of the distress caused by stretching those muscles, my leg feels much better when the exercises have been completed.  A dose of vicodin helps, too!

I came home Monday, three days after surgery, and found the porch decorated with a plethora of flamingos in celebration of my return.


On Wednesday, I visited the physical therapy facility and on Friday, had my first therapy session.  It started with eight minutes of pedaling.  No pain!!!  I felt as though I could have pedaled much longer.  The now-familiar knee bends, leg lifts -- 20 of each -- were next.  But only 15 heel slides.  That's because the PT had saved five in which she pushed, probably watching for my eyes to roll to the back of my head!  A few more activities and then, at the end the session, I was introduced to the Squeeze and Freeze appliance.  This apparatus includes a shin-to-thigh sleeve that was wrapped around my leg and some chilling material pumped into it to "ice" my leg.  Ahhhhhhh.

I hope progress to recovery is speedy.  I want to get the right knee done before the end of the year.   I see the surgeon in a week to have the staples removed.  I'll ask him then if we can pencil me in on the schedule.