In which we do things the hard way

Some time ago, Scott messaged me at 3:11 PM, asking would I please call his doctor’s office to request a prescription he needed. Now, he’d normally make such a call himself, but at that particular time he happened to be both sick and on the other side of the world, which complicated things just a little bit.

He was dealing with some cold/flu-ish type virus, and the resulting congestion and drainage necessitated the use of his steroid inhaler to hopefully prevent, or worst case scenario treat, asthma symptoms. He’s been through this situation numerous times, and the inhaler he uses ALWAYS causes thrush (a painful oral yeast infection), so with each puff of the inhaler he has to swish and gargle with liquid Nystatin (an anti-fungal med). The problem was that on that specific day he didn’t have any liquid Nystatin, and it’s only available by prescription.

Scott figured some pharmacist overseas could fill it if he could just hand him or her the physical (paper) prescription, and that’s where the challenge started. But not where it ended. After all, our ministry is called Take the Challenge.

His initial, out-of-the-blue text to me was somewhat cryptic: “Could you please call my clinic to see if they can give you my script for Nystatin?”

I asked some clarifying questions, but didn’t understand his answers.

I called the clinic and got a v-e-r-y long answering machine message that communicated three relevant points.

1. They were closed. (It was 3:30 PM on a Friday, and they closed at noon on Fridays.)
2. They didn’t deal with prescription refill requests after hours or on weekends.
3. I could leave a detailed message.

#1, noted.

#2, noted.

#3, I did, asking his Nurse Practitioner, L, to please email Scott a photo of the paper prescription so he could get it filled overseas.

I communicated the above to Scott and then went back to what I’d been doing, until I had a thought. (This can be dangerous.) We didn’t have at the house an empty bottle of Nystatin with its prescription label, but if we did, I could just take a picture of the label and send it to Scott, bypassing the “closed-clinic-which-wouldn’t-hear-my-message-till-sometime-Monday” situation. Was there maybe another way to get that pesky picture…?

Hmm… If I refilled the prescription – assuming there were any refills left on it – the bottle would have a prescription label on it. Aha! I called our trusty Walmart pharmacy and requested a refill on Scott’s Nystatin. The nice pharmacy lady took all the information and submitted the refill request, but then said there might be a problem. (Really?) They had been having trouble getting Nystatin liquid, and would I hold while she checked to see if they had any in stock? I would and I did.

She came back and said they did not have any, and (typical of of Walmart) they didn’t know when they’d get any. Major bummer!

Me: Do you know where else I could get it?

Nice Lady: No, but if you find any, we can transfer the prescription.

Me: So…? If you don’t have any, does that mean the other Walmart pharmacies in the area also wouldn’t have any?

Nice Lady: I don’t know. You could just call around and see if anyone does.

Me: And if I find some, I tell them to call you?

Nice Lady: Yes. And we’ll transfer the prescription to them.

After exchanging standard TUHAND pleasantries (“Thank you. Have a nice day.”), we hung up.

I then called the Walmart pharmacy some 20 miles away in Ozark, explained my situation, and asked if they had any liquid Nystatin in stock. Nice Lady #2 checked and was very sorry to say that they did not. I asked her if there was a Walmart pharmacy in Nixa.

Nice Lady #2: Yes, there is. Would you like their phone number?

Me: Sure.

She gave it to me, but as I was about to dial that one, I paused and gave the matter some thought: “Do I really want to drive all the way to Nixa (26 miles) to take a picture of a prescription bottle? Hmm… Maybe there’s a closer pharmacy that will cost more money but take less time.”

And then I thought of the friendly folks at Lakeland pharmacy across from Aldi. It was now something after 4:00 PM.

I called Lakeland and talked with Nice Lady #3. By now I was pretty good at succinctly explaining my situation, so I got right to the point. I needed to refill a prescription for Nystatin liquid and our usual pharmacy was out of it. Did they have any?

Nice Lady #3 (with the enthusiasm of Candidate Barack Obama): Yes we do!

Me: Well, glory!

I gave her the necessary info, and she said she’d call Walmart right away. Then it occurred to me that it was now 4:30 on a Friday afternoon.

Me: How late are you open?

Nice Lady #3: Till 6:00 PM.

Me: Well, if I bring you homemade chocolate chip cookies, is there any way that prescription could be filled for pick-up today?

Nice Lady #3: Oh, it’ll be ready today. Give me a good phone number and we’ll text you when it’s ready.

I gave her my number.

Me: That’s excellent! You have no idea what a help this will be.

Standard TUHAND pleasantries all around, and I returned to what I’d been doing, while the wind whipped and a series of powerful thunderstorms with lots of shake-the-house booming and rain heavy enough to make me wonder if the power would stay on (it did!) moved through. I watched our big trees sway and hoped it would all stop before I had to go out in it.

I did a few things in the office and a few things in the kitchen, and when I still hadn’t heard anything from Lakeland at 5:30, I called them. Yes, my Nystatin prescription was ready! I grabbed my ziploc of cookies and left so quickly that I forgot my cane. It was only raining lightly at that point, and I arrived at 5:51 PM. I asked Nice Lady #4 if she was the person I’d spoken with about liquid Nystatin. No, she wasn’t.

Me: Well, I told the nice Iady I talked to that I’d bring her homemade cookies if I could pick up my prescription today.

I handed the cookies to Nice Lady #4, and do you know what she did?!? She looked up the pharmacy’s phone records, figured out the name of Nice Lady #3 (who had already left for the day), and put NL#3’s name on the bag of cookies with an explanatory note! She didn’t even do a personal taste test for quality assurance purposes! I really hope Nice Lady #3 shares them with Nice Lady #4, but that will be her own choice to make.

I then purchased for a not-insignificant price a cute little bottle containing exactly 42 ml of liquid Nystatin. When I told Nice Lady #4 that the bottle was usually MUCH larger (like maybe 8 oz or something), she said that it might be because there were no refills, “so maybe they only filled the rest of the prescription.” I don’t know, and I didn’t bother telling her that I didn’t actually need the med, just the label. Some things are too weird to try to explain.

Out in the car, I took a couple pictures of the label and sent them to Scott, saying I hoped they would enable him to get the med he needed and that I’d done all I could do to help him.

The next day I received this picture from him.

“Your labor is not in vain!”

HA!

Andrew says that we Robertses – and I’m pretty sure he means only Scott and I – never do anything the easy way, and I think I proved him right that day. But then again, maybe it was just a creative application of the Asch Principle!

Jeopardy question: What is 170?

Explanation: To strengthen my left shoulder which I injured while paddling in a raft on the Colorado River in September 2022, my doctor has prescribed six weeks of daily shoulder exercises. To strengthen my hip muscles, she has also prescribed six weeks of daily hip exercises. I do twenty shoulder exercises and ten hip exercises; all together they take one-and-a-half hours each day. My fond hope is that all this at-home physical therapy will eventually eliminate — or at least greatly reduce — the pain I’ve been living with for some time.

Most of these exercises involve doing something slightly to significantly uncomfortable and then holding that position for a specific number of seconds. I use a timer on my phone when I hold a position 30 seconds, but for the many, many exercises that involve holding a distasteful position for five seconds (and usually doing so five times), I simply count to five v e r y, s l o w l y, over… and over… and over… and over again.

Answer: The number of times I count to five every morning.

Strong

It takes me a long time to get to work.

I do do a fair amount of work, even though it’s not at a traditional away-from-home workplace, it’s generally not for pay, it involves tasks in multiple realms, and my work day seems to consist of many repeated interruptions interspersed with short periods of productivity. = )

Because I am dealing with some joint issues, each morning involves not only Bible reading, praying, and memory verses, but also 17 minutes of hip stretches, a 45-minute workout at the gym (13 minutes from home), and a short (10-minute?) walk outside, followed by 54 minutes of chiropractic exercises; this all before I shower and start my actual “work.” And yes, all those numbers are verified because for the longest time I kept wondering Why. The. Heck. it always took me four ever-lovin’ hours to get from my bed to my desk! So I actually timed everything in order to figure out why I was having such a hard time getting a day’s work done in a day. Doing the math freed me from guilt and verified that I wasn’t lazy. Unfocused at times? Yes, but definitely not lazy.

Several months into my prescribed regimen daily exercises and semi-weekly, weekly, and eventually bi-weekly chiropractic adjustments, my chiropractor began stretching (“tractioning”) my lower back in a certain way that felt truly wonderful and really seemed to help a lot, at least for those few minutes.

I wanted to be able to get that same kind of relief and comfort more often than every two weeks at my appointments, so he recommended several things I might try at home to approximate the tractioning he does when I’m facedown on his table. These involved lying on my back with my legs up on something and letting the weight of my torso gently traction my lower back. Unfortunately, after trying and finding both our bed and our coffee table to be too high to pull at the proper angle, I had about given up on being able to do that kind of stretching at home.

But Dr. Hill was determined. A few weeks ago he told me he had had patients with similar issues who had found help by lying on a book. He said I could try lying on my back with a several-inch-thick book under my butt, and see if that would provide the right angle of tractioning.

I went home thinking, “Hmmm… well, my bottom is big… it would have to be a big book, and pretty thick… maybe a dictionary?” Webster had the height but clearly couldn’t provide sufficient, umm, surface area. Tapping my forehead a la Winnie the Pooh, I gave his book idea a great deal of thought (“Think, think, think…”).

Now, we do have a LOT of books around here, so I wandered around the house considering various possibilities. And then I saw it!

Big enough to support my bum? Check. About the right thickness to provide a bit of gravitational drop? Check. Slightly beat up but in this digital age rarely used for its intended purpose? YES! Maybe this reference tome would prove to be as useful on the living room floor as it is on my desk.

And indeed it did!

Augmenting James Strong’s most famous volume with two naugahyde cushions from my dining room chair for padding, for the past six weeks I’ve spent five minutes every morning on (as opposed to in) Strong’s Concordance. Recent scans and x-rays have documented spinal improvement for which I’m thankful.

In summary, such strong tractioning does feel mighty good, but I can also testify that it’s truly exhaustive.

Test-taking in 2020

NOTE: As an educated person who prides herself in writing well most of the time and who grew up with a mother who is an English major, for crying out loud(!), it pains me deeply to use “they,” “them,” and “their” as singular pronouns, but in this post, in order to respect people’s privacy, I’m going to do it. Get ready. It’s going to hurt, but you have been warned. Here goes.

The plan. At 5:00 AM on Friday, June 19 Scott and I would leave home and drive some 14 hours to North Carolina for two specific purposes: one, to attend our niece’s wedding at 2:00 PM Saturday, June 20, and two, to pick up Scott’s mom on Sunday, June 21 and bring her home (reversing our 14 hour drive) to visit with us for a few weeks.

It was a fine plan, well thought-out and prepared for in great detail.

Sunday morning, June 14. I went to church and unknowingly committed what ended up being an enormous faux-pas. I talked for 30 seconds with my friend F and gave F a brief hug. [Mistake #3: I hugged F.]

Monday afternoon, June 15. I was told by a reliable source that F’s spouse, S, had been sick since June 5. S had been unable to go to work and had been sick in bed for the better part of ten days. S is a healthcare provider, and although S had been tested for the flu and it was negative, and although S had asked their doctor for a Covid test, S was not tested until Friday, June 12. S and F got the news on Monday, June 15 that S’s Covid test was positive. By this point, S was gradually recovering. [Mistake #2: F came to church on Sunday, June 14 while S’s Covid test result was pending.]

It was surmised that since S initially developed symptoms on June 5, they had probably been exposed to Covid on about June 2 or 3. Hence they were told to quarantine for 14 days, ending on Wednesday, June 17, which was only two days after they learned that they were positive for Covid. [Mistake #1: S’s employer (a medical facility!) did not order a Covid test when S first developed symptoms, sought medical care, and requested a test.]

Tuesday, June 16. Having spent some ten days living closely with S who had been fairly sick and then tested positive for Covid, F was tested.

Wednesday June 17. F received news that their Covid test on June 16 was positive.

Wednesday night, June 17. I was notified that F’s Covid test was positive. Thankfully F was (and still continues to be) asymptomatic, but the fact that F’s test was positive meant that Scott and I would both need to be tested and proven negative in order to travel to North Carolina on Friday.

6:30 AM Thursday, June 18. While I started packing my stuff for our trip, Scott contacted our doctor to explain our situation and find out how we could get tested.

9:18 AM Thursday, June 18. Understanding the time-critical nature of our situation and that Scott and I were both asymptomatic, our doctor submitted orders for our Covid tests. His nurse, A, called Scott to say that the orders had been submitted and that someone from the testing facility would call us – they normally called people in less than an hour – to let us know when and where to go to be tested.

No one called within the hour. When Scott called Nurse A back and told her that, she double-checked and said she was sure they would definitely call by noon; if they didn’t he was to let her know.

They didn’t. Scott played phone tag with Nurse A several times throughout the midday. She had no clue why, with orders submitted before 9:30 AM, no one had yet called us. This had never happened before!

Thursday afternoon, June 18. We waited. We waited. We waited longer. Around here, you can’t just show up at a testing site and instantly be tested. We didn’t even know where our medical facility’s designated testing site was! You have to have doctor’s orders and an appointment with some paperwork filled out in advance. So we waited, not all that patiently, for that all-important phone call. We HAD to get tested on Thursday in order to hopefully get the results on Friday while we drove. If we found out somewhere in Tennessee that one or both of us was positive, we’d have to turn around and come back home, but…?

The call never came, despite mounting frustration for both Scott, Nurse A, and our doctor. Finally Scott took matters into his own hands. He called our local health department. Yes, they could test us, but not on Thursday. All their appointments were full. We might try the Greene County health department…

Scott contacted them, and yes, they could test us on Friday, maybe at 7:00 AM. Did we want those appointments? Good question. That would mean leaving an hour later than planned, spending who knew how much time being tested in Springfield, and arriving in North Carolina quite late Friday night. Scott wanted a better option, so he kept digging and learned out that some CVS pharmacies – unfortunately not the one in Branson – offered free drive-thru Covid tests. The nearest such CVS was in Springfield. He called there, and yes, they could test us today. In fact they’d be open till 8:00 PM. Just come to the drive-thru when we arrived.

We still didn’t know when we’d get the results of those tests, and although Scott and I and our niece and other relatives in North Carolina, including Scott’s elderly mom, were not at all concerned about Covid, several members of our niece’s fiancé’s family who were arriving from out of state for the wedding, were “moderately concerned about the virus.” Out of respect for them, it would be important for us not to attend a gathering while our Covid test results were pending. We certainly did not want to repeat F’s Mistake #2!!!.

But given that we knew we had both been exposed to someone (F) who later tested positive, it would be unconscionable for us to not be tested, and since we had to be tested no matter what happened with the wedding and Mom, we dropped everything and headed to Springfield.

3:10 PM Thursday, June 18. We arrived at the CVS drive-thru. There were four cars in front of us, and although the line was not moving at all (I actually put the Durango in park), I dared not get out of it. We waited. [NOTE: I will insert here that another friend, B, who had also been exposed to F on Sunday, June 14, had on Thursday morning gone to the Virtual Visit website of our local medical facility – the same facility in which S (who had been so sick) works and for which system our doctor and Nurse A also work – was given an appointment within the hour, went, and was tested before we even left for CVS in Springfield. Lucky B!]

We waited in line for some 12 minutes before the first car moved. Scott was extremely frustrated; I, not so much. I figured we’d get to the window eventually and we’d get our tests, and then I could go home and finish packing. We did finally get to the window at 3:35 PM. The drive-thru lady, K, was very nice and said that yes, we could get Covid tests, and she would first need to confirm some information from us, but then, “Wait just a minute. Something happened… hmm… with the computer. It’s really slow today… ” K said she’d be back in a moment and closed her window. We looked at each other. She was gone for a while, probably a couple minutes, and when she came back she said, “I’m really sorry, we’re having a computer glitch, and I can’t fix it and neither can anyone else here, but without the computer, we can’t do any Covid tests. I’m going to have to contact technical support. If you’ll just pull over there and park next to the building, I’ll give you a call when we’re back up and running.”

She was sweet, but Scott was close to coming unglued. He asked why they needed a computer to do a Covid test. K patiently explained that she had to input certain information before the test could be done and she couldn’t do that without the computer. Scott said he didn’t see why they couldn’t just do the test and then when the computer was working, enter the information. But no, each test was coded a certain way and had to be handled a certain way, and until the computer glitch was fixed, they couldn’t do anything. She was hoping they’d be back up and running in an hour or so, but said that these kinds of things often took two hours or more. Scott was, to put it mildly, royally disgusted.

We pulled around and parked. It was a very hot day and we were in the sun, and with the car idling, the AC wasn’t cooling, so we were rather cranky as well as hot. Scott decided to call back to the health department (I don’t remember which one) and take whatever Friday appointment they could provide. But since he had called them earlier to say that we didn’t need an appointment because we were going to get tested at CVS, they had taken us out of the queue and we’d have to start the process all over. Sweet Georgia Ever-Loving Peaches!!! It was really hard to believe how MANY things could possibly go wrong!

While we sat baking in the sun, K from CVS called back to update us. I thought that was nice. She was again most gracious and kind, but the news she delivered was not pleasant. It seems that the Covid-related computer problem wasn’t just an issue on her machine; it was a system-wide issue, and it affected ALL the CVS’s in the United States. NONE of them could do a Covid test until it was fixed. And how long might that take? Well, she was hoping it would be fixed that day; that is, before they closed at 8:00 PM. Ugh.

Scott wanted to go home. I wanted to wait it out, at least for a while, since we’d already been through so much and had come so far. He grudgingly acquiesced, and we sat and sweated a while longer.

Until Scott could stand it no more. “I’m ready to go home,” he said. That was the understatement of the week! “Let’s go home.” Well, that was it. If we gave up and didn’t get our tests today, we definitely couldn’t go to the wedding. And I really wanted to be at that wedding!  = {

4:30 PM, Thursday, June 18. I put the Durango in reverse, backed out, and started around the building in order to exit the parking lot. As we came around to the little “Drive-thru Covid-19 Tests” yard sign we’d initially seen when we’d arrived nearly an hour and-a-half earlier, I said, “There’s no one at the drive-thru. How about we pull up one more time and just make sure?” He was okay with that, so I pulled up to our friend, K, one last time. She opened the window and said she was so sorry for our inconvenience, but the computer glitch still hadn’t been fixed, although “they” were working on it… “Hey, wait just a minute. The… It’s… Well, it’s really slow, but it looks like maybe… Maybe it will work. Let me try something. Wait just a moment…” And then, “OK! It’s working! I think we can finally do this!”

Oh, praise God Almighty forevermore!

K verified some information, handed me two brown paper bags, said we’d do mine first, and proceeded to give me detailed instructions on opening the swab, handling the vial, shoving the swab up my nose, moving it around as deeply as possible while she timed me, inserting it in the vial, breaking off the swab, carefully placing the vial in another special bag that was labeled with my information, and sealing it as instructed. Lather, rinse, repeat for Scott.

We asked her when we would receive the results. She had already told us they would come by email, via accounts – one for each of us- that we had had to set up while waiting. “Two to four business days.” Well, that wouldn’t help us in the next less-than-48 hours, but we had to get tested anyway, and we’d need to know the results eventually.

I thanked K and pulled forward to a metal box mounted on the building just past the drive-thru, used one of the two provided disinfecting wipes to clean off the box’s handle, opened it, saw that it was totally crammed full of Covid tests, shoved our two tests in on top, closed the lid, and used the other wipe to again clean the handle.

And we drove away from CVS, having gotten our Covid tests.

Scott called Nurse A back to update her. He had talked with her multiple times throughout the day and sent a pretty firm email expressing his opinion that she had done something wrong in placing the orders that morning. He had contacted the local testing location in Branson, and they had told him that they had never received the orders for the test; that the doctor (or his representative, Nurse A) had done something wrong in submitting the orders, although Nurse A had documentation that the site HAD received the orders before 9:30 AM; they had just never called us to set up a testing appointment. On this call Nurse A sounded defensive. She was just as frustrated as we were, but she had finally found out WHY they had never called us back, and I will now explain why.

When our doctor submitted the orders for the test, we were the first asymptomatic patients for whom he had ever done so. When he was sending those orders electronically, it asked whether or not we had symptoms, and he clicked “no,” because we didn’t. But what neither he nor Nurse A realized was that asymptomatic people get scheduled – logically – AFTER all the symptomatic people. And there was a run on tests in that medical system for symptomatic people, and that was why we had never been called. So although the testing site claimed that our doctor and/or nurse had not followed proper procedure in placing the orders, Nurse A now explained to Scott that she and our doctor had done exactly what they always did for Covid test orders. She had spent lots of time throughout the day on the phone with the manager of the testing center to get all this clarified, and she and our doctor now understood that in order to get tests scheduled promptly, they should always check “yes” on the symptoms box, whether or not the patient had symptoms. Can you believe it?!?

On the drive home fro CVS, Scott decided we would not go to the wedding. He didn’t know what we’d do about Mom’s visit. I was super angry and cried a lot.

Meanwhile, our friend, B, asked if we’d ever gotten our tests (yes, with difficulty!), and when would we have our results (two to four business days, so with tests at 4:30 PM on Thursday, that probably meant Monday at the earliest and Wednesday at the latest.). “That’s funny,” B said. I got my test at 2:00 PM today and they said I’ll have the results in 24 hours.” Lovely. Simply lovely.

Over the next few hours, I calmed down somewhat, so I was more or less okay when Scott’s phone rang at 7:00 PM, and it was our doctor, calling to explain and apologize. WOW! He talked to us for 20 minutes and explained things very clearly. Here’s what he said.

1. He explained, as mentioned above, the whole “check symptoms box to avoid these kinds of delays in the future” thing. SO frustrating all around.
2. He said that getting a negative test result doesn’t mean a lot, because you can have a positive test result any time on Days 2-14 of exposure. We were tested on Day 4, and our results were likely to be negative, but even if they were, we wouldn’t (couldn’t) know for sure that we were Covid-free and therefore non-contagious, until we had passed Day 14 with no additional possible exposure and no symptoms.
3. We should self-quarantine for 14 days post-exposure, watch for symptoms, stay home unless absolutely necessary, and if we needed to be inside buildings with other people, ALWAYS wear a mask rigorously social distance. None of that sounded much like attending an inside wedding and spending 14+ hours in a vehicle with your elderly mother.
4. He said we should definitely not go to the wedding, that Branson was experiencing more cases, and that he wouldn’t bring his parents to Branson now; that it would have been safer to bring Scott’s mom here during the lockdown than now.
5. He said S’s boss (the same medical system our doctor works for!) should have tested S for Covid earlier, F should not have come to church while S’s Covid test was pending, and I should not have hugged F.

Our doctor has provided excellent above-and-beyond medical care for our family for years. We respect him a lot, and he has been very gracious to us, advising us on matters when Scott travels overseas, and giving advice for Jessica in Asia. He is not perfect, but we do trust him, so we have followed his recommendations in this situation. Scott, who needs to be out and about in various business and/or ministry meetings with certain people and who seriously misses playing tennis, has chafed at them, but they haven’t really affected his wife, who is generally home most of the time anyway.

And to add insult to injury. My friend B, who was tested at our local medical facility at 2:00 PM Thursday, June 18, got her negative result back 25 hours later at 3:00 PM on Friday, June 19. B asked the medical person who did the test what would need to be done if the test came back negative. “Nothing,” was the reply. B asked, “Nothing? Don’t I need to quarantine or anything?” The response was, “No. If the test is negative, you don’t have it, and you’re not contagious. Go on with your life.”

8:45 PM Tuesday, June 23. 120 hours after my test, I got my negative result.

6:30 AM Wednesday, June 24. 134 hours after his test, Scott got his negative result.

5:15 PM Wednesday, June 24. Our doctor called us to discuss our negative test results and his recommendations. We now understood what he advised and why. We then told him what our friend, B, had been told about B’s similar negative results from a test on the same day as ours and following exposure to the same person who had tested positive two days after exposing all of us; namely that no further precautions need be taken since B’s test four days post-exposure was negative. Our doctor asked us who had given our friend, B, that information, and we said, “A nurse at the same medical facility you work for!” He could not believe it, and said, “No authority at our medical facility has said that to any of us. There is NO research or evidence to support that conclusion. The information B was given is simply wrong.”

And thus ends our exceedingly frustrating experience with Covid-19 testing.

In the past 13 days, I have only been inside two buildings in situations where I could not maintain six feet of social distance (Walmart and the post office), and both times I wore a mask. I will be greeting at church tomorrow morning, taking temps and requiring hand sanitizer… and wearing a mask and gloves.

Greater than and less than (a.k.a. “less is more”?)

Various aspects of life have changed in recent weeks. We are now using/doing more of certain things and less of others.

Soap: more. We used to go through a bar of Irish Spring about every ten days when Scott’s home, every 15 days when he’s away. Right now, he’s here, and we’re whipping out a new bar on average every six days, thanks to all the extra showering caused by his playing tennis three or four times a week instead of two. = )

Walmart runs: less. I had been doing one large, one small, and – I’m embarrassed to admit – one tiny trip per week. (In my defense, I did have to drive past Walmart coming home from the gym six times a week.) With the advisory to stay at home AMAP, I have determined to only go to WM once a week on Wednesdays. Bonus points to me for holding out for eight days, complements of last week’s run having been on a Tuesday.

Neighbors greeted: more. Three of our neighbor ladies who work full-time outside the home are now working from home, so we often see each other out walking or driving and stop to chat. Without their commute times, I think they get to sleep in a bit and have more time to visit.

Gas: less. Much less. In my former life, I drove the Durango a minimum of 20 miles a day and often much more, but with the gym closed,* it now sits parked in the driveway (sideways and with the door open to sun-dry the carpet; we’ve had a lot of rain lately) for days at a time. Instead of my customary 19-gallon fill-up every six days, yesterday I filled up with a mere 13 gallons, and I hadn’t been to Gateway in eight days.

Yes, times have changed.

 

*  At the gym, I work out for 25 minutes on a seated elliptical, then do about 10 minutes of upper body work with weight machines before coming home and walking .7 mile round trip to the gate and back. I’m still doing my walk each morning, but it’s been rather challenging to achieve 25 minutes of no-impact cardio. Necessity being the mother of invention, here’s my current work-around.

If, then, ouch!

If you like to eat your strawberries sliced in quarters, and

If you always slice them quickly into the palm of your left hand (because that’s how you’ve sliced them for as long as you can remember, and anyway, who would use a cutting board to slice strawberries?), and

If you completely forget that you recently sharpened every knife you own, and

If you quickly slice luscious, sweet strawberries into the palm of your left hand,

Then, you will – within approximately 17 seconds – realize that the palm of your left hand is now in possession of several paper-cut-type slits.

Ouch!

After a bit of experimentation, you will further realize that because of the positioning of said slits, it is absolutely impossible to affix a Band-Aid in such a way that your wounds are adequately covered (and therefore pain-free) AND you have use of your left hand.

You will therefore sacrifice the latter (function) for the former (comfort) and trust that when you gently remove the Band-Aid some 24 hours later, the cells of your left palm will have gone far enough into reproductive overdrive to allow you to once again perform tasks like cutting fresh pineapple, washing dishes with Palmolive, and/or prepping tomatoes for a salad without that obnoxious “paper cut-ish” stinging discomfort.

And because pain makes single-trial learning highly effective, every time you pick up a knife in the next three days, you will experience a new level of respect for its razor sharp edge.

Duh heel bone connecta to duh. . .

Knee bone.

It was indeed gout in my left heel, and it did subside after a few days. Less than two weeks later, the inner side of my right knee began to ache, and by the time I figured out that that was gout too, the pain was so intense that I could NOT bend my knee at all.

(Do please note that a bum knee leaves one much more ambulatory than a bum heel. With the former, although the knee absolutely will not bend a degree one can hobble around stiff-legged, and can even drive, albeit illegally. With the latter, crutches are required.)

Thankfully, my doctor is available by email, and he agreed that it sounded like gout. He called out a prescription for a three-pill med regimen of colchicine. The instructions say to “take two tablets by mouth at the first sign of a gout flare, followed by one tablet one hour later. Well, I got the med three days after it flared, but I took it as directed (and thankfully had only one of the NUMEROUS and challenging side effects listed on its paperwork). Colchicine, combined with insanely high doses of Aleve and ibuprofen, began to bring relief in 48 hours, and I am about 87% back to normal now. However, this all means that I must reduce my uric acid – by hook or by crook – so I am eating less meat, and endeavoring to drink even more water. I feel like a sponge!

Once the inflammation and pain in the knee is totally gone, I am to start on a different daily med to lower my blood uric acid level. For six months. Sigh. But rather than resenting the meds, I am choosing to be thankful that God gave somebody the insight to come up with them and that they are working well to regulate various things in my body properly.

 

Three more firsts. . . what a year so far!

In the spirit of 2016 being the year of doing new things for the first time, last week I added three of those to my list: walking on crutches, using an electric wheelchair, and going to Urgent Care (for me, not for a kid with a sliced open finger).

It happened this way: Thursday night I went to choir. I really enjoy our community choir rehearsals. They are two hours in the week when I don’t have to think about kid issues, church people issues, marital issues, shopping, cooking, cleaning, or laundry responsibilities, the pile on my desk, or anything on my to do list. From 7:00-9:00 p.m. on Thursday, I think ONLY about choir and music and singing, and it’s loads of fun.

But that night, about halfway through choir, the outside of my left heel began to ache. Now, at 55, I must confess that I have had several bodily parts occasionally express odd levels of discomfort for seemingly no good reason, and this ache certainly fell into that category. It got worse throughout our rehearsal, and I figured it was probably related to my only doing my calf stretches (to prevent plantar fasciitis) once a day for the past six weeks instead of the faithful three times a day I did them before my hysterectomy. I went to bed thinking that it was surely just some weird thing that would be gone in the morning.

It was not gone in the morning.

Early Friday morning I needed to pee, but I could not bear ANY weight on my left foot. It was horrific pain – enough to make me yelp and cry – and I half hopped, half crawled to the bathroom and then took two ibuprofen. The pain was intense, but after an hour it was a bit better and I managed to do my walk, albeit in slow motion. However, at four hours, the horrific, unbearable pain resumed and I took two more ibuprofen. Which didn’t seem to help much and wore off completely in three hours. At which point I took two more, and they helped not the least bit at all. I knew I couldn’t keep taking ibuprofen every two hours, and since it wasn’t doing anything anyway, I quit that, called my doctor’s office, and took the earliest available appointment on the following Tuesday afternoon. I then went to the pharmacy and bought a pair of crutches.  = {

Saturday morning, the foot was somewhat worse, and Scott thought that the level of pain I was experiencing might indicate a break. A break? Well, maybe, but exactly how would one break a bone in one’s foot while sitting in a pew and singing?!?!? He took me to Urgent Care where an amount of being wheel-chaired around and three X-rays later, it was determined that nothing was broken. The doc there said it was either my plantar fasciitis flaring up (in which case I should rest it completely for two days, take two Aleve twice a day, and then resume my stretches five times a day), or it was a torn ligament (in which case I should rest it completely for two days, take two Aleve twice a day, but not do any stretches because they would only make it worse).

I hobbled home and spent the rest of the day crutching all over town (O, my aching pits!) with Katie for a wide variety of items needed to stock our newly acquired vacation rental home. In both Target and Wal-Mart, I sucked up my pride and used one of those electric chairs; in so doing, I was repeatedly reminded that I am clearly not licensed to drive those kinds of vehicles, and that backing up is totally humiliating.

Having rested and Aleved the foot thoroughly, by Sunday morning I was able to bear weight on it with only a slight limp, so I went crutchless to church and to our THRIVE meeting that evening.

Monday was better, almost normal, but I kept my Tuesday afternoon appointment and I’m really glad I did. Dr. Salmon ruled out both plantar fasciitis and torn ligaments, saying that he strongly suspected acute gout, a condition about which I knew literally only one fact: my dad had had gout. Dr. Salmon, who is a wonderful medical detective and instructor, explained it to me thoroughly, and I will summarize for you: gout is caused by a build-up of uric acid which then crystallizes in a joint (or in my case, in the lining of a tendon), causing extreme pain. Uric acid is what the body metabolizes protein into. Because I take a diuretic twice a day and so lose fluid, my tissues are tend to be somewhat dehydrated (despite my guzzling great quantities of water), and the level of uric acid in my blood is even more highly concentrated than that of the average bear. Indeed, mine checked out at an impressive 10.7  mg/dL, when it should be below 6.0. Well.

Dr. Salmon thought that cutting my diuretic back to only once a day, which would keep me better hydrated and thereby dilute my uric acid concentration, would probably solve the problem without my having to take uric acid-lowering medication. I really DON’T want to have to take any more meds! So I skipped my second dose of the diuretic for one day and promptly gained three POUNDS of fluid in my ankles(!!!), so that didn’t work, and I’m back to two doses. Right now, I am advised to lower my intake of protein (very sad) and beer (no sorrow there), continue to drink plenty of water, and wait and see if I have any further attacks. I am believing that I won’t.

My crutches are in the cellar now, and it is my fond hope that they will stay there unused forever.

To answer the question, “Would you rather have judgment or mercy?” I say I’d rather have

. . . Cox.

For previous insurance reasons that required me to use a St. John’s primary care physician, for quite a few years, I had my mammograms done at St. John’s (now Mercy) in Springfield. Between the drive up there and back (90 minutes total), the registration time (5 minutes), the wait in the outer waiting room (30-45 minutes), the wait while scantily clad in the inner waiting room (10 minutes), and the time for the procedure itself (5 minutes), I generally allowed up to three hours for the whole shooting match.

But now that I am using a Cox primary care physician in Branson, my last two mammograms have been at the outpatient building at Cox Branson (formerly Skaggs), and I must say that in this regard, Cox can certainly teach their Mercy competition a few things.

Now, I will admit on the front end that parking was a challenge. In fact, it was the most time-consuming part of the whole adventure. For one thing, no one wants to park in the main hospital lot and then hike over to the outpatient building, so the natural tendency is to look for a space in the row of parking places in front of the outpatient building. Unfortunately, those spaces were obviously reserved for those who had camped out for them the night before.

The next place to look would be around the back of the outpatient building where a series of signs with big arrows (and we 50-somethings do so appreciate clear signage!) directs one to OUTPATIENT PARKING. Unfortunately, the few of those spaces that are vacant are “Reserved for Cancer Patients.” [Be it noted that I, not being a cancer patient, had no legal right to park there, and since I have great compassion for those who are, I would never park there anyway.]

So, having thus far located exactly zero available parking spaces, one finds oneself suddenly thrust, whether one likes it or not, into the depths of the new parking deck. I have always had issues with parking decks. These issues are probably about as rational as the deep-seated anxiety I face when popping open a tube of crescent rolls, but they are issues nonetheless. Actually, I suppose I just have a lot of questions about parking decks. For example. . .

1. Why must they have such massive, lumpy humps each time you turn to enter a new level? I could maybe understand this significant construction error occurring – and then being left uncorrected for all posterity – once, but on every turn into every level? Come on, guys! Are the parking deck builders not provided with levels? Even I, a somewhat normal (HA!) mom who lacks even an undergraduate degree in engineering can clearly see when concrete slabs have not been laid flat. With all the technology available today, can’t someone figure this out and fix it?

2. Why is it that the spaces in parking decks are situated such that if there really is an empty one, you cannot possibly tell it’s empty until you have driven past it? Really now, who wants to risk backing up in a such a structure? And then this corollary question, which I realize is probably just user error, but which happens so very consistently that one does begin to wonder: why are parked cars in parking decks always alternated big, little, big, little, big, little, so that if you do spot an empty space and begin to turn into it, you inevitably find that a tiny car only half the length of yours is already parked in it? Can people with micro cars not park so that the back of their car is flush with the backs of the two big cars on either side of it? This seems to be standard procedure for books on library shelves. Could we not sway the culture in this very logical direction for parking decks, too?

3. Why are there always workmen standing around in the depths of parking decks, and why are they so rarely working, and why do they give me the creeps as I walk past them and we exchange nods? Well, maybe the creeps part is my deal, but can’t the parking deck building and electrical and paving and striping folks just do all their construction work before the deck opens and then leave it alone?

4. And finally, why is it that if you drive on past the only three vacant spots in the deck because they are all three maximally distant from the stairs (and closest to the workmen standing around), the odds on your finding another empty space before you are see daylight ahead and are about to exit the parking deck are 79:1?

As I said, the parking deal was a bit challenging, but I did eventually squeeze my Durango into a space that was probably intended for a Honda Civic. At that point, I had the rather humorous challenge of trying to figure out how to exit my car without removing any door paint from the vehicle to my left, but I will leave that one to your imagination. Once extricated, I did also have a bit of a hike from my car – past the requisite workmen – to my destination, BUT from the time I walked into the Cox Health Women’s Center office until the time I walked out of said office with my mammogram completed was less than fifteen minutes! And on the shelf in the bathroom where I did my two quick changes, some sensitive female soul had placed a Dove milk chocolate!

This was my experience last year, as well (including the chocolate), but at the time I assumed it was all a fluke. Now, having invested a grand total of 48 minutes door-to-Walnut-Shade-door, I am convinced that this must be Cox’s S.O.P. for mammograms. I am duly impressed, and I am saving my Dove for a special occasion.

The most amazing surgery story ever – part 4 (conclusion)

(January 21, 2016 “Ready to start home”)

In an hour, we leave the hotel for a follow-up appt. with Dr. Shibley, and then on to the airport. Scott will be arranging wheelchairs and early boarding for us, so all should be fine. I will be lazy and continue to be treated like a queen.  = )

I feel good – no pain when sitting or lying down, but a little bit when getting into and out of those positions. Walking (I’ve been doing two laps of the hall each hour when I’m awake) is just a little bit uncomfortable, I think mainly because my clothes brushing against my steri-strips is slightly irritating. In the privacy of our room I can keep my incision site uncovered, but I’m pretty sure the hotel would frown upon a public display of my purple smiley face. My digestive system is once again happy.

I am quite tired, which is to be expected. I haven’t been sleeping very well at night, although a Percocet at bedtime did buy me four straight hours of sleep last night. But I can fall asleep sitting down at any time; like hopefully on a plane!

Please pray for all the usual things involved in flying, especially since we will once again be in violation of several of “Katie’s Rules of Air Travel.”

My guess is that when we arrive home, I will be ready for bed, so I may not deal with sending an email tonight to say we made it. Just assume all is well, and thanks SO much for taking time to pray so faithfully for us.

Blessings,

Patty, who is pretty sure it’s time for another nap  = )

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(January 21, 2106 “Home!”)

It’s 9:20 PM Thursday and we are home!

Due to our flight being delayed out of Minneapolis because our plane had to be de-iced, we ended up having a rather tight connection in Chicago. We made it – thanks to a nice young man who wheeled me from concourse K to concourse G – but my checked bag did not. It will be delivered Friday morning.

So God has answered ALL those very specific prayer requests, and we are both so, so, so very blessed.

I’m tired and a little sore, but ibuprofen and heating pads are my friends.  = )

The doc today said everything is wonderful, all my pathology (lots of fibroids) was negative, and I should continue to feel better each day. I can resume normal activity as tolerated, but am supposed to mainly rest, walk daily, and drink a lot (of water!) for two weeks.

Thank you all and good night.

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(January 26, 2016 “Update, 7 days post-surgery”)

Several of you have called, emailed, or texted to ask how I’m doing, and the short answer is GREAT!!!! I have been working on an editing project and year-end ministry donation receipts and various parenting matters, and I am sorry that I haven’t yet been able to reply to you individually. I very much appreciate your prayers and interest!

I’ve not taken anything for pain (not even ibuprofen) the past couple days, and I only have mild discomfort when bending and when getting in and out of certain positions. Hence I avoid bending and stay where I’m comfortable.  = )

Mostly, I tire easily and there are times when I just want to sit and do nothing, so I do. I am able to walk, climb stairs, and do most normal things. I’m not driving yet, but plan to drive just a bit on Thursday. I’m also not doing normal housework (laundry, washing dishes, cleaning), so either the guys or doing it or it just doesn’t get done. I am OK with that. Our church and other friends have been bringing us meals and that has been a HUGE blessing.

My main prayer request is to be able to sleep at night. The first night home, I slept 10:30 PM to 8:00 AM, but since then, it takes anywhere from 20 minutes to two hours to fall asleep (no exaggeration), and then I wake up about every two hours and can’t fall back asleep. Even an Rx sleeping med doesn’t seem to work, and I am getting pretty desperate to sleep four or five hours straight at night, and eight would be even better. I think when I can get back to my regular morning walks, that will help a lot, but I just don’t have the energy to walk for exercise yet.

Thank you for asking and for praying!

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(February 5, 2016 “Update, 17 days post-surgery”)

One of my friends asked how I’m doing, and that made me think it would be good to update all of you at once. In short, I’m doing great and thanks for praying!

I am basically back to full speed, with the exception of resting – and sometimes falling sound asleep – for about an hour each day in the early afternoon. I’ve resumed my morning walking, but not yet as far or as fast as formerly. I’m doing two of my usual four laps now and plan to be back up to four laps in a couple more weeks.

I’ve been having night sweats each night; please don’t bother to try this at home. Just take my word for it that they are decidedly not recreational. I had thought for sure that I was done with such stuff when our bed-wetting child finally outgrew the habit, but maybe the repeat physical situation of dealing effectively with wet sheets while semi-asleep at 55 is something akin to the repeat parental situation of dealing effectively with toddler-hood’s defiance in a teenager!

I have no pain at all; just some mild fatigue, and. . . rejoice with me. . . I have not bled at all in 14 days!!!!!  I’ll have a follow-up appt with my PCP next week (at 3 weeks post) at which I expect I’ll be released for full activity of all kinds, without restriction. [NOTE: I did have that appointment and that is exactly what happened. My PCP was AMAZED at my recovery!]

So far, our out-of-pocket expenses for the whole deal have totaled $400, and Medi-Share sent us a check for $500 ($100/day to cover our incidental expenses for food, car rental, etc. during our five-day foray into the Arctic), AND they told us we shouldn’t be receiving any medical bills [we haven’t] and who to call if we do, AND they have reduced our family’s monthly “share” (premium), which is normally $400, to something like $125 for March, April, and May. We are SO BLESSED!!!

I know that God has powerfully answered your prayers for me.  I am grateful to him and to you, and I am humbled.