This morning I saw Katie off on the first leg of her journey to Ireland. As I write this, she is winging her way to Newark, NJ where she will have a five-hour layover before taking off for Shannon and then Limerick.
We have known she was going to study abroad for 9 months now, so there has been a lot of time to get used to the idea. However, it didn't start seeming real until the past few days--days that were stressful, "crisis"-filled, and loaded with last-minute travel advice for Katie from the parental units. She did more than her share of eye-rolling, I'm sure.
We happened to see the movie "Taken" on HBO, which was a second viewing for all 3 of us. It stars Liam Neeson as a CIA agent whose daughter talks her parents into letting her take a trip to Paris with her best friend--when she's really planning to follow the band U2 around Europe on their concert tour. She ends up being kidnapped, drugged, and sold into the sex trade. Neeson, of course, heads to France and does some major butt-kicking until finally rescuing her before anything really bad happens. At the end, Fred and I looked pointedly at Katie, hoping she'd absorbed the life lessons in the film: don't lie to your parents, don't trust strangers, use good judgment. She looked back at us and said, "If that happens to me, I'm screwed."
Fred left early Thursday morning for Florida, so he said his goodbyes Wednesday night, again giving her a list of dos and don'ts as she sighed heavily and nodded. That night the WORST (to her) happened: her laptop came down with a bad virus. "What are we going to do?" she wailed. "I leave on Monday!!" Trying my best to be the voice of reason, I told her we'd get it fixed on Friday, and if worse came to worst she could take my computer with her; getting so bent out of shape over problems that are "fixable" isn't the best reaction. She should save her meltdowns for bigger things. (Like losing her passport!)
On Friday we took the computer in and had several hours of shopping and errands to run. The pharmacy gave us trouble over dispensing multiple months' worth of medications, even though the insurance company okayed it, so we had another hassle to deal with. Katie was getting fed up with my shopping suggestions, and I was getting fed up with her attitude. Both of us were grappling with the suddenly imminent idea that we wouldn't see each other for 4 months and would be 4000 miles apart.
The computer got fixed. The pharmacist reversed course and gave us all the prescriptions she needed. We had a nice dinner together after getting through a difficult day.
Last night after we got into our beds at our friends Paul and Lauri's in Eau Claire, I gave in to the emotion and the tears came. It didn't take much and Katie was crying, too. With that out of our systems, I figured we'd be good to go this morning at the shuttle. As I hugged her one last time, the driver asked, "So where are you going, young lady?" "Ireland," she croaked out as she struggled not to cry. And then she was off to begin her adventure.
We raise our kids with the intention of them becoming independent and leaving the nest, but that doesn't make it easier when it actually happens. However, I will be visiting Katie in Limerick, probably around her 21st birthday in April. (Flights for St. Patrick's Day are already booked!) And I'm sure she will be happy to know that I'll have 3 months' worth of motherly wisdom stored up for her when I get there.
Have a wonderful time, sweetie! We love you!!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Colonoscopy, the Final Chapter
I'm now a certified member of the Colonoscopy Club, and I can't believe what a breeze it was! Getting up early to be there by 6:45 this morning was the hardest part. Upon arrival at the hospital, I was taken to a room to change and have an IV started. Then I met the multiple people involved in the procedure: a nurse, the anesthesiologist, a nurse anesthetist, somebody controlling an instrument panel, and the doctor. By 8:00 I was in the surgical suite being told to roll on my side and bend my knees. Seconds later I was skiing through my colon, what looked like a big pink tunnel with wind noises swooshing around me. As I slalomed happily along, I became aware of someone calling my name. I opened my eyes and found myself back in the room where I'd started. Wow, what a dream! I felt normal except for a little grogginess, and was thrilled when they brought me a blueberry muffin and some orange juice. Katie brought me home and I had some pancakes; now it's time for a nap.
Anybody out there who is due for a colonoscopy, GET ONE!! It's so easy a cave man could do it!
Anybody out there who is due for a colonoscopy, GET ONE!! It's so easy a cave man could do it!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Colonoscopy, Number Two
I just read Dave Barry's 2008 column about his first colonoscopy. I had read it before, but today it is more timely for me. I figured that laughing out loud about it would be better than dreading it. Today is "prep day." I already screwed up the process by forgetting to drink 8 oz. of water at 9 and 10 AM--I was out walking the dogs then. At 11:00 I mixed up a tasty 8 oz. glass of "LO-SO Prep." It's a supposedly low sodium combination of magnesium carbonate, citric acid, and potassium citrate. After it stopped fizzing, it looked like a glass of milk. That's not what it tasted like though. Actually, it was the smell that gagged me--like salt mixed with something burning. I tried holding my nose to drink it, but discovered then I couldn't breathe. So I took a deep breath and chugged it down, Katie watching and encouraging "Go, Mom!" I burped a couple times and prayed I wouldn't throw it all up. A few deep breaths later, it seemed to be settling ok--and here I am. It's supposed to produce results in 30 minutes to 6 hours. I can have all the clear liquids, jello, and broth that I want today. At 1:00 I have to take 4 horse-size pills, and early tomorrow morning use a torpedo-shaped suppository. Katie didn't know what that was, so I explained and said "I hope you can get it in there far enough." The horrified look on her face was priceless.
If you are hesitant about having a colonoscopy, just suck it up and get past the embarrassment. Everybody has a colon, and doctors get paid big bucks to do these distasteful things! And lucky me will get $50 from our insurance company to have it done--money I can use for my soldiers. So read Dave Barry's column; I posted it on Facebook, or just Google "Dave Barry colonoscopy" and it will take you right to it at the Miami Herald. No one should die of a preventable cancer because the screening process for it is disgusting. There are a lot worse--oops, gotta go!
If you are hesitant about having a colonoscopy, just suck it up and get past the embarrassment. Everybody has a colon, and doctors get paid big bucks to do these distasteful things! And lucky me will get $50 from our insurance company to have it done--money I can use for my soldiers. So read Dave Barry's column; I posted it on Facebook, or just Google "Dave Barry colonoscopy" and it will take you right to it at the Miami Herald. No one should die of a preventable cancer because the screening process for it is disgusting. There are a lot worse--oops, gotta go!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Father of Kingsport soldier killed in Afghanistan: 'There's no better way of dying than dying for your country, for your people' - Kingsport Times-News Online
Below is a link to an article about the death of SFC Jason Hickman from his hometown newspaper in Tennessee. I still don't have information about the funeral or a memorial, but will update when I do.
Father of Kingsport soldier killed in Afghanistan: 'There's no better way of dying than dying for your country, for your people' - Kingsport Times-News Online
Posted using ShareThis
Father of Kingsport soldier killed in Afghanistan: 'There's no better way of dying than dying for your country, for your people' - Kingsport Times-News Online
Posted using ShareThis
Monday, January 11, 2010
Honoring a Lost Hero
Today I learned that one of my soldier contacts in Afghanistan was killed by an IED last Thursday. I am in shock from this news. He is the first person I've lost in five and a half years of sending packages to the troops, and I always wondered how I would react. I feel like I've lost someone dear to me, even though we had never met.
Jay was a Sergeant First Class in the Army, married with 3 little boys ages 6, 5, and 2. He was born in Alaska, raised in Kingsport, TN, and currently living/stationed back in Alaska before deploying to Khost, Afghanistan--right on the Pakistan border, one of the worst places in the country. He was a combat engineer, a member of a "Sapper" group whose job was to clear roads of IEDs, build towers and bridges, and "destroy anything in our way," he wrote in one e-mail. He was also a paratrooper. He wrote, "Being paratroopers, we have to rely on each other a lot and be ready to parachute into any hostile area in the world and kick butt."
The packages and letters he and his guys received from home meant so much to him. "Thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and may God bless everyone a thousand times over. We are truly grateful for everything you have done for us. It is really hard to imagine what it is like here for us, and when we receive care packages from people such as yourselves, it means the world to us." He showed what he was made of when he later said, "My dad was a Vietnam veteran, and the things he told me about his return trip home almost kept me from joining the military. But I wanted to follow in his footsteps and serve my country, and be part of something bigger than myself."
The last package I sent to Jay was before Christmas. He was home on leave in early December, and I'm not sure how long he was back in Afghanistan before he died. Last summer he e-mailed: "I can't wait to get back to Alaska to take my boys camping and fishing. I plan on taking them to Disneyland next spring." He would have been home for good in March.
If I find out more information about a memorial for him and his family, I will post it here. The main message I want to convey besides honoring this brave young man is that we ALL can make our troops' time away from their homes and families more bearable by showing them that they aren't forgotten and that we care. E-mail me if you want to know how you can get started. The one thing consoling me right now is that Jay knew there was a family in Wisconsin who appreciated his service and cared for him until the end. I hope it helped.
Jay was a Sergeant First Class in the Army, married with 3 little boys ages 6, 5, and 2. He was born in Alaska, raised in Kingsport, TN, and currently living/stationed back in Alaska before deploying to Khost, Afghanistan--right on the Pakistan border, one of the worst places in the country. He was a combat engineer, a member of a "Sapper" group whose job was to clear roads of IEDs, build towers and bridges, and "destroy anything in our way," he wrote in one e-mail. He was also a paratrooper. He wrote, "Being paratroopers, we have to rely on each other a lot and be ready to parachute into any hostile area in the world and kick butt."
The packages and letters he and his guys received from home meant so much to him. "Thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and may God bless everyone a thousand times over. We are truly grateful for everything you have done for us. It is really hard to imagine what it is like here for us, and when we receive care packages from people such as yourselves, it means the world to us." He showed what he was made of when he later said, "My dad was a Vietnam veteran, and the things he told me about his return trip home almost kept me from joining the military. But I wanted to follow in his footsteps and serve my country, and be part of something bigger than myself."
The last package I sent to Jay was before Christmas. He was home on leave in early December, and I'm not sure how long he was back in Afghanistan before he died. Last summer he e-mailed: "I can't wait to get back to Alaska to take my boys camping and fishing. I plan on taking them to Disneyland next spring." He would have been home for good in March.
If I find out more information about a memorial for him and his family, I will post it here. The main message I want to convey besides honoring this brave young man is that we ALL can make our troops' time away from their homes and families more bearable by showing them that they aren't forgotten and that we care. E-mail me if you want to know how you can get started. The one thing consoling me right now is that Jay knew there was a family in Wisconsin who appreciated his service and cared for him until the end. I hope it helped.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Sweatin' to the Oldies
Last week I ordered the 20th anniversary collection of Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies from Amazon. The 5-DVD set arrived on Tuesday, but this morning was the first chance I had to give them a try. Fred had told me he wanted to reinforce the living room floor boards before I started, but too bad; I decided to risk ending up in the basement for the sake of fitness.
Anyone familiar with Richard Simmons knows that he wears a tank top and way-too-short shorts to lead his merry band of chubby people, dressed in various attire, through aerobics accompanied by music from the '50s and '60s. I was wearing shorts, a Brewers T-shirt, and my glasses, accompanied only by cats with assorted looks of puzzlement on their furry faces. Thankfully Katie was still in bed and missed the spectacle.
The first song was "Dancing in the Street." Not too fast, just a good warm-up--but I heard body parts popping and cracking almost immediately. Richard's moves are easy to learn and follow, and in the more up-tempo songs like "Peggy Sue" and "Great Balls of Fire," the sweatin' he promised was definitely delivered. I looked like I do after an 8-minute performance of "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights." I noticed that the really overweight people in Richard's back-up group seemed to sit out every other song to catch their breath. The only short breaks I took were to get some water, turn down the thermostat, and answer a call from Fred. I was huffing and puffing into the phone in the middle of "Wipeout"--a song I'd last performed solo at a teacher's union Christmas party in 1983.
I completed the first DVD in about a half hour, feeling like I'd really gotten a good workout. The living room floor is intact, and I hope it doesn't start to smell like a gym in here. I'll probably have sore muscles tomorrow--the cool-down stretching gave me a charlie horse. Fred says he's going to join me doing this on weekends. I hope I won't be laughing too hard to do the routines.
If you're interested in a fun way to exercise at home, I recommend these DVDs--the complete set was $35.99 on Amazon with free shipping. It's also a trip down memory lane, reminding me of the bad dancing we used to do in high school. Tomorrow I'll try DVD #2, which includes "Jailhouse Rock". I'll try to do it justice on Elvis' 75th birthday--maybe I'll wear a jumpsuit.
Anyone familiar with Richard Simmons knows that he wears a tank top and way-too-short shorts to lead his merry band of chubby people, dressed in various attire, through aerobics accompanied by music from the '50s and '60s. I was wearing shorts, a Brewers T-shirt, and my glasses, accompanied only by cats with assorted looks of puzzlement on their furry faces. Thankfully Katie was still in bed and missed the spectacle.
The first song was "Dancing in the Street." Not too fast, just a good warm-up--but I heard body parts popping and cracking almost immediately. Richard's moves are easy to learn and follow, and in the more up-tempo songs like "Peggy Sue" and "Great Balls of Fire," the sweatin' he promised was definitely delivered. I looked like I do after an 8-minute performance of "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights." I noticed that the really overweight people in Richard's back-up group seemed to sit out every other song to catch their breath. The only short breaks I took were to get some water, turn down the thermostat, and answer a call from Fred. I was huffing and puffing into the phone in the middle of "Wipeout"--a song I'd last performed solo at a teacher's union Christmas party in 1983.
I completed the first DVD in about a half hour, feeling like I'd really gotten a good workout. The living room floor is intact, and I hope it doesn't start to smell like a gym in here. I'll probably have sore muscles tomorrow--the cool-down stretching gave me a charlie horse. Fred says he's going to join me doing this on weekends. I hope I won't be laughing too hard to do the routines.
If you're interested in a fun way to exercise at home, I recommend these DVDs--the complete set was $35.99 on Amazon with free shipping. It's also a trip down memory lane, reminding me of the bad dancing we used to do in high school. Tomorrow I'll try DVD #2, which includes "Jailhouse Rock". I'll try to do it justice on Elvis' 75th birthday--maybe I'll wear a jumpsuit.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Colonoscopy, Part One
Right before I turned 50 in September, I received a card from our insurance company that said: "You're 50! Celebrate with a colonoscopy today!!" Yeah, right. Just how I wanted to "celebrate" an already traumatic birthday. But I read through the material and discovered that they offered a $50 incentive for having the procedure done within a year of turning 50. I knew it was inevitable, just another one of the sucky aspects of getting older--so at my yearly check-up last month, I scheduled a "consult," a pre-appointment for the actual ordeal itself.
That appointment was this morning. My doctor is a woman, and I liked her right away. She asked if I had come in because of a specific concern, and I explained that I was really there to earn the $50 (which I'll use on my soldiers!) "Wow, that's a great incentive," she said. "I suppose now you want a cut?!" I asked her. She laughed and seemed like a normal person--so I didn't ask her what would inspire a doctor to specialize in this particular field. She assured me, "I look at butts all the time, so you don't need to worry about that." I assured her that after a woman has gone through pregnancy, all embarrassment and modesty fly out the window anyway. I was already thinking about what I could write on my butt the day of the procedure to make her laugh. "Be gentle"? "Born to Ride"? "Go Packers!!" ??
After she left the office, the nurse came back in to go through paperwork and schedule it with me. I was thinking it would probably be a couple months before I could get in for one, so when she said, "How about next Thursday, the 14th?" I gulped, Oh crap!! (Haha) At least if everything goes ok, I won't be subjected to this again for another 10 years.
She gave me the "prep kit" and explained it, my disgust level rising rapidly with each thing she said. Then she put it in a little brown bag so I could walk back through the waiting room without people pointing and laughing.
So now I can be dreading this for the next 10 days. I will write Part Two on Wednesday as I endure the prep phase of the process. Fred leaves for Sarasota, Florida on the 14th, so Katie is going to have to be my chauffeur and nursemaid for this. Now if I can just talk her into writing the message on my butt!
To be continued...
That appointment was this morning. My doctor is a woman, and I liked her right away. She asked if I had come in because of a specific concern, and I explained that I was really there to earn the $50 (which I'll use on my soldiers!) "Wow, that's a great incentive," she said. "I suppose now you want a cut?!" I asked her. She laughed and seemed like a normal person--so I didn't ask her what would inspire a doctor to specialize in this particular field. She assured me, "I look at butts all the time, so you don't need to worry about that." I assured her that after a woman has gone through pregnancy, all embarrassment and modesty fly out the window anyway. I was already thinking about what I could write on my butt the day of the procedure to make her laugh. "Be gentle"? "Born to Ride"? "Go Packers!!" ??
After she left the office, the nurse came back in to go through paperwork and schedule it with me. I was thinking it would probably be a couple months before I could get in for one, so when she said, "How about next Thursday, the 14th?" I gulped, Oh crap!! (Haha) At least if everything goes ok, I won't be subjected to this again for another 10 years.
She gave me the "prep kit" and explained it, my disgust level rising rapidly with each thing she said. Then she put it in a little brown bag so I could walk back through the waiting room without people pointing and laughing.
So now I can be dreading this for the next 10 days. I will write Part Two on Wednesday as I endure the prep phase of the process. Fred leaves for Sarasota, Florida on the 14th, so Katie is going to have to be my chauffeur and nursemaid for this. Now if I can just talk her into writing the message on my butt!
To be continued...
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