Friday, August 6, 2010

a cushy office job.

Tonight I found out how serious "the incident" was...

My husband is a Boilermaker. Please don't ask me what he does, because honestly, I don't know. I do know that he is supervision and makes sure the workers are doing their job and doing it well. The job he is working on entails a lot of digging in preparation for waterlines to be placed. Yesterday, there was "an incident". That's what they're calling it. Apparently, an operator was digging and hit something along the ditch. He scraped it a little but because they didn't know what it was, my husband told them to leave it alone and go to the other end of the trench to continue on. Later that day, they found out what they had hit.

It was a power line that is the backup power source for the Peach Bottom power plant. The entire power plant. A 33KV line. 33,000 volts.

My husband could have died yesterday.

I send my husband to work everyday knowing what he does isn't safe. I send him off to work praying for his safety during his hour plus commute to work. I pray for his safety for his commute home. I pray that he returns to me safely every single day. Some days, I wake up in a cold sweat with a bad feeling and franticly call him to make sure he is ok.

This "incident" was something major and somebody screwed up. And because my husband was standing there, had the bucket really got a hold of that line, he most likely would not have come home... my worst nightmare

I can't even wrap my head around that.

I wish he had kept that information to himself.

I live each day with a faith that God will take care of my family while they're away from me. I know that ultimately, the people who I love the most in this world, are in His hands at all times. But I just can't let go of the worry.

I love my husband.

He is my best friend. My true love. He is the first person I think about in the morning and the last person I think about at night. Really, truly.

I can't imagine my life without him... and I hate that he goes to work in such dangerous conditions. He needs a different job. Like a retail job... or a telemarketer. They're safe, right?








Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Take that, Murphy.

Nursing my foot back to health while having a healthy view about it has been going better than I originally anticipated. I changed my attitude and took control of the situation choosing not to be the victim. I'm proud. And of course, since I have changed my outlook and have chosen the positive route, Murphy's Law has shown up and is challenging my positive view and is raining on my parade.

My incision is opening up.

Yeah. You said it. Yuck.

I called the doctor roughly 10 minutes ago inquiring if it is normal for a little bit of oozy yuck to come from the incision; I'm fairly certain it's not an infection ooze, but it's an ooze nonetheless. I was expecting to hear, "yes, it's fairly common to have a little bit of blood on your bandage, it's really nothing to be concerned over." But instead, I heard, "No, it really shouldn't be bleeding and you shouldn't have any oozing. Come in so one of the girls can look at it."

Really? Fantastic.

So, not only am I regretting the decision, but now I'm worried because the side of my foot is opening up and it's not supposed to be.

Splendid.

I'm choosing to stay positive though. I'm looking Murphy in the eye, and laughing. Why? Because I won't heal as quickly if I'm mopey, right? So the bright side? The pain in my foot is subsiding and I'm able to wear a flip flop. No more ugly, bulky surgical shoe. Plus, I can walk a little more normally now. Yay!

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

stinky feet.

Regret can eat you alive.

Regret is not something I'm familiar with. In my life, I've done some really stupid things. Really stupid. Some of those things have changed the course of my life, but I'm not going to say that they were bad decisions. I'm not necessarily unhappy with my life, although I do wish some things were different.

So, I had this pain in my foot, so like a good little wife, I listened to my husband and went to see the doctor. Like I've said before in past posts, this office visit ended up with my signing papers for surgery.

I'm deeply regretting that decision.

I'm trying very hard not to be a Donna Downer, but I'm having a really hard time with this foot thing. I think the most frustrating aspect of the whole situation is that when we spoke to the doctor prior to his cutting my foot, he made it sound very easy. I'd be off my foot for a few days, but then I'd be back to normal. HA. I wouldn't have much pain. HA. HA. I would be able to walk on it a day after the surgery. HA HA HA! That's so not the case.

I'm frustrated I guess. I'm frustrated that I didn't listen to my gut instinct and not go through with it. I'm frustrated that I can't walk normally. I'm frustrated that I'm impatient and I'm frustrated that I can't take back this decision.

It stinks.

So... where does that leave me? My husband told me {as I sat sobbing} that I can't change anything {honestly trying to make me feel better}. What's done is done, I suppose. All I can do is move forward, taking care of my foot, rehabbing it back to health. It seems so tedious. It seems so long.

{sigh}



Monday, August 2, 2010

Big Girl Panties

Today is just about 2 weeks after my foot surgery. I'm actually surprised how well my foot feels and how fast my pain had subsided. It took almost 5 days until I could put weight on it, but once that happened, it was super speedy. And of course, I took advantage of feeling good and my foot swelled up like a water balloon. A little elevation, some Aleve and rest fixed that.

But today, is also another milestone in my healing process. Today I get my 2 inches of stitches out.

YIKES!

I'd love to say that this isn't a big deal and I'm totally cool about it. If I did, I'd be totally lying and you better move out of the way or you might get caught in the bolt of lightning aiming right for me. I'm not ok with this. Not at all. And to make matters worse? My husband isn't going with me.

I just threw up a little in my mouth.

I'm really not a wuss. At least I wouldn't consider myself one. I'm usually tough. I can handle myself. I've gotten stitches out before. I go and get blood drawn by myself. I go to Target on the weekends. I pump my own gas. But having these stitches removed? Um, I'd like some reinforcements, please.

I guess I just have to stop whining and put my big girl panties on. It'll be ok, right? I've had stitches removed before. I survived. It'll be ok.

{gulp}





Saturday, July 31, 2010

a plane ticket, some gypsies and paradise

It was such a lovely evening, I decided to sit outside and wait for my husband to come home from work. My sitting immediately became laying, and I ended up inside of an open trailer looking up at the sky. I spent hours {ok, it was really just minutes} gazing at this expanse of blue sky swirled with white clouds. I watched as these clouds slowly made their way from the southwest to the southeast above me. They seemed so free. I know that's silly... clouds aren't 'free' from anything... but it was carefree, I guess. As I continued my cloud gazing, an airplane came across my view. It was a jet, heading who-knows-where, but I continued to think about this plane long after it disappeared from sight.

I wondered about the passengers and pilots. I wondered if they could see me laying there watching them {I know they couldn't.. but I still thought about it} and I wondered who it actually was on that plane? Where exactly were they going? I convinced myself it was someplace stress free and beautiful. Someplace far from responsibility. Someplace quiet. I quickly found myself being envious and wishing I could go wherever they were going. It had to be better than where I was.

My day was pretty stressful. My mom came to pick the kids and me up this morning to go shopping. I had a specific place I wanted to go and specific things I needed {wanted} to get done. We spent the entire day out and about. I was exhausted. My mom was exhausted. And all three kids? They were beyond exhausted... and I probably would have given them away. Really? Really. Wrong? Probably. Reality? Definitely not. But I felt that way. It was a long day and I had pushed them to the limit. Over the limit, really. And after I yelled, and threatened, and behaved in such an adult manner {insert laughter here}, I still felt stressed and ready to give them to gypsies.

That was earlier.

But tonight, after our full to the hilt day, an evening of dinner and ice cream at The Udder Choice, jammies and bedtime, I spent some time loving on those kids who I would have traded. I cuddled up to my 8 year old, kissed him all over his freckled face, told him that I loved him and said that he was my absolute "favorite Ethan". I told him how smart, cool, and amazing he was and how wrong I was to yell. I apologized. He told me it was ok. I told him it wasn't.

I walked down the hall into my {not so} little girl's room and told her I loved her and how happy I was that she was born. I told her that if she was never born and I never knew her, my life wouldn't be as full and colorful as it is now. I told her how thankful I am that she is mine. She beamed.

Remind me, why did I want to leave? And why, again, did I even let the thought of not having them enter my mind?

I really don't remember. I'm sure at some point it might revisit and rear its ugly head, but for now, I have the best kids in the world and I wouldn't trade them for anything. Not even a plane ticket to paradise.

They are my paradise.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

owie

I feel like someone cut my foot open, cut my bone apart, screwed it back together and stitched my foot closed... oh, wait, that is what happened.

I had foot surgery yesterday and today I'm wondering why. Why did I subject myself to this torture? While I lay in bed on my back with my foot propped up on 3 pillows, I've been thinking through all of my past surgeries and child births and rating them {on a scale of 1-10}. It's really not doing me any good. But what I have realized is that I preferred my appendectomy to this.

I'm praying that this Vicodin kicks in. So far it hasn't...

Sunday, July 18, 2010

a case of the crazies

Recently, I was reading some blogs and I came across one blogger who posted this article. I found it very insightful and incredibly interesting. This article touched on a few things that I could definitely relate to... and it explains so much... Read on and then share your thoughts.


Creative minds 'mimic schizophrenia'

By Michelle Roberts

Health reporter, BBC News



Creativity is akin to insanity, say scientists who have been studying how the mind works.

Brain scans reveal striking similarities in the thought pathways of highly creative people and those with schizophrenia.

Both groups lack important receptors used to filter and direct thought.

It could be this uninhibited processing that allows creative people to "think outside the box", say experts from Sweden's Karolinska Institute.

In some people, it leads to mental illness.

But rather than a clear division, experts suspect a continuum, with some people having psychotic traits but few negative symptoms.

Art and suffering

Some of the world's leading artists, writers and theorists have also had mental illnesses - the Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh and American mathematician John Nash (portrayed by Russell Crowe in the film A Beautiful Mind) to name just two.

Creativity is known to be associated with an increased risk of depression, schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

Similarly, people who have mental illness in their family have a higher chance of being creative.

Associate Professor Fredrik Ullen believes his findings could help explain why.

He looked at the brain's dopamine (D2) receptor genes which experts believe govern divergent thought.

He found highly creative people who did well on tests of divergent thought had a lower than expected density of D2 receptors in the thalamus - as do people with schizophrenia.

The thalamus serves as a relay centre, filtering information before it reaches areas of the cortex, which is responsible, amongst other things, for cognition and reasoning.

"Fewer D2 receptors in the thalamus probably means a lower degree of signal filtering, and thus a higher flow of information from the thalamus," said Professor Ullen.

“Creative people, like those with psychotic illnesses, tend to see the world differently to most. It's like looking at a shattered mirror” Mark Millard, UK psychologist

He believes it is this barrage of uncensored information that ignites the creative spark.

This would explain how highly creative people manage to see unusual connections in problem-solving situations that other people miss.

Schizophrenics share this same ability to make novel associations. But in schizophrenia, it results in bizarre and disturbing thoughts.

UK psychologist and member of the British Psychological Society Mark Millard said the overlap with mental illness might explain the motivation and determination creative people share.

"Creativity is uncomfortable. It is their dissatisfaction with the present that drives them on to make changes.

"Creative people, like those with psychotic illnesses, tend to see the world differently to most. It's like looking at a shattered mirror. They see the world in a fractured way.

"There is no sense of conventional limitations and you can see this in their work. Take Salvador Dali, for example. He certainly saw the world differently and behaved in a way that some people perceived as very odd."

He said businesses have already recognised and capitalised on this knowledge.

Some companies have "skunk works" - secure, secret laboratories for their highly creative staff where they can freely experiment without disrupting the daily business.

Chartered psychologist Gary Fitzgibbon says an ability to "suspend disbelief" is one way of looking at creativity.

"When you suspend disbelief you are prepared to believe anything and this opens up the scope for seeing more possibilities.

"Creativity is certainly about not being constrained by rules or accepting the restrictions that society places on us. Of course the more people break the rules, the more likely they are to be perceived as 'mentally ill'."

He works as an executive coach helping people to be more creative in their problem solving behaviour and thinking styles.

"The result is typically a significant rise in their well being, so as opposed to creativity being associated with mental illness it becomes associated with good mental health."