Shut down

Hi! This is a quickie since I am meeting Muscles and Ice for lunch and to catch up...before heading to Acupuncture...then work...then a farewell dinner for a colleague. That's two meals out....so, I have to be especially good when choosing what to eat. No skittles today...although, I saw an amazing cake on Pintrest that was hollow like a pinata. When the person cut into it, Skittles poured out. I got to try this one...although, with all honestly, it sounds disgusting. You don't put two great foods like cake and Skittles together. it is unnatural and destroys the purity of the eating experience.

 
On to my 1 am call...."my elbow is throbbing." It's 1 am or midnight in Illinois. That means he has been working out several hours after their game was over. Let's consider this....hours of working out with an elbow that is sore. Not a good decision.



My reply was "shut down. Ice, motrin, go to bed."

BUT....

"Shut down. Ice. Motrin. Go to bed."

IT THROBS

"Shut down the arm. Ice. Motrin. GO to bed. See trainer in morning."

Needless to say, the two hours of sleep that I received before the call was all I needed as I laid in bed and thought about this issue. When is this kid going to catch a break? He is finally hitting his stride. He is showing the world what he can do and has hit another road block.

Perhaps this is the way that life is. Maybe, life is throwing these problems at him to see how tough he really is. Or, he is an unlucky guy.

Nope, I do not believe that he is unlucky. In fact, he makes his own luck and is a winner. It is just another hurdle in his life that he can and will deal with. On the other hand, I am aging rapidly with this worry. yet, should I really worry? It is a needless emotion. After all, no one promised that it would be easy.

That's right. The road is bumpy, narrow, and in Pennsylvania, full of car-eating potholes. Let's get a grip and deal with this issue then move on.

Peace!

Easter and Passover

Happy Easter! It's a beautiful day and the BP family is coming over for brunch. Naturally there are lots of preparations. Yesterday, I was joined by BP grandparents and Buttercup as they dove into the cutting and chopping of fruits and vegetables for the party. We have food....lots of foods...an overabundance of food....I hope that people come with their appetites...they usually do, especially Big G, my 16 year old nephew who can eat his entire family's weight in food. A growing boy, football and rugby player..the kid is always hungry! His mama's food bill must be huge!

Anyway, another shout out to Sparky and the Baker. I never saw two people work so hard creating pastries in my life. Sparky made over 1000 macaroons and I think that I ate 999 of them...kidding...half of one is enough to feed Big G for a couple of days. Lines were out the door at the bakery and they had a refrigerated truck in the front with all of the orders. Celebration of Easter and Passover created quite a number of orders as the employees never stopped moving in a week's time. The Baker and Sparky worked all night and 18 hour shifts. I would have fallen asleep in my matzo crunch batter. Now they are off to a well earned and deserved vacation....dreaming of chocolate bunnies and lamb cakes.

How is the big kid? Well, this is the first Easter that we are not together. And I am surprisingly OK with it. I still filled his basket knowing that he is coming home tomorrow after class for a follow up surgical appointment and the start of physical therapy.

The team is on a four game winning streak but still very far from .500 with such a bad start. He is feeling a bit better about sitting on the bench. Last night, he stayed in and ate ice cream and watched a movie. After the coach's meltdown, he was not going to chance being seen at a party the night before a game. Wise decision, my son....wise decision.

Apparently, Angel has lost his starting job in the outfield and is in a funk. Also, his girl friend is headed to Europe for the summer, so it has added to his misery. Shall I give him the BP mom diatribe? Huh? OK, here is goes.....

Dude! You lost the job because you were outperformed. Are you going to sit on the bench and be miserable or work your butt off to regain your rightful status in the outfield...a freshman? Come on kid! Do I have to make you some cupcakes or are you going to pull yourself up by your cleats, put your head down, and work out the kinks in your game? You have what it takes to get your job back, so stop whining and get moving! As far as your girl friend is concerned, she has earned her trip to Europe. Rather than feeling sorry for yourself that she is leaving, give her props for going. That's right! This is a once in the lifetime trip...do not give her a guilt trip when she should be happy making preparations to leave...oy! MEN!

Wow, that made me feel better...how about you?

Enjoy your day....Happy Easter and Passover!

Five minutes

God morning! I am on the run today since I have physical (not mental) therapy in 20 minutes. And after pt, I am headed to the Baker's bakery to fill matzo crunch orders. What is matzo crunch? I don't know...never saw one or ate one, but I will be filling the orders today.

The bakery's busiest seasons are Easter, Christmas, and May. It gets so crazy with orders, that they fill a large truck in the front of the bakery with the orders and people pick them up from the truck and not in the store. it is amazing. Last night Sparky and the Baker did not get home until 3 am and they started again this morning filling the abundance of orders.

So, how do I feel about not getting a job at Starbucks in Ohio BUT asked to help out at the bakery? Pretty darn good! Starbucks can drop in the ocean for all I care....ooppps. I did not mean to say that 'cause I have to stop there before I start my matzo shift. Sorry...sometimes I get a little cranky that I was not even granted an interview let alone offered a job.

And so, off I go....have a great day.

Time and parties

It's Holy Week...where has the time gone? Usually, I am making plans to take a trip to a baseball field somewhere in the US. However, things are different this year with Buddy on the bench embracing the red shirt. I have had more time to accomplish goals and tasks, yet I am no where near catching up. I guess that I can do a time analysis of my days but, I don't have the time to analyze my time. Now, I know that that does make sense.

Let's chat about "embracing the red shirt." What does that mean? Well, the red shirt is a NCAA term of not playing a season yet being a member of the team. He cannot travel but he can be in the dugout and bench and participate in workouts, team meetings, and activities. Since he is red shirted, he retains his eligibility for another year meaning he will leave college after five years rather than four. Hopefully, he will leave his 5th year with a graduate degree. This would be an ideal scenario. Is it realistic? Hope so...it makes sense from an academic and financial sense. I am not sending him to college for a 5th year to major in partying....

I have nothing against parties, since I enjoy them myself...going to have the family over for Easter....so, I like parties...but I don't like the way that they make me feel the day after the party.

Do I mean 'hangover'? Yep, I do. However, I have a theory on hangovers. Over the years, I have had time to ponder the phenomenon and will share my hangover theory today for those of you who need something to consider as the spring party season begins to accelerate.

The following levels of hangovers have been postulated by BPM. An avid researcher, devoted to the scientific process, I have generated a three tiered hangover theory that has been eagerly accepted by my contemporary peers.

Level 1: the mood is giddy. Everyone has a buzz. No one is impaired and partier can safely drive home when their alcohol level is below the legal limit.

Level 2: Dancing and singing off key to old Rolling Stones and Monkees songs set the stage for this level. As the singing continues, the partier realizes that someone should take their car keys. Next day side effects include a mild headache, nausea, and bitchiness.

Level 3: the partier asks “how did I get home? Did I go out last night? Why do I feel like a train hit me?” The following day, the partier is heard to say, “I will never, ever drink again” Side effects include severe grouchiness, stiff joints, puffy eyes, and a headache that could kill a buffalo.

Yes, I have had a multitude of opportunities to observe this phenomenon and after one bout of Level III, a person hangs up their bar stool and finds other activities such as gardening and knitting to occupy their time. Do I advocate drinking? Nope, this can lead to accidents and taking the life of an innocent person. if a person is going to party, please do it safely...have a designated driver, stay overnight, or leave hours after your last drink. I may joke, but drinking and driving is not a laughing matter. Don't do it. Stay safe or stay off the road.

Speaking of which, time to get some real work done. Have a great day!

A drunken mistake or eight

Tink just left for work. She has been working with an elderly woman who needs a companion during the day while her daughters work. The woman is lovely and has been using Tink to clean out her house. Slowly, the contents of the lady's home has been coming into mine. This weekend, Tink turned down the family flask that the woman wanted her to own. She did not think that her grand daughter would want it and wanted to give it to someone special. Thankfully, Tink said 'no' to the gift.

On another note, Bullpen Grandpop is having his pacemaker battery changed in surgery today. That makes three family surgeries in one week. I believe that we are keeping the medical field busy with our knicks, dings, and breaks. According to my niece, Buttercup, BP Grandpop is coming home this afternoon and does not have to stay in the hospital overnight.

How is our pitcher doing? Oy! Ups and downs....downs and ups. Yesterday, they lost a very close conference game that they should have won. Why? Well, according to the big leftie, most of the team was partying on Saturday night and either showed up late for the game or hung over. He's furious with his team mates and the coaches are beside themselves.

What are they thinking? The majority want to play in the major leagues, but you need to get enough sleep, eat right, and not show up to the field inebriated! Theses are the basic concepts when it comes to playing on a team, especially division 1. I am deeply disappointed in these guys and am astounded that they would put the team in peril like this. Does one beer or ten really taste that good? Is the feeling of falling over drunk more important than the team and team mates? What the heck!

Well, it is the coaches responsibility to figure out what to do. I have my own theory based on my experiences coaching, but none of my players showed up drunk. They would have petty problems with one another or be haughty, but that's it. They were usually on time and we actually went to the nationals for a tournament. Are my girl tennis players more committed than these knuckle-headed baseball players? Perhaps...perhaps....They know that a beer or eight can add inches to the waistlines so they were much more careful.

OK, time for me to hobble to work. I have a meeting later and it takes me twice as long to get ready as it did last week. Have a great day!

Post op day six

Day six in the sunny northeast and I do believe that the big kid has officially turned the corner. He no longer requires Vitamin V (AKA Vicodin) to make it through the day. He's taking walks, seems more engaged, and has submitted a paper to one of his professors. His suture sites are clean and dry without any hint of infection. In other words, the guy is healing and making progress toward returning to school and re adapting to college life.

In college, there will be no mother to clean the rooms or pick up after him. No one will disinfect the sinks and bathrooms each day. There won't be a mom to make his meals or type and edit his papers (yes, I edited it last night). I do believe that I am ready to discharge my patient to the care of his room mates (oy).

Let's chat about the room mates. Angel and Big Red are great guys but immersed in the baseball season. They have their own agendas and class schedules therefore will not be available if Buddy needs them. So, he will have to be independent and figure life out on his own.

He is also ready to sit in the bullpen with the guys and offer support. They need it right now. The weekend game performances were dismal as they blew late game leads. Buddy was screaming at his computer while they were blowing the games. Their cumulative ERAs over the weekend was a whopping 22.2 (wow...that could be a record). They really miss him and he misses them.

And so, we are beginning the "cutting the cord" process and preparing for release. He's ready, I'm ready, Tink is ready...so is dad. We are all ready to see the kid resume his social and academic life. I am feeling quite positive about him leaving my supervision.

Although...it has been nice having him around the house. He adds a balance and humor to a number of situations. He's fun and funny. I like him as a person as well as loving him as a son. hmmmm....crazy? nah....We understand each other. I have watched "his movies" with him and he suffered through the Voice with me and actually sort of liked the show. He'll never sit through a Dancing with the Stars, but I can't either.

Enough said, it is time to wash his hair in the sink for the last time. Perhaps I should encourage the use of conditioner too.

Post op day 5!

Yep, we are getting closer to the removal of the sutures and the first shower in a week. Why does that please me? You have three guesses and the first two do not count.....Even though the sutures will be out, he has to stay in the immobilizer for a month.

This means we have to prepare for the inevitable return to campus. There are some plans that have to be made. First, where will the kid sleep? Since he cannot sleep in his bed and the common room is nether quiet nor private, we are left to the room that he shares with Angel. If we buy a big lounge chair, he can tip his bed and fit it into the room. Problem one almost averted. First, we have to find a place near the apartment that has a cheap (and I mean cheap) lounge chair that will deliver it by Thursday and find a room mate to accept the delivery.

Problem Two: he is left handed and the arm is in an immobilizer for three more weeks. How will he type or complete his school work? I leave this issue up to him, however, I have been asked to type a paper today to submit it by midnight. I pray that I am not typing at 11:50 pm. Currently, he thinks that his tutors are going to type his work for him. OK, let's hope that they are willing to help him in this way. Something tells me that as they type, they will be editing and changing content to reflect the right answers. Just a guess on my part....

Problem Three: Food. I asked him if he wanted me to make food and freeze it for use each day. The answer was "No room in the refrigerator or freezer." How is this possible when there are four guys living there? Well, it seems LW's parents bought food for him and filled the fridge to the brink. he orders out each day and has not touched the food, therefore, the refrigerator is filled with rotting food.

Problem Four: If it snows, how will he make it to class without sliding and falling on his arm? I can't worry about this one. It's an unknown and something that I cannot control.

Problem Five: How far behind is he in school right now? He has missed Thursday through this Thursday. Not good....I never missed class since I was not secure enough in my capacity to figure anything out on my own. Therefore, I cannot be sure how missing class will affect him. I never had tutors except for chemistry and was that really necessary....

Problem Six: I cannot think of a problem six, hopefully I have thought of all of the permutations of what can happen to a person in college when their dominant arm is permanently affixed to his stomach in an immobilizer. Perhaps this will be a new reality show as a camera follows him around campus. Yet, if I had a dollar for very person who said to him: "I am sure a cute girl is going to want to carry your books and backpack...." I would be rich enough to buy a grande Starbucks coffee.

Got to run.....Tink wants to swim before going to work today.....

it ain't over til the fat lady sings

Guess what? I am not singing...what does that mean? Well, Florida was NOT a bust, but we have to continue on our convoluted road until we have a final answer which should be tomorrow afternoon.

Ready for another crazy story? Here it comes....

Sunday, the big kid and I left for Pensacola and arrived in the evening. Not being able to see scenery, I was not sure where I was, but we figured that we were staying right on the beach. There is no boardwalk or bright lights, we could hear waves, which was pretty cool. Otherwise, we were clueless.

The next morning arrived quickly as we left early for our appointment. We got there at 8:30 am and knew that we were being squeezed in. After the kid went to x-ray, we figured that we would be out of there around noon and could look around the city. Wrong!

After seeing the fellow for a physical and explanation of our road to that point, we did not see the doctor of all doctors until noon. I figured that he would come in with attitude and entourage based on his profile in Sports Illustrated and online. Again, I was wrong. he entered the room with his fellow and introduced himself by looking at us in the eye and shaking our hands. This was already different from what we had previously experienced. As he performed a more in depth assessment than his fellow, he sat down (yes, he sat down) with us and had a 45 minute conversation.

I had to take deep breaths to keep from fainting (I was tired, hungry, and stressed out...not a good combination). That would not have been a good thing. Here is the rock star of all surgeons...the Mick Jagger...Keith Richards....Bruce Springsteen....a Navy Seal....perhaps our hero...I don't know. It was a crazy experience. So Mick, sat next to me and asked me what I did for a living...me, really? You want to know about me? really? OK, I uh...hmmm..teach...Then he asked what courses I taught...again...hmm..uh....leadership...computers...scholarly writing...."Oh, that's nice" he says. Nice...uh huh...

OK, back to the shoulder. He read the report from doctor number 2 and looked at the MRI. They concurred that the imaging was not very good, so they sent him to the ground floor for another MRI. In the meantime, it was 1pm, so I ran to the cafeteria that was opened until 2 pm to get a sandwich for the kid. As I entered the cafeteria, the sign on the door read: "No photos or autographs allowed." Huh? Am I taking a photo of the wait staff? I wouldn't know a star athlete or celebrity if they jumped on top of me and yelled: "I'm famous!" Although, I did recognize Donald Trump in Atlantic City once. That was it as far as celebrity sightings...oh yeah, and once I saw Juan Epstein from Welcome Back Kotter walking on the sidewalk in California.

I grabbed some fish tacos and waited and waited...he was no where to be seen, so I sat and ate the most amazing fish tacos ever....here in a medical center's cafeteria....I highly recommend the fish tacos. After the MRI, the big kid was not happy that I ate both tacos, but I actually saved him from having to bite into a cold taco. He would not have liked it ;-)

OK, MRI, x-ray, assessment findings are done. We are back in the office, sit in an exam room and wait another two hours. My laptop and his iPod Touch are now on one bar. The magazines are from the year 2010, and we are stuck in a little room with Hope Solo and Cam Newtown's jerseys and autographs. Mick Jagger comes back into the room and takes us to the computer with the biggest screen I have ever seen. He grabs the computer mouse and guides us through the images..."Here is the shoulder, labrum, rotator cuff....blah blah blah blah....damage....not as bad as Dr Number 3 says, bad enough...." What did I hear? Here it goes:

1. There is damage to the rotator cuff. The fact that he continued to throw since the initial damage in October exacerbated the damage (Strike 1 against the university doctors)
2. There is damage to the labrum which probably occurred after the initial damage (strike two university doctors)
3. Slight tendonitis (ball one university doctors)
4. First MRI misread by university doctors (strike three, you're out!)

In other words, this is a serious problem. OK, what to do?

As Mick read Doctor Two's impressions, he was also perplexed that he did not mention the torn rotator cuff as the report read: "no damage to labrum or rotator cuff." OK, now what?

Mick decided that if Doctor Two had an idea or new surgery that could be "99.9999% effective" as he had claimed, then he did not want to do anything because he could not guarantee these figures. But Number Two did not see or acknowledge the rotator cuff and labrum (even I saw the damage). Now what?

Mick decided that he wanted what was best for the big kid and wanted us to go home and see Number Two again. Then he would have a conversation with Number Two (whom he respects) and will decide the best course of events. If Number Two can guarantee this success then Buddy should go to him. if not after seeing the new MRI, then Buddy can decide who to go with....following me?

Mick then gave to me his cell phone number (again) and told me to call him after we met with Number Two. My thought is that we call him together as a conference call, then decide what to do.

What are we left with? I am scratching my head in wonder. Buddy is happy with Mick (me too). Number Two has a major ego. And Number Three is now a non-issue and has been forgiven by me since he got us in to see Mick.

We are back home today and will see Number Two as a family tomorrow. I already left a message with Mick's assistant and told him that we would call late Thursday afternoon. Where am I now? I am settled and breathing and standing upright. It has been an interesting road and the journey is far from over. Before we left the medical center, Buddy went to physical therapy to learn exercises that would strengthen his muscles around the rotator cuff without any more damage. Right now, he is preparing to go back to the gym and continue his rehab.

This kid is going to do whatever he has to do to get back to baseball. The team is struggling mightily without him which has increased his value significantly. They are not losing by one or two games, they are losing by three or four. In other words, they are being spanked by the competition. All my son can do is watch the fall out on the computer and scream. "I want to be there!" OK, pal, the journey is far from over. The hard work is just beginning. Here is my final question: "Is all of this worth it?"

Dr Frankenstein, perhaps?

Ok, I have been mulling over the events of the past two days and I am blessed that I have this blog as an outlet for my personal emotions, thoughts, and feelings. And so, I am about to get really nasty about the 'process' and health care system. Strap on your seat belts, put on your helmet, the ride is going to be bumpy....this post is not for the faint of heart.....

This morning at 4 am, I received a phone call from the big kid who could not sleep, was anxious, had a test at 11 am, and had to drive home. He sounded completely stressed out and nothing that I could say would allay his anxiety. The culmination of the past four months finally got to him and he was beginning to panic. What's a mom to do besides listen and console. I had no words that would help him. All I could do was listen and I don't think that helped much.

How does a kid get to this point in his life? He's at an age where he should be sitting back and enjoying his college years. It's true that I lost sleep in college when I had tests and exams, but I did not have the additional stressors that he has at this point.

Let's start at the beginning when he complained of shoulder pain and his esteemed team doctor treated him as if he had tendonitis. Remember, this is the guy who watched him be knocked down with a line drive that could have killed him and said that he did not have a concussion. That diagnosis took a few seconds. I clearly remember the actress who just fell while skiing who died that night after her fall. This guy was slammed in the head with a sharply hit ball. he could not recall his name, walked crooked, and had ringing in his ear. Diagnosis: no concussion. Treatment: Advil.

The shoulder continued to give him problems and he finally had a MRI. The radiologist and specialist read the x-ray and stated that there were no problems. Just continue to treat for tendonitis. Diagnosis: Tendonitis. Treatment: Advil, physical therapy, stim therapy.

Two days before the Florida trip, his arm was in agony. He could no longer throw. He was literally 'shut down' by the coach. No Florida trip. No pitching. Continue to treat tendonitis. What does BP mom say? "uh...uh...no way...more to this than an inflammation."

A call to one of the best shoulder specialists in the region as suggested by Dr G. He was able to see the big kid in a few days. He was a little guy with little reader glasses on his nose. he walked into the room alone, performed an assessment, read the MRI, and said he needed surgery that would be 99.9999% effective. He performed surgery on top pitchers all over the country. No worries...rehab....back pitching in September. Cool...the only problem was the he could not do the surgery until mid March and the kid has school. Also, the school doctors said that the shoulder was inflamed...now we need another opinion. By the way, when Buddy called the trainer, his first words were:"You're out of the system, the university will not pay for this." Like I give a *&$### or two......

On to the surgeon that is well known in the region and came with many accolades. Trying to get through to him proved to be challenging, but I was up to it. Somehow I got the leftie into the door and shazzammm...his life shattered in a matter of seconds. Dr. Frankenstein followed his entourage into the room, could not download the MRI on his computer, read it, and proclaimed that the rotator cuff was hanging on by a thread....need major reconstructive surgery....will never have made it to the majors anyway...and by the way: "You have a better chance of being struck by lightening." How therapeutic! Terrific....thank pal....great bedside manner....do you also snap the heads off little butterflies for fun?

Whereas, it is true, the kid's chance of making it to the majors is filled with many obstacles, but do not kill off a dream before he is done with college. That's why he is in college, to earn a degree to do something besides baseball...get it? let him have his division 1 dreams and experiences, then if he is good enough for the majors, then it will happen whether Dr Frankenstein predicts it or not. Diagnosis: Rotator cuff tear Treatment: Major reconstructive surgery Prognosis: Grim....Advice: start playing gin rummy.

Once Dr F saw the emotional turmoil that he inflicted, he called a good friend in Florida who is considered the top sports medicine physician in the world.On to our new friend in Florida. He could not have been nicer for a guy who treated Tiger Woods and Derek Jeter. With a quick hello, we are scheduled for an appointment on Monday morning at 9 am and possible surgery on Tuesday. We will be home on Wednesday. Too fast? Perhaps, but remember, we have been going through this process since October and I now know more than ever that the health care system is full of people who don't get it.

Not all doctors and nurses are inept. In fact, I am a proud member of this community, BUT I have never been so disappointed by my peers than these past 6 months. What the heck?! Are you kidding me? If I had acted so ineptly, I would have lost my job. These people are dealing with individuals...a whole person...body, mind, spirit, and emotions. Are you telling me that a shoulder is attached to a doll or a dummy? There is someone there who needs full explanation in kind, compassionate ways...and yes...as honestly as possible. But please, make it humane....Should they say: "Hey, BP mom, you have three months to live, drop everything and sit in your chair and write your will?" or would it be better to approach bad news with "Hey BP mom, perhaps there are a few things that you would like to accomplish, because we see some issues with you tests. It seems that there are some irregularities that need to be addressed. let's talk about how the treatment will affect you." Better? yah, much better.

Now we head to Pensacola on Sunday. I reserved a room on the beach with a view. I can look at it while Buddy sleeps after his surgery. We are now at the point where the rubber hits the road. It's time for action. As I said to Buddy this morning, we are going on an adventure. It reminds me of the old days in Ohio, Virginia, Maryland, Fort Meyers, North Carolina, and West Virginia. We have traveled together as he played baseball and I sat in the stands waiting for him to run to the mound to save the game. Now it is time for me to run to the mound, take a deep breath, and save him. One way or another, don't mess with me, 'cause when it comes to one of my cubs, I lose the sweetness and can take on the Frankensteins, Werewolfs, and bitter tiny health care professionals of this world.

Time to go...I gotta train...mentally prepare....stretch...deep breathe....visualize....pray....

A Third Opinion

Happy Birthday to my little boy who is turning the big 2-0. Yes, the teen years are behind us as we enter into the twenties. Will this decade be as 'fascinating' as the wonder years? I wonder....

OK, I will not keep you guessing. We saw the uber-specialist yesterday and life has not been the same. First, his fellow entered the room, asked a few questions, performed a physical and could not get the MRI report to open on the computer. After a few minutes, the big time doc enters the room with his other fellow and he began a series of tests. He could not open the report either, then I pulled out my laptop, which I strangely had with me, and his jaw dropped.

He began with disagreeing with the first report. Ok, we already knew this. I was waiting to be impressed. Suddenly he sees a "tear" on the MRI that no one else saw. Mind you, four other doctors looked at the actual MRI. "OK, here is what I think...." He proceeded to tell him that he had a tear and that his rotator cuff was hanging on by a thread and he was about to tear completely. By the way, you will be out of baseball for at least a year....and will probably never pitch again. As the big kid broke down into tears, my heart broke for him. Then the doctor said to him "You would never have made the majors anyway."

Huh? What? From an x-ray, he can predict the future? He did not even know my son. The news was devastating, but as he told Buddy that he would not make the majors, Buddy did something pretty impressive although I should not smile at this one....he "F'ed" the doc off. That's my boy. Yeah...you tell 'em kiddo....what the %^#** does this guy know? Less than 1% of little leaguers make it to division 1 baseball. Gotcha....less than 1% of d-1 players make it to the big leagues...gotcha. What makes this pompous doo-doo think that my kid is not going to make it? Huh? I don't know...no one knows, but you don't deliver a blow like that to a kid looking for answers.

It was not a pretty sight and I was peeved. The guy's bedside manner was deplorable. He could probably tell a five year old that she has an hour to live without blinking an eye. His reply was that we came to him for the truth and sometimes it hurts. But, if we want another opinion, there is a guy in Florida who is the best in the world. He is also his personal friend and can call him on his cell phone to get Buddy an appointment. Do we want another opinion with this guy?

What do you think? Of course we do. So, once I got home, I looked him up online and discovered that his credentials were pretty $^(@^^ good. Impressive....then I read an article that the Yankees paid him $200 million for ten years NOT to operate on any major league player besides a Yankee. Hmmmm....that's right...no one else but a Yankee.....he's that good. Amazing...

True to his word, uber-doc called this mega-doc who called me from his cell phone and told me to keep his number in case I needed anything. Yep, that's right....me, lil ole BPM has this big time doc's cell phone number. Yep, I kept it and added it to my contacts. Anyone want it? I'll give it away for a price...perhaps one or two million will suffice.

We leave on Sunday for a Monday morning appointment. Then if the mega-doc feels that he needs the surgery, he will have it on Tuesday in Florida. Yep, me and the kid...in Florida....surgery....it's crazy. I'm crazy. Buddy's crazy. Dad is crazy. We're all nuts, but what else is a parent supposed to do?

I already made the air plane reservations and looked online at the remaining seats on the aircraft. Postoperatively, Buddy would have to sit in the middle on the way home. This would be way uncomfortable since his arm will be in an immobilizer. So, I asked the ticket agent for a bulkhead seat for him. She replied that they are reserved for people in wheelchairs or who are sick. After arguing a few minutes that he would need the room, she asked if his arm would be 'fused"...The answer is yes and no....technically, it will not be fused but he cannot move it so yes, it is fused. Not good enough, so I was transferred to a manager who gave us both bulkhead seats. She did mention that if anyone in a wheelchair or who had a service dog needed the seat, I would have to move. I agreed to this request and will be looking for anyone with a fierce looking dog who may have a fused limb or two and in dire need of a bulkhead seat.

And so, that is where we stand today. With plane tickets ready to take off for Florida. Buddy has emerged from his room and cracked a few smiles. He wrote a letter to the uber doc that he is not going to send for a few years. In the letter, he writes about what happened today in the office, how he made it to the majors, and his plans to send him a signed jersey to remember the day when he almost crushed a guy's dreams. These are definitely Merlot-moments.

The five dollar bus: Does it have wheels?

Another beautiful February day! I want to send two shout outs...one to brother "C" who celebrated his birthday in style on Friday night with pizza, Merlot, and chocolate cake....what a great night...

The second shout out is to my brother in law, Big M who was awarded the alumni "Spirit Award" yesterday at the Communion Breakfast. Here is a guy who has continued to support his alma mater when the rest of us graduated and considered high school just a memory. He kept it a reality. He is on the Board of Directors and can be seen working at the high school at all hours of the day and night. He and big sis met there and have been together since those days (a long time). Even while battling cancer, he could be found at meetings, fund raisers, and games. he never forgot where he came from...truly remarkable and very worthy of the "Spirit"award.

And so, Tink and I had the privilege of celebrating with both of these wonderful guys which is why I have not been blogging. Too much to do and it has kept my mind off the ongoing saga of needing a second opinion.

Not much going on from a medical perspective. I am looking at the bus schedule and trying to hook him up with a bus trip rather than driving 6 hours to provide him with door to door service. With gas prices, those days are ending....and I do mean ending. One car ride round trip to and from campus costs me $80.00 in premium gas. A bus ticket to Philly costs $5.00. Yes, you saw it correctly....$5.00. I don't have to be Donald Trump or Warren Buffet to know which route to choose. Let's consider this....a 5.00 bus ride...how is this possible? Does he sit on the roof? In the trunk? On the floor? Does he stand the entire way down the mountain and turnpike? Does he have to drive it? Wash it? Fill it with gas? Why is this ticket only $5.00?

Who knows why, but the kid is taking the bus...oh shades of high school and elementary school when he took the bus to and from school. Once he earned his driver's license, he felt that it was his right as an American citizen and duty as a student attending a private school to drive like the rest of the rich kids. Guess what? We aren't rich and he was not given a cute little Mercedes or BMW for his 16th....so he continued on the bus until I finally caved in and bought myself a new car. His temperament immediately changed from salty to sweet as can be...Imagine....

Sadly, the team is not doing well without him. They lost all three games in NC this weekend, and definitely could have used his special talents. He is frustrated...the team is frustrated...and the coaches are peeved. Interestingly, he is not the only pitcher who is re-habbing...there are three others....hmmmm...why are these kids going down and overusing their arms to the point where they all needed some form of surgery? I ask you...what could it be? Should their training be scrutinized for appropriateness? Are they training too much or too little? Are the exercises and weight training tailored for pitchers? I don't know, but these questions should be asked as he continues his rehabilitation.

Time for me to go to work. First, I have to meet Scooby and Sparky for lunch....Sparkly has a "friend" that she wants us to meet...nice! Gotta run....Have a good day!

Indifference can make a difference

Good morning! A blustery day in the northeast and I cannot shake the notion that it will eventually snow in May. The bulbs are peeking through the soft ground and are preparing to bloom. I love spring and do not want to lose it for a mild winter.

I would like to thank dad (not!) for purchasing a case of Girl Scout thin mint cookies. Since I was a kid, the mints were my crack. I could eat an entire box in minutes and regret it for the next several weeks as I try to fight off the calories. It's nice that he supports the troops, but please, oh please...do NOT bring them home.

Where are we on the surgical consult? Oh yeah....waiting to hear from the doberman....well, she called and tried to schedule the kid for April. Nice time of the year, flowers, trees, and hay fever....one problem....his surgery is currently scheduled for March 19. So, abruptly, I said 'thanks, but no thanks' and started to thank her for her time, when she asked me to wait for a few more minutes. As she took me off hold, she asked if Buddy could come to the office on Wednesday at noon. "Sure! See you then...." And so, it seems that my indifference was the difference between a February or April appointment. Aye carumba.....

That's where we stand. We have the second opinion this week and will make the final decision on Wednesday afternoon. Meanwhile, the team is currently 1-4 and off to a very bad start. Could it be that they miss my boy? Perhaps....then again, may be not. He had great statistics in his freshman year and was a bit of a spark plug with his plucky personality. So maybe they just miss his presence on the field pushing himself and the other guys to work as hard as they can.

It's all so crazy. What do the people do who just trust the first opinion? If this was the case, we would still be using ice and Motrin. But it is not the case, and the kid will undergo the knife for the first time ever in s few weeks. How will he react to anesthesia and pain? It's going to be very interesting....

Got to go! have a great weekend!

Reality hits hard and it hurts

Ahhh, life is so interesting. One minute a person can be at the top of the world and the next minute articulate "what's the point?" Yeah...that's us...But one thing that I learned in the BP grandparent household is that the measure of a person is not what one does when they win, but what they do when they lose. As someone who has lost metaphorically in a number of ways, I'll explain.

The big leftie had 'the worst week in my life' as he battled strept throat, the loss of his beloved laptop, missed the plane and games in Florida, needs surgery, and will not pitch again officially until September. When baseball is one's identity and it has been taken away, there is a period of mourning which began yesterday morning at 9 am. With labile emotions, he went through the natural ups and downs of this diagnosis.

The ups are the surgery is 99.99999999% effective. The surgeon is quite capable if not arrogant (which I like; I don't want to be friends with my surgeon...just do the work...then go and hit the golf course :-)....OK...the golf course crack was unnecessary).

The downs are that he has to live the next 8 months without the part of his personality that has defined him. He no longer can walk to the mound with his walk-out song, do his usual routine, take a deep breath and throw the ball as hard as he can...strike a few guys out, spit, and run to the dug out and high-5 the guys. Instead, he will have his arm in a sling for 4 weeks as he watches LW take his place...oh, the pain of it.

Let's go to last night's opening game in Florida...generally, we can watch the game on the computer with Game Tracker until the season officially begins, then we use the Internet and CBS Sports. However, Game Tracker was down last night which put the kid into a frenzy. He had it planned. He was going to lock himself in dad's office and watch the game since he was in his game mode. Unfortunately, game Tracker did not work and he had to resort to Twitter, which is unreliable at best. As he read the Twitter feeds, I could hear him screaming about the team losing to a second rate university. Then it "really hit the fan"....LW was sent into the game. This is the point where Buddy would have gone in to save it...instead LW was there in his place....oh boy...if there was a way that I could have quietly left the house for an errand or two, I would have done it, but the kid needed to vent and we were there for him. And so, rather than leave, I watched a weird program on television that I could not turn off (sadly) about an infestation of garter snakes on a property and the family had to declare bankruptcy and abandon the house because the only way to get rid of the snakes was to lift the house off its foundation to clear out the huge den of snakes. I am not sure why I just shared this with you, and really don't understand why I watched it, but Friday night television is pretty boring....

Back to the game....forget about the snakes...Actually, LW did quite well and only gave up one run. But the damage was done to the big kid's psyche....someone else had taken his place. And so the reality of the diagnosis finally hit. I sat with him for a moment and asked if he was 'Okay'...The response was typical...absolutely, I am going to be better than ever and beat it.

That's my boy. He's down, but not out. He sees the issue as something to be overcome and will do so, with grace and style (OK....maybe not style....perhaps not grace either). I'll be there to battle with him as he goes for a second opinion, wears the red shirt, and patiently (not a trait that he has) works through the rehabilitation.

The Road to Rehabilitation

Good morning...it's been an interesting 24 hours. I picked the big kid up at the stadium after the three hour ride, ran a few errands and headed home in an ice storm. An hour into the trip as we drove down the mountain, we realized that we forgot his MRI disk and had to turn around. BP Mama was not happy with her BP son, but she did not remember either...so no blame here. During the drive home, he went through the Kubler Ross's stages of death and dying....denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. He actually hit on the anger phase more than once....it was a tense ride, so to speak.

Once home, his desktop computer was not working and his laptop hard drive blew. Needless to say, we all ran for cover, including Diva dog. Let's just say, "I get it..." His team left for Florida without him, one of their top relievers, a kid who breathes and lives for baseball, someone who wants to play in the pros...He's angry and I get it and got it....

And so, after dinner, we quickly scattered and I left him to his thoughts and a Joe Namath special on HBO. Our 8 am appointment with the specialist could not come fast enough and when it did...oh boy....

Here are the facts...the MRI was read by the specialist. he performed a physical assessment, looked at his frame, asked several questions...and showed us a physical model of what is wrong. His diagnosis is NOT tendonitis, but a worn tendon from poor mechanics. Apparently, he throws across his chest and that had pulled the tendon. Treatment? If you chose surgery, you win a trip for four to Tampa!

Yes, laproscopic surgery will be performed over spring break when he should be in Alabama. Further, he will be in a sling for 4 weeks with physical therapy for four months and back throwing in August. Stunned would be an understatement. Disappointed would be an overstatement. here is BP mom's perspective:

The kid has grown exponentially but his fast ball has been losing velocity. The pain comes with throwing if he does not warm up. He cannot long toss and this has been going on since his senior year in high school. With a bad shoulder, he was still throwing well during winter ball. At this point in his career, he would be hitting 90 mph without breaking a sweat. Furthermore, the team physician and the hospital radiologist misread the MRI and have been treating him for something that he does not have-tendonitis since October.

And now, I feel that all of this is a blessing. The kid has been working hard without seeing results. He has been in pain for quite some time and the surgical procedure according to the doctor is 100% effective. Once he recovers from surgery, he will be working with the top physical therapist in the country who only works with major league pitchers. Ironically, his office in our backyard at the local hospital. I cannot help but feel that this is the plan for him and he will be better than ever. Our next hurdle, however, is to officially red-shirt him.

Red shirt means that he will be on the team and can train and travel with them, not play, retain another year of eligibility, and heal and rehab his shoulder. Now, the plan is to call the coach and meet with him on Monday as a family. Dad insists on one thing...if he stays in college for another year, he is to work on a graduate degree and not just take his time to finish his bachelor's degree.

Now that we have the plan of action, we can implement it. Oy! Who would have thought that it would be so complicated? But....to achieve a lofty goal, a person has to be committed, work hard, and be willing to make great sacrifices. And so we begin the road to rehabilitation.....

Major League Problems

Good Morning....this is a quickie as I wait for Tink to get dressed. We are headed to school and NOT Florida....yes, you read this correctly....college...not the airport where I would have bought a $5.00 bottle of water as I boarded the overcrowded plane on my way to high 70's and sunny weather....nope, I am going to the mountains to pick up my son...Why, you may ask....here is an abridged or cliff notes version of a lengthy story....

As readers know, the big leftie has had tendonitis. The shoulder has been sore for months and we let the team specialists treat him. All is well except, he is not better. yesterday, in his bullpen, he had to stop throwing and was "shut down" by the coach. "Shut down" means he cannot throw any more and is NOT on the plane to Florida. Instead, Dog took his ticket.

I wanted to cry for him and what this means, but I didn't because this is not life or death. This injury can be tended to with the right therapy. I have no doubts that the team doctor absolutely knows what he is doing, but it is time for the second opinion.

The question is now, does he 'red shirt' this season to heal and maintain his eligibility? Or does he rest the shoulder and spin the wheel in the hopes that he heals in a few weeks? By waiting, he might have to forgo eligibility and not have a stellar season but a mediocre one.

We are perplexed and must make a big decision sooner rather than later. once he formally throws a pitch, he loses the opportunity to red shirt. So, what does BP mom do?

I'll tell you...she finds out who the shoulder specialist is for the major league team, the Phillies, and begs him for an appointment...not just begs him, but makes him her world famous chocolate cheesecake and perhaps Paula Deen's Uncle Bob's Apple cake or maybe both.

So, the plan was simple...since he was not going to Florida with the team today, through Dr. G, we found out the name of the doctor. I said a quick prayer and was prepared to literally beg his receptionist for an appointment in the next week. I was going to grovel and send her flowers with a note and perhaps a ten dollar bill. I was going to camp out at the office and offer to wash his car. I had plans...many of them...plan A through F were about to be enacted when I made the phone call to the office.

The receptionist could not be nicer. In fact, she was lovely as she said to me....how about tomorrow morning at 8 am? I was ready to ask her for a closer time than in 2013, when what she had said hit me in the frontal lobe...tomorrow? 8 am? my son? the specialist for the Phillies? Curt Shilling? huh? really? I don't have to make a cheesecake? Heck yeah...wow...yeah...sure, I can get the reports from the college doctor. Sure, I can get into the car and pick the kid up and drive for 6 hours. No sweat...no problem. I was supposed to take a 6 hour flight to Florida. So what if I drive instead? Yeah...OK...time to run...gas up the tank...see you tomorrow...

And so, I am on my way...more tomorrow....