The long road back is beginning in a few weeks and we will see what the big kid is made of....marshmallow or steel.
As he began the process in October, he learned that the body as wonderful as it is, can be fickle. A person has to take care of the machine or suffer consequences as seen with obesity and tooth decay. Returning from an injury for the average person is tough, but for an elite athlete, it can be tougher.
To review, the big leftie had discomfort in the left shoulder that was diagnosed as tendonitis from overuse. An athlete who is being trained by professionals should not develop tendonitis because the trainer is supposed to be watching for strain or technique flaws. Sadly, this was not the case and therefore, the southpaw began to experience pain.
Naturally, he threw through the pain which is not a good idea on any level. Coach T said that he always has pain, but I don't think that Buddy should at his age except for some aches post work out.
And so, he was gradually diagnosed with a capsule and ligament problem and had surgery which so far seems successful. He is still unable to throw, but we are not to be concerned until late summer. The surgeon felt that with the tightening of the ligament, he will add velocity to his fast ball. This is great since I never understood why a guy with his size,training, and work ethic would be losing velocity rather than gaining it. Yet, once the diagnosis was made, it make perfect sense.
The semester is winding down and physical therapy is going to begin. Dad wants to hire a personal trainer to help the kid return to form. As Buddy pointed out during his last visit, his left arm and stomach muscles are not what they had once been. Dang, I have pointed this out on myself for a number of years, but never hired a personal trainer...maybe we can get a two for one deal....although I am not a fan of sit ups, push ups, or squats with Spider-man balls between the knees.
This summer will be eye opening as we watch how dedicated the kid is to getting back to the mound. As his pitching coach pointed out, many guys just throw in the towel after surgery. But he also said that he feels Buddy will be back because of his commitment to the game. Now, if I can only get him to commit to making his bed each morning, cleaning his dirty dishes, walking the dog, closing the house at night, and putting gas in the car, I would name him to the BP mom All Star team.
Have a great day!
Showing posts with label bullpen pitchers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bullpen pitchers. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Breaking up
Good morning! My day off....wow...not sure what to do (NOT!). First, Tink has to leave for school...then...I am going to make plans!
Had 90 minute physical therapy session with "the Tank." Tank is a 20-something and somewhat new to PT business. He has designed a number of painful and torturous yet effective exercises designed to get me back on the court or at least running up and down stairs again. The exercises have these thick rubber bands that are placed on my calves and thighs then I have to squat and hold a ball between my legs. Getting the picture? Ok, BP mom, he says...."Squat there for 10 minutes, and I will be back after my cup of coffee...." Don't go, Tank...who will pick me up after the rubber bands cut off my circulation and I pass out?
And so, the PT is going well and I actually enjoy the exercises except for the squats....and perhaps the rubber Spiderman ball that I have to squeeze with my knees, sit on, and stare at during the sessions. Why Spiderman? Why not Batman or the Hulk? Maybe Tank is super hero fixated....maybe he is really Peter Parker. Same age, same height as PP....who knows. If I see him climbing walls or squirting silk out of his wrist, then I will have uncovered the truth.
Spoke to the big kid yesterday. He is ready to leave campus and come home. This is quite a change for a guy who could not wait to get there last summer. Although the season will continue into May, he has made plans.
Plan A: leave campus after finals and begin to work and rehab the shoulder.
Plan B: Dewey and Meat are to become his rehab buddies whether they know it or not. Once they return from college, the guys will be throwing, catching, running, and working out with him. Perhaps he had better share this plan with them now.
Plan C: He is not going to contact any of his baseball friends until he finishes rehab. His rationale is complicated yet surprisingly thoughtful. He feels that if he speaks to the guys who continue to play baseball, he will be distracted and despondent. Therefore, rather than make himself crazy, he will tell them that he will talk to them in August.
Plan D: Earn money but not buy a car. Interesting...what guy do you know that does not want a car? Does he secretly think that dad is going to cave in and buy one for him? Dream on, big guy....
Plan E: He will text or call California after he is drafted in June. How does he know California is going to be drafted? Well, there were 20 MLB scouts in the stadium on Saturday watching him pitch a gem of a game. He throws consistently in the 90's and is ready to pack his bags and go. What does this mean for next year's house? Well, that requires another plan.....
Yesterday, he met up with his friend who was once Big Red's girlfriend. Apparently, Red does not like living with LW, Angel, and Buddy. He feels that they are slobs, holding him back, and he needs to move out. Red also admitted to his former girl friend that he does not like any of his room mates which surprised Angel and the leftie.
My take on it is....there are people that can be your friend but may not be compatible room mates. Personalities, temperaments, life styles, food preferences, and so on are so different. Just because you have a laugh or two with this person does not mean that you can live in close quarters without wanting to ultimately throw them off the balcony. In fact, the 6 month rule is applicable here too....you have to know a person at least 6 months to ascertain whether you are or are not room mate material. This is a lesson that one learns on their own as a mom sits back and watches.
I could say: "Hey, what's wrong with my kid? Why don't you like him?" But really, I get it. It might or might not be personal. However, its a lesson that life teaches you and not a parent. Good thing they found out at the end rather than the beginning of their living arrangement. So, the four guys are about to break up. I hope that it is peaceful as they divide their apartment belongings and shake hands good by (or not)....Keep in mind, the sofa and kitchen table are my son's...otherwise, the guys can have whatever they want....
Have a great day!
Had 90 minute physical therapy session with "the Tank." Tank is a 20-something and somewhat new to PT business. He has designed a number of painful and torturous yet effective exercises designed to get me back on the court or at least running up and down stairs again. The exercises have these thick rubber bands that are placed on my calves and thighs then I have to squat and hold a ball between my legs. Getting the picture? Ok, BP mom, he says...."Squat there for 10 minutes, and I will be back after my cup of coffee...." Don't go, Tank...who will pick me up after the rubber bands cut off my circulation and I pass out?
And so, the PT is going well and I actually enjoy the exercises except for the squats....and perhaps the rubber Spiderman ball that I have to squeeze with my knees, sit on, and stare at during the sessions. Why Spiderman? Why not Batman or the Hulk? Maybe Tank is super hero fixated....maybe he is really Peter Parker. Same age, same height as PP....who knows. If I see him climbing walls or squirting silk out of his wrist, then I will have uncovered the truth.
Spoke to the big kid yesterday. He is ready to leave campus and come home. This is quite a change for a guy who could not wait to get there last summer. Although the season will continue into May, he has made plans.
Plan A: leave campus after finals and begin to work and rehab the shoulder.
Plan B: Dewey and Meat are to become his rehab buddies whether they know it or not. Once they return from college, the guys will be throwing, catching, running, and working out with him. Perhaps he had better share this plan with them now.
Plan C: He is not going to contact any of his baseball friends until he finishes rehab. His rationale is complicated yet surprisingly thoughtful. He feels that if he speaks to the guys who continue to play baseball, he will be distracted and despondent. Therefore, rather than make himself crazy, he will tell them that he will talk to them in August.
Plan D: Earn money but not buy a car. Interesting...what guy do you know that does not want a car? Does he secretly think that dad is going to cave in and buy one for him? Dream on, big guy....
Plan E: He will text or call California after he is drafted in June. How does he know California is going to be drafted? Well, there were 20 MLB scouts in the stadium on Saturday watching him pitch a gem of a game. He throws consistently in the 90's and is ready to pack his bags and go. What does this mean for next year's house? Well, that requires another plan.....
Yesterday, he met up with his friend who was once Big Red's girlfriend. Apparently, Red does not like living with LW, Angel, and Buddy. He feels that they are slobs, holding him back, and he needs to move out. Red also admitted to his former girl friend that he does not like any of his room mates which surprised Angel and the leftie.
My take on it is....there are people that can be your friend but may not be compatible room mates. Personalities, temperaments, life styles, food preferences, and so on are so different. Just because you have a laugh or two with this person does not mean that you can live in close quarters without wanting to ultimately throw them off the balcony. In fact, the 6 month rule is applicable here too....you have to know a person at least 6 months to ascertain whether you are or are not room mate material. This is a lesson that one learns on their own as a mom sits back and watches.
I could say: "Hey, what's wrong with my kid? Why don't you like him?" But really, I get it. It might or might not be personal. However, its a lesson that life teaches you and not a parent. Good thing they found out at the end rather than the beginning of their living arrangement. So, the four guys are about to break up. I hope that it is peaceful as they divide their apartment belongings and shake hands good by (or not)....Keep in mind, the sofa and kitchen table are my son's...otherwise, the guys can have whatever they want....
Have a great day!
Monday, April 16, 2012
Chimpanzees
Good morning!
I am taking the next few days off from work to recover from the last 6 months. It has been hectic and somewhat overwhelming, so it is time to catch up on some home projects like cleaning out my office. Not exactly restful, but it needs to be done.
Did you see that there is a movie about to hit the US called Chimpanzee? I am a big fan of Jane Goodall's work. In fact, Ice and I attended a program in which she recalled her years in Africa. I give her lots of 'props' as she and her mother moved into Africa and observed the chimps. Yes, I said her 'mother'.....Jane had her mother living in an African tent with her. I guess in my world she would be called "African mom" or "Chimpanzee mother."
Let's reflect on Mummy Goodall's sacrifice to live in the jungle with her 19 year old daughter. Does this parallel my life? Hardly, however, what some mom's will do for their kids.....I will begin....Janie, a young English girl who did not have a college education and lived at home had a passion for animals. "Mum," Jane began..."It's my life passion to live with animals in Africa. Can I go? Pretty please? I am 19 years old and am firm on my future. I need to do this mum....please oh please."
Mrs. Goodall: "Oh honey, you know that Africa is on the other side of the world and I am sure that your tent will not have running water, a shower, or kitchen. In fact, there will be no WIFI or air conditioning. Perhaps a trip to the zoo or a picture book of A to Z Animals would be more appropriate."
Jane, stamping her foot screams: "No, Mummy, I really really want to go!"
Mrs G. "All right Janie, but I am going with you and that's that. By the way, there are no corner stores to buy your double stuffed Oreos"
Jane: "Oh Mum, I heart you!"
And so, the Goodall girls fly or take a boat to Africa and make history in the jungle. Eventually, Jane was sent home to England by her mentor to attend college and complete her doctorate. I am sure she took remedial and advanced courses like Chimpanzee 101 and 102, Tsetse Flies 310, Avoiding Anacondas Practicum, and Sitting in One Place for Nine Hours and Not Moving Seminar 425. As she completed her studies, she went back to Africa without her mum and changed our view of the chimpanzee forever.
Now, that's a cool story. It seems moms will do anything for their children from living in a tent during monsoon season to moving to Ohio for a few months. They want to make sure that their child achieves their dream, their passion, and goals. Further, their happiness is of the utmost importance, which is why there is a drop in available chicken in our region when my big hero returns home. Gotta make that chicken parm.....
A mother's love is something that cannot be measured but visualized in what they do for their children. Early mornings and late nights, travel to and from games, standing on your head to see them laugh, and sharing private embarrassing stories with them so that they know they are not alone when things go wrong. A mom helps to create and picks up the pieces when things are broken (like a window, vacuum cleaner, vase, frame, or heart). It's part of the job description. Right now, I am pretty happy that we did not have to leave the country to watch the chimps, although I am pretty sure that I would have done it too.
And so, I am off to meet Ice and make plans to see Chimpanzee, the Movie. Maybe we can see it in 3D. That would be cool. And as I watch the movie, I will be thinking about the Chimpanzee mothers, Mrs. Goddall, my mother, sisters, and family members, and friends like Ice, who sacrificed day after day to make sure that their children had safe and loving homes.
I am taking the next few days off from work to recover from the last 6 months. It has been hectic and somewhat overwhelming, so it is time to catch up on some home projects like cleaning out my office. Not exactly restful, but it needs to be done.
Did you see that there is a movie about to hit the US called Chimpanzee? I am a big fan of Jane Goodall's work. In fact, Ice and I attended a program in which she recalled her years in Africa. I give her lots of 'props' as she and her mother moved into Africa and observed the chimps. Yes, I said her 'mother'.....Jane had her mother living in an African tent with her. I guess in my world she would be called "African mom" or "Chimpanzee mother."
Let's reflect on Mummy Goodall's sacrifice to live in the jungle with her 19 year old daughter. Does this parallel my life? Hardly, however, what some mom's will do for their kids.....I will begin....Janie, a young English girl who did not have a college education and lived at home had a passion for animals. "Mum," Jane began..."It's my life passion to live with animals in Africa. Can I go? Pretty please? I am 19 years old and am firm on my future. I need to do this mum....please oh please."
Mrs. Goodall: "Oh honey, you know that Africa is on the other side of the world and I am sure that your tent will not have running water, a shower, or kitchen. In fact, there will be no WIFI or air conditioning. Perhaps a trip to the zoo or a picture book of A to Z Animals would be more appropriate."
Jane, stamping her foot screams: "No, Mummy, I really really want to go!"
Mrs G. "All right Janie, but I am going with you and that's that. By the way, there are no corner stores to buy your double stuffed Oreos"
Jane: "Oh Mum, I heart you!"
And so, the Goodall girls fly or take a boat to Africa and make history in the jungle. Eventually, Jane was sent home to England by her mentor to attend college and complete her doctorate. I am sure she took remedial and advanced courses like Chimpanzee 101 and 102, Tsetse Flies 310, Avoiding Anacondas Practicum, and Sitting in One Place for Nine Hours and Not Moving Seminar 425. As she completed her studies, she went back to Africa without her mum and changed our view of the chimpanzee forever.
Now, that's a cool story. It seems moms will do anything for their children from living in a tent during monsoon season to moving to Ohio for a few months. They want to make sure that their child achieves their dream, their passion, and goals. Further, their happiness is of the utmost importance, which is why there is a drop in available chicken in our region when my big hero returns home. Gotta make that chicken parm.....
A mother's love is something that cannot be measured but visualized in what they do for their children. Early mornings and late nights, travel to and from games, standing on your head to see them laugh, and sharing private embarrassing stories with them so that they know they are not alone when things go wrong. A mom helps to create and picks up the pieces when things are broken (like a window, vacuum cleaner, vase, frame, or heart). It's part of the job description. Right now, I am pretty happy that we did not have to leave the country to watch the chimps, although I am pretty sure that I would have done it too.
And so, I am off to meet Ice and make plans to see Chimpanzee, the Movie. Maybe we can see it in 3D. That would be cool. And as I watch the movie, I will be thinking about the Chimpanzee mothers, Mrs. Goddall, my mother, sisters, and family members, and friends like Ice, who sacrificed day after day to make sure that their children had safe and loving homes.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Dealing with dad
Hi! It's another beautiful say in the northeast....I can't wrap my head around why I am wearing shorts today. Perhaps it is global warming....or maybe some other natural phenomenon that scientists cannot explain yet. Nevertheless, I am going to enjoy it while I can.
Not much going on in the baseball world. The team has a home stand and lost last night to a division rival. They have two more games this weekend. The game was broadcasted on television as I sat in the bar with the coworkers celebrating our program's re-accreditation, I could not get the waitress to turn on the game or let me order a fish taco. Once I left the celebration, I watched the game at home and caught multiple 3 second glimpses of Buddy spitting sunflower seeds out of his mouth. Grandmom called and asked if the player spitting leaning against the rail was her grandson. Yep, that was him. He has quite a talent as he can spit seeds from the dugout and hit the first base man in the ear. Perhaps, one day, he can earn money displaying this talent all over the world. He could be billed in the Guinness Book of World Records as "The guy who can catapult sunflower seeds so accurately that they can land on a dime." I don't know about you, but I would pay to see such a feat.
This morning we had a nice chat as he waited for the bus to take him to the field to work out. He is ready to come home in three weeks and will leave the team to continue rehab. The team plays until mid May, but he is anxious to get back to business. So he will leave the sunflower seeds, seed spitting contests, leaning against the fence, wearing his Oakley sunglasses looking like a cool dude, and using salty dugout language to return home to his messy room and unmade bed. When he left on Wednesday, he did not tidy the room, so I sealed it off with duct tape. Perhaps he can access it through the window when he returns for the summer...or not. The point is....do not leave your room messier than it was when you returned home. I do not work for him, and have yet to receive a paycheck for cleaning up after him. I have a new philosophy. Your room, your mess, your responsibility....you can deal with your dad.
And so, it is time for me to jump into the car and watch Little A's softball game. She's the shortstop and apparently the fastest 9 year old on the team. Was there a doubt? Not in my mind.
Enjoy the day!
Not much going on in the baseball world. The team has a home stand and lost last night to a division rival. They have two more games this weekend. The game was broadcasted on television as I sat in the bar with the coworkers celebrating our program's re-accreditation, I could not get the waitress to turn on the game or let me order a fish taco. Once I left the celebration, I watched the game at home and caught multiple 3 second glimpses of Buddy spitting sunflower seeds out of his mouth. Grandmom called and asked if the player spitting leaning against the rail was her grandson. Yep, that was him. He has quite a talent as he can spit seeds from the dugout and hit the first base man in the ear. Perhaps, one day, he can earn money displaying this talent all over the world. He could be billed in the Guinness Book of World Records as "The guy who can catapult sunflower seeds so accurately that they can land on a dime." I don't know about you, but I would pay to see such a feat.
This morning we had a nice chat as he waited for the bus to take him to the field to work out. He is ready to come home in three weeks and will leave the team to continue rehab. The team plays until mid May, but he is anxious to get back to business. So he will leave the sunflower seeds, seed spitting contests, leaning against the fence, wearing his Oakley sunglasses looking like a cool dude, and using salty dugout language to return home to his messy room and unmade bed. When he left on Wednesday, he did not tidy the room, so I sealed it off with duct tape. Perhaps he can access it through the window when he returns for the summer...or not. The point is....do not leave your room messier than it was when you returned home. I do not work for him, and have yet to receive a paycheck for cleaning up after him. I have a new philosophy. Your room, your mess, your responsibility....you can deal with your dad.
And so, it is time for me to jump into the car and watch Little A's softball game. She's the shortstop and apparently the fastest 9 year old on the team. Was there a doubt? Not in my mind.
Enjoy the day!
Friday, April 13, 2012
Fri-Daaay!
Friday! Yeah and yahoo....I don't know how you feel, but today I am burned out...crispy fried....ready for a happy hour....taking a deep breath and here we go!
Buddy was in a great mood yesterday as he shared stories of the dugout and bullpen with me. It seems that while he was in his sling, his assignment was to take new baseballs out to the umpires. A few times, he was told to go away but once he revealed the four baseballs that he could carry in his sling, the umpires learned his name and they had an ongoing conversation. Since the sling is off, he can wear his uniform and run the balls out. Today the game is on television, so he may be on the screen more than the outfielders.
As I congratulated him for having a great job like ball-boy, he was a bit snarky. It seems that he cannot banter and talk to the guys in the dugout since he has to stand behind the coach who until last weekend was always in a bad mood. The tennis coach's ten year old son had the job of picking up the bats and had an eye full as the coach screamed and kicked the gatorade cooler, then used foul language, kicked the equipment,threw bats and balls and started yelling expletives at the guys. Buddy saw the kid cringe in the corner and felt that he may have made a mess in his pants since it was pretty scary.
I never really understood why coaches had to use bad language especially in front of children. Although, my son learned to use curse words correctly in Catholic school while he was on the JV football team. He still uses these words and I caution him to watch his language especially around kids and grandparents. Let's show a little class here, guys.
Ok, so how is the angelic one? Apparently he is still in love AND it seems that he loves her more than baseball. That's right! See what love can do to a guy. He now has life in perspective. I actually knew that he would be the first among the knuckleheads to figure it out. He loves his lady and they are always together, except in the locker room. Although, I must caution him with my six-month rule. What is the six-month rule? Well, based on experience studying this phenomenon, a person does not show their true personality for the first six months of a relationship. After six months....look out! The claws, bitchiness, snarky comments, and bad breath emerge and we wonder, "what did I see in that person"....so don't buy the eternity bands yet....
Gotta run to a meeting....Have a great day!
Buddy was in a great mood yesterday as he shared stories of the dugout and bullpen with me. It seems that while he was in his sling, his assignment was to take new baseballs out to the umpires. A few times, he was told to go away but once he revealed the four baseballs that he could carry in his sling, the umpires learned his name and they had an ongoing conversation. Since the sling is off, he can wear his uniform and run the balls out. Today the game is on television, so he may be on the screen more than the outfielders.
As I congratulated him for having a great job like ball-boy, he was a bit snarky. It seems that he cannot banter and talk to the guys in the dugout since he has to stand behind the coach who until last weekend was always in a bad mood. The tennis coach's ten year old son had the job of picking up the bats and had an eye full as the coach screamed and kicked the gatorade cooler, then used foul language, kicked the equipment,threw bats and balls and started yelling expletives at the guys. Buddy saw the kid cringe in the corner and felt that he may have made a mess in his pants since it was pretty scary.
I never really understood why coaches had to use bad language especially in front of children. Although, my son learned to use curse words correctly in Catholic school while he was on the JV football team. He still uses these words and I caution him to watch his language especially around kids and grandparents. Let's show a little class here, guys.
Ok, so how is the angelic one? Apparently he is still in love AND it seems that he loves her more than baseball. That's right! See what love can do to a guy. He now has life in perspective. I actually knew that he would be the first among the knuckleheads to figure it out. He loves his lady and they are always together, except in the locker room. Although, I must caution him with my six-month rule. What is the six-month rule? Well, based on experience studying this phenomenon, a person does not show their true personality for the first six months of a relationship. After six months....look out! The claws, bitchiness, snarky comments, and bad breath emerge and we wonder, "what did I see in that person"....so don't buy the eternity bands yet....
Gotta run to a meeting....Have a great day!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
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!
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!
Monday, April 2, 2012
Go forth....
Once again, I have been absent from writing. And I apologize. I had to work on Saturday. Sunday was a different story as we celebrated my goddaughter's future child at a baby shower. Buttercup is supposed to give birth to a girl. Everything was pink down to the napkins, decorations, cake, and gift wrapping. Hmmm...she received loads of adorable clothes that I wish that I could wear (even the cute little socks and zebra striped sneakers)....but...the questions remain: what if the ultrasound is wrong? What if she is really having a boy? She now has thousands of dollars worth of girl clothes plus an adorable pink convertible that Big M gave her. Stay tuned....estimated date of arrival is early May.
OK, on to the most wonderful yet grouchy kid in the mountains.... I am less miffed with him since I have had time away from his self-indulgent (yet realistically earned) 'woa-is-me-isms'. Granted, he is not playing baseball this year BUT he has three more years of eligibility to grow and hone his game. He can concentrate on his studies and even earn a master's degree while playing baseball. This is the American dream....no room for sadness or self-doubt. It's time to mature, focus, and start rehab. He has been blessed with the best of all. He has been given the best chance to return to form. he had the best surgeon in the country. He is in one of the best schools in the country. What's the problem?
Message to the big leftie from BP mom:
Son, you have so many things going for you. You have height, great athleticism, and are pretty darn good looking...hey, your hair is one of the "looks" that you started in your school. There is no room for sadness or worry. You have all the tools to return to the team. Your confidence and work ethic have gotten you this far. Pick yourself up by the cleats, dust yourself off, and start the road back to the pitching mound. Furthermore, you have the support of family, friends, and coaches. If anyone can come back better and stronger...it's you. No pity parties....no more "no one understands..."....none of that. Put your head down and keep going. We will be there to support you. I have a safety net that I have used over the years and will continue to pull out until I draw my last breath.
Hang in there. You can do it...make it...be the person that you are destined to be. Go forth and conquer!!!
OK, on to the most wonderful yet grouchy kid in the mountains.... I am less miffed with him since I have had time away from his self-indulgent (yet realistically earned) 'woa-is-me-isms'. Granted, he is not playing baseball this year BUT he has three more years of eligibility to grow and hone his game. He can concentrate on his studies and even earn a master's degree while playing baseball. This is the American dream....no room for sadness or self-doubt. It's time to mature, focus, and start rehab. He has been blessed with the best of all. He has been given the best chance to return to form. he had the best surgeon in the country. He is in one of the best schools in the country. What's the problem?
Message to the big leftie from BP mom:
Son, you have so many things going for you. You have height, great athleticism, and are pretty darn good looking...hey, your hair is one of the "looks" that you started in your school. There is no room for sadness or worry. You have all the tools to return to the team. Your confidence and work ethic have gotten you this far. Pick yourself up by the cleats, dust yourself off, and start the road back to the pitching mound. Furthermore, you have the support of family, friends, and coaches. If anyone can come back better and stronger...it's you. No pity parties....no more "no one understands..."....none of that. Put your head down and keep going. We will be there to support you. I have a safety net that I have used over the years and will continue to pull out until I draw my last breath.
Hang in there. You can do it...make it...be the person that you are destined to be. Go forth and conquer!!!
Friday, March 30, 2012
Just a good ole boy
Ahhh! Sorry that I have not written but I have been WORKING! Yep, work...a little four letter word. I actually love my job, but it can get in the way of things that I like to do during the day. Lately, I have been editing my friend's 300+ page dissertation on black female CEOs in the corporate world. Did you know that there is only 1 black female CEO on the Fortune 500 list? Why, you may ask? I am not going to tell you. Once T successfully defends her research, we are going to convert it to a book, go on the Piers Morgan show, and have Tyler Perry make a movie about this population. Yep, I am thinking B-I-G. Maybe, we'll be invited to the White House....better yet....Oprah...yep...Oprah....
Ok, enough dreaming....what is going on with the big kid? Lots! and not so much....he cannot travel with the team so he has to be content sitting in the bullpen at home games. he still works out his cardio and helps around the dug out and field. other than that, he is on the fringe. And let me tell you, it's a good thing....
Without him, the pitching staff has blown multiple games. The hitters are not hitting. And the coach almost blew an aneurysm. During the last post, I shared with you how he screamed for four hours. The next day, the guys walked into the locker room and everything was missing...the big screen television, ping pong tables, lounge chairs, and sofas. And the WiFi was turned off! Boy, does he mean business. Buddy was not pleased and we had to talk him off the ledge. After all, there is absolutely nothing that he can do to help this year and he feels powerless and a bit snarky.
The team left for Indiana yesterday and three of the Saturday night partiers were left on campus. oops! The next time they schedule a big party, they had better consult with the baseball schedule first. This coach means business. I once thought that he was like a good old boy on The Dukes of Hazzard....those days are gone. He does have quite a temper...yikes.
It's a no-party zone on campus now. I guess that the guys will be in their dorm rooms early this weekend and perhaps doing homework or reading the Bible. After all, they might all be praying for a miracle to turn their season around and return to the coach to his salty former self. Or maybe they can find a genie in a bottle and get three wishes...Oh genie...I wish for a more laid back coach, an arm that can throw 90 mph and the WIFI to be turned back on in the locker room.
Have a great day
Ok, enough dreaming....what is going on with the big kid? Lots! and not so much....he cannot travel with the team so he has to be content sitting in the bullpen at home games. he still works out his cardio and helps around the dug out and field. other than that, he is on the fringe. And let me tell you, it's a good thing....
Without him, the pitching staff has blown multiple games. The hitters are not hitting. And the coach almost blew an aneurysm. During the last post, I shared with you how he screamed for four hours. The next day, the guys walked into the locker room and everything was missing...the big screen television, ping pong tables, lounge chairs, and sofas. And the WiFi was turned off! Boy, does he mean business. Buddy was not pleased and we had to talk him off the ledge. After all, there is absolutely nothing that he can do to help this year and he feels powerless and a bit snarky.
The team left for Indiana yesterday and three of the Saturday night partiers were left on campus. oops! The next time they schedule a big party, they had better consult with the baseball schedule first. This coach means business. I once thought that he was like a good old boy on The Dukes of Hazzard....those days are gone. He does have quite a temper...yikes.
It's a no-party zone on campus now. I guess that the guys will be in their dorm rooms early this weekend and perhaps doing homework or reading the Bible. After all, they might all be praying for a miracle to turn their season around and return to the coach to his salty former self. Or maybe they can find a genie in a bottle and get three wishes...Oh genie...I wish for a more laid back coach, an arm that can throw 90 mph and the WIFI to be turned back on in the locker room.
Have a great day
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Post op day 7!
Yeah! Day seven and the countdown to returning to school begins....T minus 24 hours....
Why am I so happy? The reasons are twofold. First, the surgery and surgical site have healed without signs of infection. Second, he is so bored that he watched the new Muppets movie with me last night which tells the entire world that the kid needs more mental stimulation besides Kermit and Miss Piggy. Actually, the movie was pretty good, but for someone older than him who grew up with Gonzo and Fozzie Bear. There were actually a few laugh out loud moments which for me late at night it is almost impossible to chuckle let alone laugh...
Anyway, the second leg of the journey is coming to an end as the third begins. After the four weeks in an immobilizer, he will begin the slow painful process of returning to play. No throwing until the summer, then he can work out with a coach. Until then, his coach will be his physical therapist, who has been successful in helping Steven Strasburg of the Nationals return to the game.
Tonight, we pack the bags and load the car, then tomorrow after his appointment with Doctor Two, he is off to school after his shower. Normally, I would fill another bag full of food for him to take, however, he has eaten everything in the house. I really mean it...everything...nothing is left. Nothing....He can eat and eat and eat....and then have a snack or two or five.....then ask what is for lunch.
It's true that I will miss having him around but he belongs at school and not here keeping me occupied. He has life goals to attend to which do not include making his mother cringe, laugh, or run to the grocery store. There have been a few times when I have had to tell him to watch his language. God made lots of words, so try to use a more diverse vocabulary besides words that only have four letters. We are not living in a bull pen, so keep the language rated PG.
Thanks to all who have sent prayers, good wishes and thoughts, and ice cream cakes to the house. I know that the prayers were heard, thoughts were felt, and cake was devoured. Enjoy the day!
Why am I so happy? The reasons are twofold. First, the surgery and surgical site have healed without signs of infection. Second, he is so bored that he watched the new Muppets movie with me last night which tells the entire world that the kid needs more mental stimulation besides Kermit and Miss Piggy. Actually, the movie was pretty good, but for someone older than him who grew up with Gonzo and Fozzie Bear. There were actually a few laugh out loud moments which for me late at night it is almost impossible to chuckle let alone laugh...
Anyway, the second leg of the journey is coming to an end as the third begins. After the four weeks in an immobilizer, he will begin the slow painful process of returning to play. No throwing until the summer, then he can work out with a coach. Until then, his coach will be his physical therapist, who has been successful in helping Steven Strasburg of the Nationals return to the game.
Tonight, we pack the bags and load the car, then tomorrow after his appointment with Doctor Two, he is off to school after his shower. Normally, I would fill another bag full of food for him to take, however, he has eaten everything in the house. I really mean it...everything...nothing is left. Nothing....He can eat and eat and eat....and then have a snack or two or five.....then ask what is for lunch.
It's true that I will miss having him around but he belongs at school and not here keeping me occupied. He has life goals to attend to which do not include making his mother cringe, laugh, or run to the grocery store. There have been a few times when I have had to tell him to watch his language. God made lots of words, so try to use a more diverse vocabulary besides words that only have four letters. We are not living in a bull pen, so keep the language rated PG.
Thanks to all who have sent prayers, good wishes and thoughts, and ice cream cakes to the house. I know that the prayers were heard, thoughts were felt, and cake was devoured. Enjoy the day!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Post op day 3 and 4
What an amazing day in the northeast! Happy St Patty's Day. I drove through our college town and partiers are out and about....It's a good day for a pub crawl....
How is our hero doing today? Well, he is a bit salty and short tempered and unwilling to leave the house. Odd? Yep. I tried to bribe him with heading to Sparky's bakery to no avail. Then I toyed with the idea of taking him to buy new shirts that would easily slide over his sling. Nope...he didn't bite. Then I flat out told him to leave my bedroom and find somewhere else to nest. He has all but moved in and the time is coming when mama bird has to nudge or shove her baby out of the nest. I think that he is enjoying the luxury of sleeping in the comfortable chairs and having the remote control to a flat screen television at his disposal. Did I spoil him with my nurturing? Perhaps....
Actually, he is still uncomfortable and has not had a shower since Wednesday morning. I guess that I would not want to leave the house either. Although I did wash his hair in the sink, he did not leave a tip for me as he took his wet hair and towel and returned to his chair.
And so, the saga continues and so does the process of healing. How is the team doing without him? Sadly, they have a losing record and desperately miss the leftie. Yesterday the team was winning 5-1 at the bottom of the 9th with two outs and somehow the pitching lost it. So, when I say that they miss him, I really mean it. The record of the team speaks for itself and so does the team's inability to close a game without him.
Which leads me to another thought....he generally does not feel secure on the team. The coaches do not provide a great deal of feedback and he always feels like he does not really have a position. Last year, they made the tournament for the first time in years. The pitching staff had the lowest ERA in the conference. This year, they have lost so many games and the ERAs are sky high. This makes me believe that his presence last year was a positive one for the team despite him not knowing it. Does that make sense? it took an injury to realize how valuable he was in and out of the bullpen.
Therefore, I submit that he is an asset to the team and a reason for their success. Hmmmm...this is so different from the year in which he would sit in the bullpen and not understand his value. Do I blame the coaches? Naw...they do not have that warm and fuzzy gene and have been hit in the head too many times with fast balls and line drives. In other words, they are salty and seasoned ball players who do not share feelings and emotions unless they are really peeved about a loss. Guys just have to figure out on their own where they stand and be satisfied with it. I get it. But players like Buddy might look ferocious on the pitcher's mound, but he is full of mixed emotions as he tries to peel the layers off of the team's dynamics. The coaches don't care, they just want to the kid to perform. Let the team psychologist work out their emotions and the coaches tinker with the kid's motivation and mechanics. OR maybe this is their way to motivate the player. Never tell them where they stand and leave them in the Land of Ambiguity where it is up to their personal logic to develop a philosophy on and off the ball field. Too much? Perhaps I am over thinking this phenomenon and should leave it alone.
OK, will do. And so, it is Sunday morning and my patient is healing. The doctor felt that he could return to school tomorrow and originally he wanted to do it. UNTIL...the pain came and his brain's cylinders began to fire again. Let's consider his family home versus his apartment.
Family home: All the food a kid could eat, his Grandmom's homemade ice cream cake, water, comfort, clean towels and environment, a healing dog to keep him company, privacy, assistance, and a HD 52" plasma tv with cable and movies.
Apartment: LW, filth, dirt, no food, no help, chaos, and fighting...walking to class with a sling...catching the bus....sitting in class for hours on end.
Where would you want to heal?
have a great day!
How is our hero doing today? Well, he is a bit salty and short tempered and unwilling to leave the house. Odd? Yep. I tried to bribe him with heading to Sparky's bakery to no avail. Then I toyed with the idea of taking him to buy new shirts that would easily slide over his sling. Nope...he didn't bite. Then I flat out told him to leave my bedroom and find somewhere else to nest. He has all but moved in and the time is coming when mama bird has to nudge or shove her baby out of the nest. I think that he is enjoying the luxury of sleeping in the comfortable chairs and having the remote control to a flat screen television at his disposal. Did I spoil him with my nurturing? Perhaps....
Actually, he is still uncomfortable and has not had a shower since Wednesday morning. I guess that I would not want to leave the house either. Although I did wash his hair in the sink, he did not leave a tip for me as he took his wet hair and towel and returned to his chair.
And so, the saga continues and so does the process of healing. How is the team doing without him? Sadly, they have a losing record and desperately miss the leftie. Yesterday the team was winning 5-1 at the bottom of the 9th with two outs and somehow the pitching lost it. So, when I say that they miss him, I really mean it. The record of the team speaks for itself and so does the team's inability to close a game without him.
Which leads me to another thought....he generally does not feel secure on the team. The coaches do not provide a great deal of feedback and he always feels like he does not really have a position. Last year, they made the tournament for the first time in years. The pitching staff had the lowest ERA in the conference. This year, they have lost so many games and the ERAs are sky high. This makes me believe that his presence last year was a positive one for the team despite him not knowing it. Does that make sense? it took an injury to realize how valuable he was in and out of the bullpen.
Therefore, I submit that he is an asset to the team and a reason for their success. Hmmmm...this is so different from the year in which he would sit in the bullpen and not understand his value. Do I blame the coaches? Naw...they do not have that warm and fuzzy gene and have been hit in the head too many times with fast balls and line drives. In other words, they are salty and seasoned ball players who do not share feelings and emotions unless they are really peeved about a loss. Guys just have to figure out on their own where they stand and be satisfied with it. I get it. But players like Buddy might look ferocious on the pitcher's mound, but he is full of mixed emotions as he tries to peel the layers off of the team's dynamics. The coaches don't care, they just want to the kid to perform. Let the team psychologist work out their emotions and the coaches tinker with the kid's motivation and mechanics. OR maybe this is their way to motivate the player. Never tell them where they stand and leave them in the Land of Ambiguity where it is up to their personal logic to develop a philosophy on and off the ball field. Too much? Perhaps I am over thinking this phenomenon and should leave it alone.
OK, will do. And so, it is Sunday morning and my patient is healing. The doctor felt that he could return to school tomorrow and originally he wanted to do it. UNTIL...the pain came and his brain's cylinders began to fire again. Let's consider his family home versus his apartment.
Family home: All the food a kid could eat, his Grandmom's homemade ice cream cake, water, comfort, clean towels and environment, a healing dog to keep him company, privacy, assistance, and a HD 52" plasma tv with cable and movies.
Apartment: LW, filth, dirt, no food, no help, chaos, and fighting...walking to class with a sling...catching the bus....sitting in class for hours on end.
Where would you want to heal?
have a great day!
Friday, March 16, 2012
post op day 2
This entry comes late in the day as my life and organization has been uprooted by one very big kid with his shoulder in a sling. Yeah, yeah, yeah...I get it, it hurts, but OY! Is he needy!
With that said, here are the facts. Although the surgery was an arthoscopic procedure, there was work done in his body to repair damage. He cannot lie down. He cannot move his left arm. His shoulder and back hurts and therefore he is cranky. If he is cranky, then I am cranky. Then his bone headed dad gave him the advice to start to wean himself off his pain medication. Needless to say, this advice was somewhat....ahhh....premature....that's it....premature.
Therefore, the discomfort turned into acute pain and he is miserable.
Memo
To: The whole world
From: BPM
Re: Postoperative Pain Relief
Do not, under any circumstance, listen to someone about pain management after surgery if they have no clue about what they are talking about.
That's my postop tip of the day....
With that said, here are the facts. Although the surgery was an arthoscopic procedure, there was work done in his body to repair damage. He cannot lie down. He cannot move his left arm. His shoulder and back hurts and therefore he is cranky. If he is cranky, then I am cranky. Then his bone headed dad gave him the advice to start to wean himself off his pain medication. Needless to say, this advice was somewhat....ahhh....premature....that's it....premature.
Therefore, the discomfort turned into acute pain and he is miserable.
Memo
To: The whole world
From: BPM
Re: Postoperative Pain Relief
Do not, under any circumstance, listen to someone about pain management after surgery if they have no clue about what they are talking about.
That's my postop tip of the day....
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Crunch time
It's crunch time! Forgive me for not posting for the past few days, but I have been preoccupied with a number of big issues. Let's start and finish with the big kid.
Doctor Number Two finally convinced us that he is da' Man for the surgery and therefore, we consented. It was time to move on it after too many dormant months. And so, today is the day.
Buddy left for school on Sunday in the hopes of speaking to each professor and make plans for his absences. Most of them seemed to understand. Upon arrival home yesterday, we went to the doctor's office for the pre operative testing. We waited 90 minutes in the lobby to see the surgeon for about 60 seconds. I am now going to develop some sort of game for people who are in doctor's waiting rooms. Perhaps "I spy with my eye....something....surgical.....beige....old....
uncomfortable.....impatient...." Who knows, maybe I can make a zillion dollars off this idea.
All went well in our 60 second meeting until the leftie actually processed the information..."Wait a second....I have to sleep in a chair for one week? Can't take a shower for one week? Can't move my arm for one month? Can't eat after midnight for 24 hours? No gum? No water? WHAT!!! What about my hair???" That's right, it's all about the hair.
Then I processed the information....."Wait a second....he sleeps in a chair all week...what about going back to school? Gotta wash his hair in the sink....needs medication....some kind of ice pump....band aids on the suture site.....can't get wet...look for infection.....can't move the arm...grumpy....not going back to school for 8 days....salty...going to be painful....OY!"
All in all, it is going to be fine. he can sleep in the overstuffed chairs in my bedroom and call me if he needs me. He is concerned that he will have to listen to his dad snore....Dude...a person can get used to it.....besides, you'll be medicated...
My plan is that once he is settled, I will run to the grocery store and empty the shelves. After all, he is going to be home for 8 days...long days...nights too....lots of food....the kid can eat...last night before midnight, he had a very big snack or maybe it was a nine course meal...whatever, he is going to need his favorite 'mom foods'. Planning is key to the success of this venture, so I am making several lists to make sure that I cover the bases....peanut butter, bagels, Oreos, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, a cheesecake cake from the Baker, burgers, chicken, cheese...Merlot...vodka....cranberry juice.....grapefruit juice...ice....
Doctor Number Two finally convinced us that he is da' Man for the surgery and therefore, we consented. It was time to move on it after too many dormant months. And so, today is the day.
Buddy left for school on Sunday in the hopes of speaking to each professor and make plans for his absences. Most of them seemed to understand. Upon arrival home yesterday, we went to the doctor's office for the pre operative testing. We waited 90 minutes in the lobby to see the surgeon for about 60 seconds. I am now going to develop some sort of game for people who are in doctor's waiting rooms. Perhaps "I spy with my eye....something....surgical.....beige....old....
uncomfortable.....impatient...." Who knows, maybe I can make a zillion dollars off this idea.
All went well in our 60 second meeting until the leftie actually processed the information..."Wait a second....I have to sleep in a chair for one week? Can't take a shower for one week? Can't move my arm for one month? Can't eat after midnight for 24 hours? No gum? No water? WHAT!!! What about my hair???" That's right, it's all about the hair.
Then I processed the information....."Wait a second....he sleeps in a chair all week...what about going back to school? Gotta wash his hair in the sink....needs medication....some kind of ice pump....band aids on the suture site.....can't get wet...look for infection.....can't move the arm...grumpy....not going back to school for 8 days....salty...going to be painful....OY!"
All in all, it is going to be fine. he can sleep in the overstuffed chairs in my bedroom and call me if he needs me. He is concerned that he will have to listen to his dad snore....Dude...a person can get used to it.....besides, you'll be medicated...
My plan is that once he is settled, I will run to the grocery store and empty the shelves. After all, he is going to be home for 8 days...long days...nights too....lots of food....the kid can eat...last night before midnight, he had a very big snack or maybe it was a nine course meal...whatever, he is going to need his favorite 'mom foods'. Planning is key to the success of this venture, so I am making several lists to make sure that I cover the bases....peanut butter, bagels, Oreos, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, a cheesecake cake from the Baker, burgers, chicken, cheese...Merlot...vodka....cranberry juice.....grapefruit juice...ice....
Friday, March 9, 2012
Ball of confusion
Remember the Temptations song, Ball of Confusion? Some of the lyrics are:
Oh, Great Googamooga,
Can't you hear me talking to you,
Just a ball of confusion,
That's what the world is today, hey.
Now, I am not sure who or what Googamooga is, but it's a great word. And yes, our world is still a ball of confusion. Ready for an update? Here goes:
We went back to Doctor Two yesterday. Remember him? He was the 99.9999% guarantee that the big kid will be pitching by September. To summarize: Doctor One is still treating tendonitis with a torn rotator cuff. Doctor Three has the kid speeding up his college degree because baseball is completely out of the picture. And Doctor Four resides in Florida and does not want to cross Number Two for some reason.
Doctor Two has an ego bigger than the Grand Canyon BUT I don't want to party with him (unless he picks up the tab). My goal is to find the right guy who has the right diagnosis whether it is baseball or no more baseball. I don't care. I want an accurate diagnosis...is this too much to ask physicians who have Ivy League educations? Come on people...you have the state of the art equipment, brilliant minds, and tools that can save careers. What is the problem?
It seems that there is no problem. In fact, Doctor Two again reiterated that he knows what to do and will speak to Number Four and call me today. If I were to guess, the big kid is going to have surgery on March 19 with Doctor Two. However, I have been wrong before and will continue to make mistakes until I take my last breath. Yet, this decision has to be accurate.
Why? Well, I saw what Doctor Three did to the kid. He was not ready to hear that his playing days were over. However, if he can no longer pitch, then it is time to make new personal goals.
Currently, I am waiting for the phone call from Two then will touch base with Four. Confused? Perhaps....that's what the world is today, hey hey
Oh, Great Googamooga,
Can't you hear me talking to you,
Just a ball of confusion,
That's what the world is today, hey.
Now, I am not sure who or what Googamooga is, but it's a great word. And yes, our world is still a ball of confusion. Ready for an update? Here goes:
We went back to Doctor Two yesterday. Remember him? He was the 99.9999% guarantee that the big kid will be pitching by September. To summarize: Doctor One is still treating tendonitis with a torn rotator cuff. Doctor Three has the kid speeding up his college degree because baseball is completely out of the picture. And Doctor Four resides in Florida and does not want to cross Number Two for some reason.
Doctor Two has an ego bigger than the Grand Canyon BUT I don't want to party with him (unless he picks up the tab). My goal is to find the right guy who has the right diagnosis whether it is baseball or no more baseball. I don't care. I want an accurate diagnosis...is this too much to ask physicians who have Ivy League educations? Come on people...you have the state of the art equipment, brilliant minds, and tools that can save careers. What is the problem?
It seems that there is no problem. In fact, Doctor Two again reiterated that he knows what to do and will speak to Number Four and call me today. If I were to guess, the big kid is going to have surgery on March 19 with Doctor Two. However, I have been wrong before and will continue to make mistakes until I take my last breath. Yet, this decision has to be accurate.
Why? Well, I saw what Doctor Three did to the kid. He was not ready to hear that his playing days were over. However, if he can no longer pitch, then it is time to make new personal goals.
Currently, I am waiting for the phone call from Two then will touch base with Four. Confused? Perhaps....that's what the world is today, hey hey
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
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?"
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?"
Friday, March 2, 2012
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....
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....
Thursday, March 1, 2012
A change of heart
Happy birthday to my big boy! Twenty years ago, he was welcomed into the world and has been an important part of our lives. He's sensitive, kind, intense, brutally honest, funny, and a decent human being. That's why when he was told that he stood a better chance of being hit by lightening than making he major leagues, I felt my heart bleed for him. What doctor does something like that? Oy, such deplorable bedside manner. Uncle G is never going to refer a patient to him again. He also used a few expletives when I told him what had transpired. Actually, I think one slipped out of my mouth too...oops!
Yesterday was challenging, but the only thing that made him smile was seeing the amazing birthday cake that Sparky and the Baker had made. By hand, the Baker decorated the cake in the university's colors with the face of the mascot done perfectly. It was amazing. Genius...pure confectionery genius! Thanks to Sparky and Baker. You have no idea that your cake actually caused him for a moment not to think of his troubles.
Today, Buddy returned to school for the last two days of classes before spring break. Before class, he ran to the Medical Center to obtain another MRI disc...just in case the one that the doctor read yesterday was someone else's images. As he walked through the front door, feeling really bad about himself and in a very salty mood, he saw something that turned him around immediately. Sitting in the lobby in a wheelchair was a young war veteran who did not have arms or legs. As I type that sentence, I am humbled and look at life with a crisper lens. That young man is a hero, we are just experiencing a speed bump in the road of life. No complaints, just moving on....
And so, I am going to check the weather for Pensacola for next week, find a hotel, rent a car, and pack my bag. We leave on Sunday and return home on Wednesday. That's we were are at this point in time. The kid is celebrating his birthday with his pals as the team prepares for the long road trip to the south for 10 days without him. No one ever said that life was fair...just ask the young man in the wheelchair.
Yesterday was challenging, but the only thing that made him smile was seeing the amazing birthday cake that Sparky and the Baker had made. By hand, the Baker decorated the cake in the university's colors with the face of the mascot done perfectly. It was amazing. Genius...pure confectionery genius! Thanks to Sparky and Baker. You have no idea that your cake actually caused him for a moment not to think of his troubles.
Today, Buddy returned to school for the last two days of classes before spring break. Before class, he ran to the Medical Center to obtain another MRI disc...just in case the one that the doctor read yesterday was someone else's images. As he walked through the front door, feeling really bad about himself and in a very salty mood, he saw something that turned him around immediately. Sitting in the lobby in a wheelchair was a young war veteran who did not have arms or legs. As I type that sentence, I am humbled and look at life with a crisper lens. That young man is a hero, we are just experiencing a speed bump in the road of life. No complaints, just moving on....
And so, I am going to check the weather for Pensacola for next week, find a hotel, rent a car, and pack my bag. We leave on Sunday and return home on Wednesday. That's we were are at this point in time. The kid is celebrating his birthday with his pals as the team prepares for the long road trip to the south for 10 days without him. No one ever said that life was fair...just ask the young man in the wheelchair.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
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.
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 second opinion
Yes, the bus did have wheels, tires, and seats. Tink and I picked the big leftie up in Philly at 1 am. Was it creepy? Naw, although you would not believe how many people are out or working at that time of the day. It was almost like a party. Almost....not really.
As he jumped into the car, I asked if he got any sleep on the bus. His reply was that he never ever sleeps on a bus because he either does not want to be robbed or have someone draw a mustache on his face with a Sharpie...paranoid perhaps...or just a good solid philosophy?
Today marks two big events. Event one is the second opinion. I have the opportunity to meet the doberman administrative assistant who would not let us through the door without the magic pixie dust. I finally found the right words to garner the appointment by saying to her: "Just forget it." Immediately the doors swung open and we were given access to the great and powerful uber-surgeon. After this appointment, we will know which direction that we are going to take with the surgery or rehab. Strap on your seat belt, we are about to hit 90 miles an hour.
The second event happened twenty years ago, when after eating at a Mexican restaurant in Newark Delaware, I went into labor. Was it the big dinner or the big kid? It took 24 hours before we actually knew. He came close to celebrating his birthday on February 29th, but decided he would start the life long torture of his mother at that point and entered the world the next day. Did I say that he was a big kid? The doctor stated that his feet were the biggest that he had seen in years. And so it goes...nothing changes. The feet are still big and he finds new ways to torture me on a daily basis.
Actually, I am kidding. He is the greatest guy and I am blessed to call him my son. He and his sister have made my life into an event. I never know what is going to happen and therefore rarely go to the movies since real-life does not compare to fiction.
We have been blessed with a very interesting life and I am grateful. Sure there are days when I sit on floor and aimlessly stare into space. Then there are other days when I can see the reasons for the turmoil and am grateful that we currently have the tools to fix them. For example, dad heard that Buddy would need to sleep in a lounge chair for the first few weeks since he will not be able to lie down. Guess what? We have an old lounge chair in the basement that would match the decor in their college apartment. You know the look...a ripped plaid chair that is semi broken would seamlessly look wonderful in the corner of the apartment next to Irene, the plastic blow up doll that has a hole in it. She is currently awaiting reconstructive surgery so that she can be inflated again. Sadly, she does not have insurance and therefore has to wait until the surgical resident can see her.
Back to Buddy...after the appointment, we are going to celebrate his birthday in style with chicken Parmesan and chocolate cake from Sparky's friend's bakery. Then he goes back to college to take a test and will returns home on Friday night for spring break. In the meantime, I am going to check out the basement chair to make sure that it can be moved to his apartment, perhaps clean it with something (not sure what...), and consider what I should get for him for his birthday....a new shoulder perhaps?
Have a great day!
As he jumped into the car, I asked if he got any sleep on the bus. His reply was that he never ever sleeps on a bus because he either does not want to be robbed or have someone draw a mustache on his face with a Sharpie...paranoid perhaps...or just a good solid philosophy?
Today marks two big events. Event one is the second opinion. I have the opportunity to meet the doberman administrative assistant who would not let us through the door without the magic pixie dust. I finally found the right words to garner the appointment by saying to her: "Just forget it." Immediately the doors swung open and we were given access to the great and powerful uber-surgeon. After this appointment, we will know which direction that we are going to take with the surgery or rehab. Strap on your seat belt, we are about to hit 90 miles an hour.
The second event happened twenty years ago, when after eating at a Mexican restaurant in Newark Delaware, I went into labor. Was it the big dinner or the big kid? It took 24 hours before we actually knew. He came close to celebrating his birthday on February 29th, but decided he would start the life long torture of his mother at that point and entered the world the next day. Did I say that he was a big kid? The doctor stated that his feet were the biggest that he had seen in years. And so it goes...nothing changes. The feet are still big and he finds new ways to torture me on a daily basis.
Actually, I am kidding. He is the greatest guy and I am blessed to call him my son. He and his sister have made my life into an event. I never know what is going to happen and therefore rarely go to the movies since real-life does not compare to fiction.
We have been blessed with a very interesting life and I am grateful. Sure there are days when I sit on floor and aimlessly stare into space. Then there are other days when I can see the reasons for the turmoil and am grateful that we currently have the tools to fix them. For example, dad heard that Buddy would need to sleep in a lounge chair for the first few weeks since he will not be able to lie down. Guess what? We have an old lounge chair in the basement that would match the decor in their college apartment. You know the look...a ripped plaid chair that is semi broken would seamlessly look wonderful in the corner of the apartment next to Irene, the plastic blow up doll that has a hole in it. She is currently awaiting reconstructive surgery so that she can be inflated again. Sadly, she does not have insurance and therefore has to wait until the surgical resident can see her.
Back to Buddy...after the appointment, we are going to celebrate his birthday in style with chicken Parmesan and chocolate cake from Sparky's friend's bakery. Then he goes back to college to take a test and will returns home on Friday night for spring break. In the meantime, I am going to check out the basement chair to make sure that it can be moved to his apartment, perhaps clean it with something (not sure what...), and consider what I should get for him for his birthday....a new shoulder perhaps?
Have a great day!
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