Really I am so thankful that we have modern medicine with tests like a mammogram. So many women have found an early cancer that way and their lives were saved. However, I DREAD and HATE having that annual smashing event. In fact, in my case, it isn't quite annual since I usually take a little additional time to psych myself into it. This year I was due for the mammogram in July, and I am having it next week. Not too bad! Usually I start worrying the month it is due, then wonder if I am hearing more about breast cancer- and if that is a warning from above- then I put a note to myself every day to make the appointment, and finally I do it. I have a week or so to really get worried after making the appointment which requires me to do a breast check every day, several times a day.
This year I am trying a new place for the mammogram. I told my doctor that I couldn't stand being in there for hours, so he is sending me to a more private place in Cool Springs, fortunately associated with Vanderbilt. Yesterday, I went to pick up my previous mammograms from Baptist Hosp. It is upsetting me seeing that big green envelope sitting on my desk. I wouldn't open it for anything.
Here is why I hate getting a mammogram other than the worrying part of possibly having something wrong.
First of all, you have to take off your bra and top, then put on a hospital gown- tied in front. This means you have to clutch it closed all the time. The ties are at least a foot apart. You are also required to remove your deoderant so that the metallic salts (aluminum) won't interfere with the test. So, you sweat and feel like maybe you could be getting stinky.
Next you go into a room of women just like you all clutching their gowns and looking terrified. One by one names are called and off they go. Finally, it is your turn. A new indignity! They tape BBs to your nipples to "identify" them. The technician then proceeds to place you in impossible positions and smashing your breasts WAY flatter than you thought humanly possible. It strongly resembles some form of torture.
The following step is that you go into another room (BBs intact) to wait and see if you need more tests. Everyone knows that if you get called back again that it is bad news. Sure the tech may say it was fuzzy or something, but still that is not good. Finally, finally, you are released to spray on my deoderant, remove your BBs, and dress. Now all you have to do is wait for some radiologist to finally get around to looking at your mammogram, send a report to your doctor, and then have him or her mail an all clear, or God forbid, call you with bad news.
I'll do it, but I think there should be a better way.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Bella and the salmon run
It seemed like such a nice morning for a walk to the salmon stream. Here at Minter Creek the salmon are running, and we decided to take a walk to the creek to look at the fish making their way up the stream to breed and die. I watched from the bridge for a minute and then decided to take the path to the creek for a closer view. Big Mistake!!!!! Bella the mighty huntress escaped, dragging me into the muddy creek, while she jumped wildly among the big salmon. Then, she snatched one up, and shook it. Bella's collar was off, and she was WILD. She had that salmon and was not letting go. Finally, I managed to grab her by the tail and put her collar back on. Poor salmon- it was at death's door. In order to get Bella back up the hill and to the road, I had to push her muddy butt, beat the hell out of her (NOT my normal activity) and pull her up. It was so hard that I was panting and on the verge of tears. Remember that Bella weighs almost 100 pounds- not much less than me, and she is much stronger. Finally, finally I got her to the road, and had to walk back to the rental house covered with mud- and was wearing a skirt.
Once I got Bella back I knew that she would realize what that splashing in the creek behind the deck was. It was those fish! Those wonderful fish that are so much fun to catch. I told Jon what had happened and said that he needed to watch her while I went in. Two minutes later I came out, and there was Bella- down in the muddy creek wildly chasing salmon. Jon went down and finally got Bella, then rigged up a harness to keep her on the deck. In the past Bella has killed a fawn, raccoon, squirrel, rabbit, vole, mouse, mole, and now a fish. She had to feed herself and her puppies before I rescued Bella. She was abused and pathetic, so I can't fault her survival instincts.
Now we are in Seattle spending the night with Rob and Amelia. We ate Salmon for supper. It was good, but I kept thinking of that poor fish in the stream.
Once I got Bella back I knew that she would realize what that splashing in the creek behind the deck was. It was those fish! Those wonderful fish that are so much fun to catch. I told Jon what had happened and said that he needed to watch her while I went in. Two minutes later I came out, and there was Bella- down in the muddy creek wildly chasing salmon. Jon went down and finally got Bella, then rigged up a harness to keep her on the deck. In the past Bella has killed a fawn, raccoon, squirrel, rabbit, vole, mouse, mole, and now a fish. She had to feed herself and her puppies before I rescued Bella. She was abused and pathetic, so I can't fault her survival instincts.
Now we are in Seattle spending the night with Rob and Amelia. We ate Salmon for supper. It was good, but I kept thinking of that poor fish in the stream.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Driving from Nashville to Seattle
Let's just say first of all- Thank God for antidepressants. We drove with a hundred pound dog from Nashville to Seattle, and made it. Secondly, What do they do with all that corn in Nebraska? Miles upon miles upon miles of corn. We have a diesel car, but never got to try biodiesel. Maybe on the way back.
I hear that it was over 100 degrees in Nashville, but it has been COLD here. This morning was 58 degrees. It reminds me of the quote from Mark Twain, "The coldest winter that I ever spent was the summer in San Francisco." We rented a house sight unseen on Minter Creek. It is a long way from anywhere, although it is ostensibly in Gig Harbor. The house is on a tidal creek which is full of birds, salmon, and other creatures, but most of the time it looks like a mud flat. Also the house is dark as Egypt (a southern saying referring to calling outhouses Egypt.) One of the first things that I did was to go buy new bright light bulbs. They were PC with the compact flourescents. To hell with PC. I've got to see to pluck my chin hairs.
I'm sure everyone wonders if I got in knock down drag out fights with my husband. A few minor skirmishes, but no major battles. It has been nice to see my son and his wife. Another downside to this house is that my cell phone has no reception. The wifi also does not work. At one point, feeling rather cranky, I said that I may as well be in a tent in Alaska. Not quite, but close.
In addition, I have been trying to calm down about not talking to my daughter 15 times a day. I suppose this is all good for me. I do hope that all my muscles don't atrophy in this month. What if I can never swim a mile again. What if my butt gets bigger? To illustrate how plebeian I am, while my son and husband were sea kayaking, I went to the local Target for fun, then the grocery to admire wine sold actually in a grocery, and then to the fruit stand. Does this make me really boring, or easily satisfied? I bought some magazines and papers for my reading enjoyment too.
Here's hoping that I don't crack anytime soon.
I hear that it was over 100 degrees in Nashville, but it has been COLD here. This morning was 58 degrees. It reminds me of the quote from Mark Twain, "The coldest winter that I ever spent was the summer in San Francisco." We rented a house sight unseen on Minter Creek. It is a long way from anywhere, although it is ostensibly in Gig Harbor. The house is on a tidal creek which is full of birds, salmon, and other creatures, but most of the time it looks like a mud flat. Also the house is dark as Egypt (a southern saying referring to calling outhouses Egypt.) One of the first things that I did was to go buy new bright light bulbs. They were PC with the compact flourescents. To hell with PC. I've got to see to pluck my chin hairs.
I'm sure everyone wonders if I got in knock down drag out fights with my husband. A few minor skirmishes, but no major battles. It has been nice to see my son and his wife. Another downside to this house is that my cell phone has no reception. The wifi also does not work. At one point, feeling rather cranky, I said that I may as well be in a tent in Alaska. Not quite, but close.
In addition, I have been trying to calm down about not talking to my daughter 15 times a day. I suppose this is all good for me. I do hope that all my muscles don't atrophy in this month. What if I can never swim a mile again. What if my butt gets bigger? To illustrate how plebeian I am, while my son and husband were sea kayaking, I went to the local Target for fun, then the grocery to admire wine sold actually in a grocery, and then to the fruit stand. Does this make me really boring, or easily satisfied? I bought some magazines and papers for my reading enjoyment too.
Here's hoping that I don't crack anytime soon.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Skunks
Another perk of living in the country is wildlife all around. It is usually lots of fun and exciting to see, except when the wildlife is black with a white stripe- a polecat, aka skunk. Well, last week we had seen three skunks in the yard, and one was an albino, wandering around in the day. If you see a skunk in the day, that is bad news. They are nocturnal animals and this usually means a sick skunk. In addition, the skunk family was near the house and seemed unafraid of humans. Bella went out one late afternoon, saw Mr. Skunk, and took off away from me. Bella made a quick grab for her prey, then flipped, and immediately began to rub frantically on the ground. It only took a nonosecond for the miasma of burning rubber smell (that is how it smells to me) to reach me. I had to grab Bella and run for the house and into the shower. Everything reeked- Bella, me, the house, everything. I put out those electric air filters, lit candles, washed everything washable that had touched her, and sprayed Febreeze on Bella. Yes, Febreeze. I read the label and it seems to be non toxic- made from corn. It helps a lot. I don't know if anyone else has tried it, but it mitigates the odor better than hydrogen peroxide, I can tell you for a fact.
Anyway, over the next few days we saw the skunks again in the day. I made a call to the vet and left a message with the State people. The concensus was that they were probably rabid and needed to be killed. How upsetting. I hate to kill anything, even bugs. But Jon went out when we saw one dudring the day and shot it. There was another the next day, and another the next. A friend was talking to me about the sadness of having to kill a living creature, but she did say something probably quite true. "If they are sick and suffering it is not bad to put then out of their misery." The State people (in charge of Rabies, I guess) told me that over 50% of the skunks tested around here in Middle Tennessee are rabid. Interestingly enough, only 20% of the bats are rabid, and there aren't any rabid raccoons here. There are plenty of them in East Tennesseee though. By the time we killed the third one, I was totally paranoid, and had Bella revacinated. She had her shot for Rabies in March, but I wanted to be really sure. I asked the State guy how skunks got rabies, and he said that they give it to each other. I hope that there aren't any more around. Watch out for skunks in the daytime.
Anyway, over the next few days we saw the skunks again in the day. I made a call to the vet and left a message with the State people. The concensus was that they were probably rabid and needed to be killed. How upsetting. I hate to kill anything, even bugs. But Jon went out when we saw one dudring the day and shot it. There was another the next day, and another the next. A friend was talking to me about the sadness of having to kill a living creature, but she did say something probably quite true. "If they are sick and suffering it is not bad to put then out of their misery." The State people (in charge of Rabies, I guess) told me that over 50% of the skunks tested around here in Middle Tennessee are rabid. Interestingly enough, only 20% of the bats are rabid, and there aren't any rabid raccoons here. There are plenty of them in East Tennesseee though. By the time we killed the third one, I was totally paranoid, and had Bella revacinated. She had her shot for Rabies in March, but I wanted to be really sure. I asked the State guy how skunks got rabies, and he said that they give it to each other. I hope that there aren't any more around. Watch out for skunks in the daytime.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
candy
Back when my kids were small I would occasionally let them buy their favorite candy in the grocery store while I shopped. I'd hand over the money and they would go get their treat. When I asked what they bought, Rob or Rebecca would answer with a mouth full of "something"---Annihilators!!!! That name seemed to be a little grusome for candy, but it must be good, or the kids wouldn't want to get it all the time. One day, years later, I mentioned that I thought that was a really odd name for their favorite candy and the kids burst out laughing. "Annihilators!!!!!- Not Annihilators- NOW AND LATERS! Ever heard of them?
Once when Rob was about three or four years old he went to the bank with me, and they gave him a sour ball type candy. In the car I heard a horrible sound, and looked back to see Rob choking. The sour ball had lodged in his throat. Somehow I got it out- I don't know how. It was in the days before the Heimlich, so I think that I did what you aren't supposed to do and stuck my hand in his throat and flipped it out. It is all a blur though. From then on, I lived in fear of "hard candy". None allowed in my house! If the kids ever got some sour ball or fire ball type candy they had to bite it in half immediately! - In my presence! My warning for years, even after they were grown, was, "wear your seat belt, park in a safe place, and don't eat any hard candy."
Rob's favorite candy for a while was Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I'd pack them in his lunch box every day. One day he came back home totally panicked, and showed me his uneaten (but with a bite out) Reeses. There were little meal worms in the filling. They are harmless of course, but icky. That was his last Reese's P.B. Cup- as far as I know.
Rebecca loved candy so much that I felt I must have failed as a mother somehow. She loved candy so much we called her "candy head". Once after Easter she ate so much candy that she developed an allergy to Yellow Number 5- a common coloring agent in candies. She would sneak candy from Nanny's house and eat it under her bed. Rebecca was found out by the ring of stickiness around her mouth. We also called her "glue mouth" or sometimes that was shortened to "glumuth". Rebecca still likes candy, but now cares a lot about her figure and health too. I guess it wasn't really a failure on my part that ol' "Candy Head" loved her sweets.
Once when Rob was about three or four years old he went to the bank with me, and they gave him a sour ball type candy. In the car I heard a horrible sound, and looked back to see Rob choking. The sour ball had lodged in his throat. Somehow I got it out- I don't know how. It was in the days before the Heimlich, so I think that I did what you aren't supposed to do and stuck my hand in his throat and flipped it out. It is all a blur though. From then on, I lived in fear of "hard candy". None allowed in my house! If the kids ever got some sour ball or fire ball type candy they had to bite it in half immediately! - In my presence! My warning for years, even after they were grown, was, "wear your seat belt, park in a safe place, and don't eat any hard candy."
Rob's favorite candy for a while was Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I'd pack them in his lunch box every day. One day he came back home totally panicked, and showed me his uneaten (but with a bite out) Reeses. There were little meal worms in the filling. They are harmless of course, but icky. That was his last Reese's P.B. Cup- as far as I know.
Rebecca loved candy so much that I felt I must have failed as a mother somehow. She loved candy so much we called her "candy head". Once after Easter she ate so much candy that she developed an allergy to Yellow Number 5- a common coloring agent in candies. She would sneak candy from Nanny's house and eat it under her bed. Rebecca was found out by the ring of stickiness around her mouth. We also called her "glue mouth" or sometimes that was shortened to "glumuth". Rebecca still likes candy, but now cares a lot about her figure and health too. I guess it wasn't really a failure on my part that ol' "Candy Head" loved her sweets.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Foot Fetishers
Did you ever think that it was a joke that some guys were turned on by feet? It is not a joke. First of all, I must preface this post by saying that I always have painted toe nails and I love to wear flip flops- fancy flipflops with sequins and beads, preferably hot pink. My feet are pretty small too, so I guess they look ok- for feet. Summer time is prime season for the foot fetish people. All of my experiences happen in the summer. Well, you could hardly expect someone to see through your socks and winter shoes to admire your feet. So now, I will relate two of these run ins with foot people.
I was home alone one night when a neighbor who was on the Board of Directors of the Home Owners Association called me. I was president of the Board, so there was nothing unusual about the call. Mark (names have been changed to protect the guilty) said that he wanted to come over to discuss something. No alarm bells went off in my head. He was a nerdy type of guy, married, and seemed as normal as anyone around here. (That is- not REAL normal, but close enough). So, I let him in, I got us something to drink, and I waited to hear what new neighborhood disaster was disturbing Mark. He spoke of this and that, and I noticed that he kept looking at my bare feet. I had my legs up on the coffee table, and figured that he just thought legs didn't belong on coffee tables, even your own table! The next thing I knew, he sidled a little closer, and said, "Can we have sex?" I was so taken aback that I just said, "No Mark!" Then he moved a little closer as I moved away and asked, "Then can I go down on you?" Horrors! All that I could think of was- how the hell can I get this nut case out of here, and who knew he was insane? Also, why did I let Mark in here when hubby was gone? My answer to that request was "NO!" Then he leaned in to me and whispered, "Then can I suck your toes?!?" Eeeyew! What I was really thinking was that I really needed to repaint my toes. Mark looked affronted, and said, "Well, you don't have to look so disgusted!" I jumped up, pointed my (unpainted) finger at Mark, and said "YOU have to go- NOW". Then unbelieveably he said, "Well what are you going to do if I say no?" At that I felt panicked, and the only think that I could think to say was- "If you don't go- then- I'm going to cry!" Mark said, "Oh damn, I hate to see a woman cry- I'm leaving." I more or less shoved him out the door- locked it, drew the shades, and got my gun. From then on I avoided Mark but always acted pleasant. We have never mentioned it and he never looks at my feet.
The other time I am going to talk about was in Florida. I was in a Wal Mart in Pensacola with my husband, daughter, and her friend. They all went off to look at CDs, Videos, and fun things like that while I had the cart to get groceries. I was pushing up one aisle and down another, and vaguely noticed the same guy passing me back and forth. Anyone who has ever gone grocery shopping knows that is not unusual at all. If you maintain approximately the same pace, you'll see the same person on every aisle. In the bread aisle this man stopped me with an "Ahem, Ma'am?" I thought he was going to ask me if I knew where something like where the Wheat Chex was, so I stopped with a pleasant smile on my face to hear what he was going to say. Then this nice gentleman looked at me and asked, "Can I massage your feet?" My reply was a flustered, "No thank you, not now." And I sped off like Mario Andretti to relay my latest to the family.
There have been a couple of other times, one just a month ago or so when I was at the pool, and the lifeguard said, "I love your toes!" I could feel them curling up but just gave a sprightly "Thanks". From then on I've wondered if he studies my toes when I do a flip turn!
There is a pic of my feet, my daughter's, and my son's feet as the next post. Doesn't do anything for me. I used to draw faces with a pen on the kid's big toes and then take pictures of them. I still do it if they let me. Maybe I attract these foot people in some cosmic way that I don't know about. Better that they have a fetish for feet than some other body parts, if you ask me.
I was home alone one night when a neighbor who was on the Board of Directors of the Home Owners Association called me. I was president of the Board, so there was nothing unusual about the call. Mark (names have been changed to protect the guilty) said that he wanted to come over to discuss something. No alarm bells went off in my head. He was a nerdy type of guy, married, and seemed as normal as anyone around here. (That is- not REAL normal, but close enough). So, I let him in, I got us something to drink, and I waited to hear what new neighborhood disaster was disturbing Mark. He spoke of this and that, and I noticed that he kept looking at my bare feet. I had my legs up on the coffee table, and figured that he just thought legs didn't belong on coffee tables, even your own table! The next thing I knew, he sidled a little closer, and said, "Can we have sex?" I was so taken aback that I just said, "No Mark!" Then he moved a little closer as I moved away and asked, "Then can I go down on you?" Horrors! All that I could think of was- how the hell can I get this nut case out of here, and who knew he was insane? Also, why did I let Mark in here when hubby was gone? My answer to that request was "NO!" Then he leaned in to me and whispered, "Then can I suck your toes?!?" Eeeyew! What I was really thinking was that I really needed to repaint my toes. Mark looked affronted, and said, "Well, you don't have to look so disgusted!" I jumped up, pointed my (unpainted) finger at Mark, and said "YOU have to go- NOW". Then unbelieveably he said, "Well what are you going to do if I say no?" At that I felt panicked, and the only think that I could think to say was- "If you don't go- then- I'm going to cry!" Mark said, "Oh damn, I hate to see a woman cry- I'm leaving." I more or less shoved him out the door- locked it, drew the shades, and got my gun. From then on I avoided Mark but always acted pleasant. We have never mentioned it and he never looks at my feet.
The other time I am going to talk about was in Florida. I was in a Wal Mart in Pensacola with my husband, daughter, and her friend. They all went off to look at CDs, Videos, and fun things like that while I had the cart to get groceries. I was pushing up one aisle and down another, and vaguely noticed the same guy passing me back and forth. Anyone who has ever gone grocery shopping knows that is not unusual at all. If you maintain approximately the same pace, you'll see the same person on every aisle. In the bread aisle this man stopped me with an "Ahem, Ma'am?" I thought he was going to ask me if I knew where something like where the Wheat Chex was, so I stopped with a pleasant smile on my face to hear what he was going to say. Then this nice gentleman looked at me and asked, "Can I massage your feet?" My reply was a flustered, "No thank you, not now." And I sped off like Mario Andretti to relay my latest to the family.
There have been a couple of other times, one just a month ago or so when I was at the pool, and the lifeguard said, "I love your toes!" I could feel them curling up but just gave a sprightly "Thanks". From then on I've wondered if he studies my toes when I do a flip turn!
There is a pic of my feet, my daughter's, and my son's feet as the next post. Doesn't do anything for me. I used to draw faces with a pen on the kid's big toes and then take pictures of them. I still do it if they let me. Maybe I attract these foot people in some cosmic way that I don't know about. Better that they have a fetish for feet than some other body parts, if you ask me.
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