Not the Christmas I had Imagined
I can't remember a Christmas morning as nice and fun as ours was this year. When the family arrived, we took turns opening gifts instead of having it be a free for all. It was so much more relaxed. It was really nice.
It was overshadowed a bit by my cat Colby, being sick. When we came home from vacation, he seemed ok, but skinny, unusually skinny. We thought he had not been eating as much because he missed us. My neighbor talked to me one day while on vacation and said he wasn't eating. When I talked to her the next time, she said he seemed better. I was worried about him having a urinary tract infection but he was drinking and going to the bathroom. I thought things would be ok.
Last night, Mr. BBM told me something was definitely very wrong. I ventured downstairs, despite my allergies to cats and pet him for a while. He was lethargic, not eating at all and I knew it wasn't good. I watched him walk to the litter box and he looked like he was in pain, walking gingerly, taking his time with each step.
We sent my sister a text and asked if she could bring anything to help today. She works at a vet so she showed up with all kinds of things so that we could try to get him to eat. Mr. BBM fed him baby food and liquids with a syringe. We stood him up to show my sister how he was walking and when he climbed back into his blanket, he fell forward. He was barely moving and he felt cold to me.
We found a vet ER that was open and I loaded up the carrier with warm towels and Colby, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. I told Mr. BBM we had better have the girls give him a hug and pet him, tell him they love him and so they did.
When we arrived, they took one look at him with his drastic weight loss in just the past few days and immediately took him back to see the vet. Her news wasn't good. There was a mass under his rib cage, definitely cancer, probably a very aggressive and fast growing one since this came on so very quickly. She gave us our options and told us she strongly recommended we put him to sleep. She said his temperature was low, and that his body was shutting down. She said he was obviously in pain. She wasn't telling us anything we didn't already know. We just didn't want to believe it. They could try surgery, but she honestly didn't think that he'd even live up until the time they had him prepped for it. He was already dying.
I sobbed and asked a ton of questions, some to her, some to God, about how this could possibly happen on Christmas Day and how I was supposed to break it to my little girls at home who had said prayers and told him he'd be ok and that they would see him later.
We took some alone time with him and for the first time all day, he actually purred as I put my arm down his back and gently pet him, his head in my other hand. I felt like he was saying he knew what was going to happen and that he was ok with it. The vet gave him two injections into the port and within seconds he was gone. I kept my arm around his blanketed body and held his head the whole time, not wanting it on the cold table. Mr. BBM and I pet him and talked to him while he left. It was so hard.
It is SO hard.
We were there the day he was born because he was born on my in-laws' deck when Mr. BBM and I were in college. He has been ours for 13 years and 8 months and he has always been with his brother and litter mate, Bear.
When it was all over, Mr. BBM and I each took turns holding him and crying. I wrapped him up snugly in the blanket, finally, and we said our final goodbyes.
I couldn't believe I had to bring an empty carrier home to the girls and to our Bear. Big I took it particularly hard. She doesn't understand why God didn't listen to her and answer her prayer. Trying to explain this to children is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do.
We read a poem called the Rainbow Bridge and that seemed to help her a bit. Just now though, I heard a huge sob come from her room. I'm going to go climb into bed with her until she goes to sleep.
Lil C is sleeping with her Colby webkin that looks just like him. She kicked all her other stuffed animals out tonight.
We already miss you so much Colby.
Orlando is the New Gilligan’s Island
On December 11th, my family and I left for a trip to Disney World. We spent a night at the Philly airport Embassy Suites with my parents and laughed about how we were so happy we had our own rooms at the Caribbean Beach resort in Orlando. Six people sharing one bathroom is do-able for one day. On the 12th, we went to the airport and sat for over an hour waiting for them to finish repairing some kind of generator on the airplane. When you're a nervous air passenger anyway, repairs that are happening in front of your eyes, don't comfort you. Not a bit.
Lil C survived her first flight as if she was going for a car ride. We kept the girls entertained while in the air and landed filled with excitement. What waited for us was a very long line.
It would end up being the theme for the week.
It took us several bus loads full of people until it was our turn. Once on the Magical Express, we were just plain excited. We had the whole day to spend at the park and our luggage would arrive in our room when we returned from the park.
Lil C enjoyed meeting Ariel and Big I enjoyed having her memory restored of the magical place that is the Magic Kingdom. Mr. BBM and I quickly remembered that weekends in the park are no picnic and tried to avoid becoming too frustrated with line-cutters and rude people in the parks. Also, since it was the first day, we bit our tongues when we realized that Disney was routing us through not one, but two gift shops just to exit the Snow White ride. Gift shops with Disney princess and clubhouse fans are no fun for a parent trying to keep the budget in check.
Monday was a better day. We started off at the resort pool where the girls were having a blast. The adults were having a nice time too, right up until Big I told Mr. BBM she was going on the water slide and then didn't come out at the bottom. A full on search began and when we didn't find her in the bathroom, I started to really panic. A good 15 minutes went by without being able to find her and I started running towards the manager with the walkie-talkie, right as Mr. BBM turned up with her. She had been in the "companion bathroom." It had been an emergency. Needless to say, our fun at the pool was over. It took a good hour for the adrenalin and all the bad images to leave my head. My Dad couldn't get the book "The Shack" out of his head during our frantic search; I couldn't get the research paper and speech about Human Trafficking out of mine.
In the afternoon, the girls met characters and made their way through the World Showcase in EPCOT. But Lil C kept yelling out that her mouth hurt. As much as I wanted to believe she was simply in need of a drink, deep down I knew something was up.
Tuesday morning she woke up with a fever over 100 and my heart sank. My hopes for an event free vacation were dashed once again. With our car parked in Philadelphia, I began searching for other options to get her seen by a doctor. Within an hour, a shuttle picked us up and took us to Urgent Care where Lil C was diagnosed with an ear infection. Fortunately, the place was attached to a pharmacy and I was giddy loading up on water bottles that were only $.89 after paying $2.75 the day before.
Lil C started feeling better almost instantly and we spent every day in a park, including our departure date on Saturday, the 19th.
After watching the weather reports for back home that included the words "worst snowfall ever" and "blizzard like conditions," we knew we were in trouble. Flying into Philly in 50 mph winds and horizonal snowfall wasn't going to happen. Being an experienced traveler, Mr. BBM got on the phone with USAir on Friday night. Actually, I should say that he "got on hold" with USAir, because he spent about three hours on hold, just waiting to talk to an agent.
When a terse and snot-tastic agent finally answered the phone, Mr. BBM and I were both sleeping. However, I soon realized that "Hello, USAir. . . Hello USAir" wasn't part of my dreams and yelled for Mr. BBM to pick up the phone. In a daze, he asked about our flight and we were told it was listed as affected. We were able to switch our flight to Sunday afternoon for no charge. We did it, and Mr. BBM used hotel points to book a night at the Embassy Suites. So much for only sharing a room once on vacation.
On Saturday morning, my Mom woke up sick as a dog, but there was nothing for us to do about it. We had park tickets, but no place for her to rest. We had to check out. She spent the day as a trooper, making her way through hoards of people that made me claustrophobic and annoyed. We were definitely "disney'ed out," and when I say that I mean that we were "peopled out." People can really suck. In fact, at one point, if I hadn't spent six days treking through miles and miles of park and hadn't been suffering from both knee, back and hip pain, I think I would have physically removed the huge family who cut us in the bus line and made us miss the bus back to our resort. And when I say "removed," I mean from this Earth.
On Saturday night we made our way to the airport and then caught the shuttle to Embassy Suites. Our room was really nice and we had a few drinks and decided to make the best of it. At least we didn't have to deal with another public restroom in the Disney Parks. Good God, when you have two little girls, I swear it's all you do.
The next morning, we got all packed up (again) and went to the airport. It listed our flight as "on time" and we were thrilled. We boarded the plane at 1:30 p.m. for the 1:55 flight. At around 2, the pilot came on the radio and said we would be delayed about 45 minutes because of conditions in Philly. Because our first flight had been cancelled, I was sitting with Lil C, a row ahead of Mr. BBM and Big I. My parents were 20 rows ahead of us. After another 30 minute delay, we backed away from the gate and went out to await our take-off. After 45 minutes on the runway, we were told we were going back to the gate. It continued like this all afternoon. Once back at the gate, they gave us drinks and we sat and waited and waited and waited. At 4 p.m. the pilot said he would let us off the plane to get food since there was no food on board. He told us to be back no later than 4:45 because we were probably going to get the go-ahead at 5 p.m. Everyone got off the plane, minus me and the kids and some other families. Mr. BBM went to get us food.
We ate, and were ready to go at 4:45. The eternal optimist, I still believed it was going to happen. At 5 p.m. there was still nothing. We were delayed again. Finally, at 6 p.m., the pilot told us he had some bad news. Philly was gridlock. They had only taken in 16 flights the last hour and the runway lights were covered with drifting snow. Our flight was cancelled. I may or may not have screamed "NOOOOOOO!!!!" I know I at least did in my head. I knew this already though, because the man sitting behind me got a call from his son, who had looked it up on the internet. We were listed as cancelled before our pilot even knew. I asked the flight attendants if they could just drive the plane up the highways and get us home but unfortunately, the answer was no.
We got off the plane and made our way to the ticketing agents once again. The line was insanely long. Every flight to Philadelphia had been cancelled. The problem was that some of the flights were cancelled before the people got on the planes so we were at the back of the line. My Mom and I took the girls (a sleeping Lil C who had fallen asleep on the parked plane, woken up and assumed we were home) to retrieve our bags. When Mr. BBM approached, I knew it was bad news. We weren't flying home until Tuesday afternoon. All Monday flights were booked.
Back to Embassy Suites we went for two more nights. On Monday, I spent about $25 doing laundry in the hotel and my dad and Mr. BBM went out on a 3.5 hour trek to get my Mom a called in antibiotic.
Finally, yesterday, we were able to make it onto a non-delayed or cancelled flight and return back home. Don't get me wrong; I had a great time while in Disney, but the drama that always happens on my vacations has got to stop. This is the third vacation in a row where Urgent Care has been required for Lil C. I just thank God for Embassy Suites' Manager's reception each night (free drinks and snacks). It's seriously the only bright spot during those last few days in Orlando, and what each one of the adults in our party lived for during those last few days.
The next time I go to Orlando in the winter, I am driving. And to Mr. BBM, "I told ya so."
ACL Knee: Always On My Mind
Last week I finally made it into karate class for the first time in a couple weeks. Because my knee has been so incredibly cranky, I told my teacher right up front that I couldn't do the kneeling for the rei in or out. He said it wasn't a problem and that we would do it from a standing position.
I made it through class, but my knee complained much of the time. Turning and pivoting absolutely sucked. Standing in nai hanchi wasn't fun either. After class officially ended, I stayed a little longer and worked out with several other black belts. We worked on a couple black belt kata. My teacher asked what I wanted to do and I said I would do whatever he wanted to do. I was clearly out of practice and welcomed reviewing anything. But we didn't review.
He mentioned something about me needing Chinto for 2nd degree and we got right into it. To be perfectly honest, I haven't once thought about going beyond Shodan. So happy and content to wrap that black obi around my waist each time I go, I just haven't even allowed myself to consider the possibilities of moving up in rank. Simply getting into the dojo has been sufficient for me.
I miss karate immensely. Although I was stressed and tired, training four-five days a week during those months leading up to testing was fun. The testing group has a tight bond and we all get along so well. Although I'd be drenched at the end of the two-three hour night (sometimes more), I was enjoying myself and the hard work.
I absolutely hate that I have become the type of black belt I never wanted to be. I arrive and people are happy to see me because it's been a while since I've been there. We have catching up to do because I haven't been there regularly. I absolutely hate that I'm not there regularly.
I've been putting it off for months because I wanted things to magically get better, but I'm realizing that the new year is probably going to contain another visit to a surgeon. My knee is not right. Currently, half of it is blue and purple. The bruising extends out from the tibia incision area all the way up into my knee cap. I realized the other day that I'm limping a bit and that I have to really work to be able to completely straighten it sometimes. Putting any type of pressure on the knee by kneeling is through the roof painful.
Last night I sat on the sofa and did some scar tissue massage in the area where I'm so sore. It was almost unbearable. I had every intention of going to karate again last night, but I felt that it was probably best that I didn't risk making it even more sore than it already is right now. We're going to Disney World soon and I need to be able to walk and keep up with my girls.
I can honestly say that tearing my ACL is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. It has robbed me of so many things. I think about how Lil C would sit at the top of the stairs when it first happened and cry because I had to scoot down the stairs like she did; I couldn't hold her. I think about how I feel every night that I want to be training, but am instead elevating my knee on the sofa. I think about it every time I want to put on a pair of my heels and know I can't because I'm going to pay for it for a week after. I think about it every time I have a twinge of soreness or stiffness (which is pretty much every day). I think about it every second that I'm at karate and it makes me mad that it is constantly an issue. I long for the days when all I worried about was whether or not my self defense move worked or my kata looked the way it's supposed to, And I'm angry that I'm not one of the people who can just bounce right back from it and not have another problem. Next week will be two years since my original surgery and I am not where I want to be, not anywhere close.
If a visit to a surgeon in the new year brings yet another surgery, it will be three years in a row. That is three years too many.
A Dash of Elf Magic
For the past week, for whatever reason, Lil C has been a total bear. The normal bedtime routine went from being simple to a two hour marathon. She wasn't feeling well, but it was getting a little ridiculous. Then, she got into my make-up after she got into her own play make-up that she smeared all over the new bathroom towels. She also took my Silk-n-Shine lip stuff, climbed into my bed, mushed it all up in her fingers and then smeared it all over Mr. BBM's nightstand and our comforter. Grease like that doesn't come out. On top of the purple pen marks that were already there, it looks fantastic.
Yesterday we went to the grocery store and as I was loading bottles of shampoo and conditioner into our cart, I heard her click one of the bottles open. I turned around, pointed at her and told her to close it and leave it alone. I heard it click. She was riding in the back of the cart and besides having to tell her to sit every fourth aisle or so, she was being an angel. When I got to check out I found out why.
Because I had my reuseable bags and purse in the top part of the cart, I didn't have a good view of what was happening below and I was in a hurry. I unloaded about half of the groceries and Lil C was helping me. Suddenly she stopped and stared at her hands. It was at the exact same moment that I picked up my Hershey's Cocoa and realized it was all white and greasy.
Conditioner.
Squeezed all over the rest of my groceries. Thankfully I had avoided self check-out that day and I had a wonderful cashier who whipped out the paper towels and started helping me clean everything up, including Lil C and the bottom of the cart. It looked as if she had flipped the cap up, and squeezed it with all her might until it exploded like a volcano.
It was then that I recalled almost wiping out in one of the back aisles, which seemed strange to me at the time because there was no bottle nearby. She must have squeezed it, scared herself half to death, and then shoved it under all the groceries where it dripped onto the floor.
Frustrated and fried didn't even begin to describe me. The cashier smiled and said, "I bet your other one is an angel." She's right. Big I never would have done anything like that. Never.
Last night, we had a neighborhood girls night complete with drinks, snacks and chair massages for nine of us. Some of the Mom's were talking about their "elf on the shelf." I decided it was time to call for some reinforcements.
Today, Lil C and I went to Borders where we picked up "The Elf on the Shelf." We got to the car and I opened up the box, revealing our own little elf. I read her the story book and her face looked amused and concerned all at the same time.
We arrived home and Lil C got busy eating her lunch. When Big I came home from school, Lil C started telling Big I about the elf and how he's magical and you can't touch him and every night he flys to Santa to give a report. Big I wanted to see him, so I helped her open the box.
The elf was gone.
Both girls started running through possibilities of where he could have gone. Lil C thought that maybe he was already flying to the north pole to give a report. Big I thought that maybe he had escaped and was hiding out somewhere in the house.
Two minutes later, our elf, Elliott was found, sitting on top of a mirror in our family room. Big I told me she swears he just smiled a little more at her when she stood there and smiled at me. Lil C told me she just heard him burp. Both girls are on their best behavior. Lil C ate all her lunch; Big I is currently cleaning her bedroom.
How I love Elliott. . . how I love Christmas magic.
American Idol It
During the first month of the semester, I did an activity with my writing class that helped shape the rest of the class. I gave them the topic of American Idol, put them in groups and told them to write down everything they knew about the topic.They thought I was crazy but they did it for a while. When they had exhausted everything they knew about American Idol, I asked them to think outside of the box and look for deeper meaning in the things they had written down.
At first, I got blank stares. Still, I held my tongue. I wanted to see what they could come up with. I didn't want to give them any further instruction because I wanted to see what they would do with my request. Slowly, activity and conversation started to pick up in the classroom. Soon there was much discussion and writing.
When I brought the class back together a little while later, what they had done was amazing. They had taken something as simple as "Simon Cowell" and turned it into a potential love triangle with Paula Abdul. They had taken American Idol auditions and turned it into a commentary on society and how we enjoy watching people self-destruct on live television. That piece of information was taken even further and before I knew it we had the entire chalkboard full of out of the box thinking and ideas. We had conspiracy theories, societal problems and concern over those crazy people who audition.
I asked them at the end of class, to write down what they had learned. Whenever I wanted them to dig deeper into their topic throughout the semester, I told them to "American Idol" it. Because of this activity, they knew just what I wanted and they got to work. These past couple days, as I reviewed their portfolios, journal entries, final research papers and final reflection papers, I realized just how much they have learned. About 70% of my class wrote something about how "American Idoling" their papers has helped them. It was a simple activity that I thought might work and it turned into a critical thinking exercise that defined our semester.
One student who never seemed to particularly like me wrote in her final paper that "American Idol" is not and should not ever be used as a verb and that she thought it was "stupid." Of all the research papers, hers was the one that lacked analysis and critical thinking the most.
Although I am mostly thrilled with the final papers (I gave some of the highest grades I've ever given) and with the progress of most of my students, it is this comment that will stick in my head. From now until I teach that course again, I will be contemplating how to reach all students in the classroom, how to get everyone to buy into the critical thinking I wanted them to do to create better papers. I hate that I will let one negative comment bother me, but I will.
It is dulled though by what happened after my final speech class. One of my writing students came jumping into my room with a paper in hand. It was her theology paper and she got an A on it. I told her I was proud of her; it was quite obvious she was proud of herself. As I packed up my stuff to leave, I asked her if she had come to show me because she applied what she learned in my writing class. Sheepishly she said, "Yeah," as she doodled on the board and drew a heart with the words "Love Ms. B" underneath.
Heart doodling to the forefront; American Idol as a verb comment to the back please.
Ah, now that's better.
If you'd like to see some other education in action, please check out this website for information regarding a cool science fair!
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