So We Were at the Troop Medical Center

Current mood: annoyed

Watch out, lane changes will occur with little or no warning in this one-

A couple of weeks ago La Princessa began complaining about a pain in her foot. I usuallly have a complaint about her only it is slightly further northward. After asking if there was a sore or anything there, I took her complaint seriously and told her if it continued or got worse to tell me. Last week she complained again and showed me a bump thing in the middle of the ball of her foot. I told her what I thought and what I thought we should do- watch her a little more.

Over the weekend she spent some time limping and on Monday night she said it was feeling a little better but that the bump thing was bigger. I forgot about it yesterday but it was bugging her at practice last night, so I decided to call in for an appointment today. Oh joy.

Our appointment line turns on at 6:45 and if you are not calling in at 6:41 you aren't likely to get an appointment. Why? Military health care, which I do not normally complain (too much) about, is a big giganticus HMO and most of our primary care doctors/nurse practitioners/physician's assistants and the like, are housed in very large clinic-style facilities and ours is overtaxed. Bigtime. See, Fort Bliss is growing tremendously and will be doubled to about 30,000 active duty Soldiers within the next four years. That number does not include their families or the civilian work force necessary to support the growth. So when we call Central Appointments, the appointments we may or may not get are a bit of a crapshoot. I called at 6:47 because I lost track of time. Dude gave me the only appointment available- 8:00, take it or leave it. I took.

Both kids were still in morning coma and my hair was dripping wet, but we pulled it together and left the house at 7:28 to get Nolan to school and us to post. I dropped Amanda in the parking lot and told her to check in because we just did squeak through the traffic jam at Marshall and Fred Wilson with enough time for her to check in. So, she went in and I parked. They called her just as I got in the lobby. Our lobby is huge. I would say about 200 people can be seated and/or waiting at any given time. There are tons of providers and I couldn't begin to tell you how many, but my estimate is somewhere around 40? Anyone assigned to the Troop Medical Center, which is not officially called the Soldier Family Medical Center (but I refuse to call it that because they have only renamed it four times in the last five years and I am not changing it anymore), can be seen there, from newborns to Generals, so it is a pretty hoppin' type o' place. Today was no exception.

When they called her back we manuevered through the Wounded Warriors and the strollers and the medics and the escorts and the everything to get to our nurse. She had to take us to two different rooms for Amanda's triage. In between those rooms is another waiting area for Soldiers on sick call. Now, my kid is pretty. Many (most) of these Soldiers are less than three years older than her. Yes, they noticed. Aside from my nearly hyperventilating at their checking her out, I realized something which shouldn't really be that big of a surprise to me after seventeen years. I am a part of a military community, as are my kids. We visit, on a nearly daily basis, a cesspool of unbridled, barely post-pubescent testosterone. Minor panic attack. Oh, and we're moving to a training post with our gorgeous fifteen year old, very innocent daughter. Holy crap. OK.

Once we were settled and waiting on the doctor, another nurse (whom I assume is assigned to another provider, becuase it is usually one nurse/medic to each provider) knocked on our door, opened it and then mumbled something and shut the door again. Excuse me, door closed-medical facility-you're shocked that a patient was present? Whatevah. Keep your unintelligible self out of my kid's room, K?

Our doctor came in and hallelujah, she was active duty! I love active duty doctors. They are awesome and usually very personable and to me, they really listen to the patient. So, we were lucky today and didn't get the person who can't seem to manage outside on the economy, but chooses to serve the military and their families with their talents and knowledge. So there. She took Amanda's history and crinkled her nose when she learned that she cheers and wrestles and then mashed on the foot with the growing bump/nodule/knot/growth thing. And, what did she ascertain? This is not a tumor nor a nodule nor a knot but it is a blister. Heh? A blister? It is huge and hiding up in her foot space. Yup, its a blister which has formed up in the muscular part of the ball of her foot but it can't come to the skin's surface because she is so active that her skin on the bottom of her foot is thick. I know, sounds really flipping weird. She told us to soak it and gave us some military Skittles (Motrin) and sent us on our way.

That meant we had to return to the main waiting area for the pharmacy. No problem, or so I thought. I sent Amanda over to get our number at the pharmacy while I turned in a form at the front desk. After a minute I joined her in the corner of the waiting area the pharmacy uses. As soon as I got there I noticed the overwhelming "scent" of crap. Yes, sorry, gross I know, shoulda been there, it was awful! Again, all kinds of peeps there and you never know what you are going to get.

Today we got a sprinkling of all kinds and I am cool with that. What I am not cool with is stinky baby and her momma. This mom was in her early twenties and dressed nicely. Not extravagantly, just nicely. She was clean and seemed to have HER business in check. Her daughter was probably a little over two. They had an umbrella stroller, but the baby wasn't sitting in it. She was wandering, which I can also deal with. Here's where I start to lose my dang mind. This child had on socks. No shoes. She was old enough to walk and was walking, in public, at a medical facility which services sick people -in socks. Which were black. Socks, and it was a chilly morning, somewhere around 35 when we left the house. She was the obvious culprit of the engulfing poo-ness. As she toddled about, it wafted and wafted and wafted. Most of us were on the verge of gagging but it didn't seem to phase her mother. This poor baby's hair was shoulder length and not brushed. Baby-fine hair tangles and assumes the strangest of positions and is easy to spot when not groomed. Her face was not dirty, but there were obvious booger tracks from her nose to her mouth. They were thick and white and had been there for a while. I wanted to slap her mother, who had not brought a diaper bag, but had managed to slip a bottle of milk (ew, no telling how old it was) in her Dooney and Bourke.

Obviously, this is a person who understands a few things about life like showering and wearing clothing appropriate for the weather, including footwear. She must be able to afford something in the shoe family for this child if she can afford the dual purpose purse/bottle tote bag she had, so why the obvious omission of footwear? I looked. There were none in the stroller. The bag was too small to house them (it was like a roomy wallet with a strap), there were no shoes.

What the heck? Is it me? Am I the problem because I think that a child of walking age ought be shod in something sutiable for their age and walking ability? Is it too much to ask to take twenty seconds to run a comb through your child's hair or swipe their face with a baby wipe every hour? And, even more importantly, this mom didn't seem to be waddling around in her own poo. What the heck is the problem? Take the baby to the bathroom, where they do have a changing table, and change her pants. Sheesh! I can't imagine how long the load had been there, but the diaper was sagging and bulging pretty badly. How hard is it? Change the diaper.

Change it and then I will think you are a reasonable person. But, until then, I think you are an idiot. And put some friggin' shoes on your kid.

Currently listening:Little Tiny Smelly BitBy The Stinky PuffsRelease date: 1995-06-22

FaceSpace-MyBook-BlogHoo

Current mood: contemplative

Wow, these "social networking" websites are really starting to absorb a lot of my time. When I joined MySpace a few years back it was because a dear friend was driving me nuts. Then I joined Yahoo 360 and started blogging there. That was great until their bugs got the better of everyone. Next I set up a Bogger page and I still contribute there as well as the MySpace. And then, for some reason, I went to Facebook and I import my blog there as well. I'm so hooked.

This has been wonderful for me as a military spouse. Most of my friends are fairly transient, in a way we haven't been. I usually have a timeline for my friendships of about two years, since everyone but us has had the chance to move away. Yes, we'll hopefully be moving too at some point, but not right now. These sites have enabled me to keep in touch with all my friends who have moved away and are still near and dear to my heart.

What amazes me even more is the number of people I have gotten back in touch with from school. Holy cow! I am having SO much fun! I was excited to get to go back home for our ten year reunion and now that the twenty is on the horizon, I am shocked. But, I've learned a lot.

There were people in high school I couldn't stand. I am thinking it bordered on hate in some cases. Some of those people hated me first or were hating me back, some were people who I didn't know but didn't like anyway and some were people who were very different from me and thus, dislike. Now that I truly understand hate, I try to veer away from it whenever possible.

What I have learned is that these are some pretty decent people. They are the kind of people I would be friends with today. I've grown a lot. I've matured a lot. My life experiences have enabled me to see things very differently from the way I did in high school. I think I like me a whole lot more today. Here are some more things I've noted:

BOYS: In school, I wasn't the girl every boy wanted to go out with, but I was a great buddy to a good number of guys. Looking back, I think that was better for me. At the time, I desperately wanted to be the girl guys "liked" "that way," but never was, AND if I was, the guys NEVER let me know (so, you have some explaining to do, why is that?). I had a lot of self-esteem problems from that in school because people close to me were "those" girls and I hated that I wasn't. But, I am OK with all that now. Heck, if I had been the type guys asked out, I wouldn't have been the type that would ask a guy out and I might not have ever had that first date with my husband. And, when I read the pages of the boys I knew back then, I realize what sweethearts most of these men have become. They are men who love their wives tremendously and who strive to give their kids great lives. They are open and accepting and I for one want to hug you all just for being good guys.

GIRLS: Again, I had issues. I was a spaz. I know that now like I knew it then, but that was who I was. I spent most of high school disliking some girls simply because I was jealous of how beautiful they were and that the boys really did "like them" more than they "liked" me in "that way." That is so hard for me to swallow today. Now, I am able to see that my life has turned out exactly as it should have. Were I different in school I would be very different now, and there is no trade in the world equitable enough for who I am now. So, if I was ever a cow to you or annoyed you (because that was often my goal), I apologize. Having my own teenager has taught me that kids really do go brain dead in puberty. I see who you are today and how you relate to your families and I think it is beautiful. I think you are beautiful too, all of you.

I wish I could go back and remain friends with the boys I dated back then or the girls I burned bridges with. I wouldn't still pine after the boys and that stalker type is not my thing, but seriously, how immature was I? These are the people who helped formulate my foundation and they helped make me who I am. Obviously at one point, each of these people with whom I had friendships or relationships were valuable to me. Now I wonder why I lost sight of that value.

So, here's to you, everyone I used to know. I've missed you and wondered "who" you all became since we graduated and grew up and some of us moved away. I really do love you guys!

Currently listening:Grease - Deluxe EditionBy Olivia Newton-JohnRelease date: 2003-09-23

Weekend Musings

Current mood: uncomfortable

I slept until around 9 on Saturday. I have no idea how I accomplished that bit of good fortune, but I did and I needed it. Of course, once I woke up it was laundry time and cleaning time and all the crap I didn't want to do time. So, I did it. Nolan was feeling horrible with a cold, but he had a wrestling match so I doped him up and we were on our way to the far east side. Like, so far east that we were in Baton Rouge or something.

When we got there, the kids were in rare form. The fought with each other and acted like asses so I put them in check. I had one in tears there and not wanting to compete and one begging me to be be lenient on her, which I was not. I wound up taking two iPods, a phone, computer priveledges and game console rights. Yup, I'm that kinda cow.

Eventually, he did compete. He felt so awful, and I wasn't sure how he would do. He lost his first bout to a kid that cannot possibly be eleven or under. He was huge, and my kid is huge, but this kid was WAY huger. WAY! He did hang in there for a while with him, however. He won his next bout against a kid he's beat before. The boy was crying to his mother before their bout about not wanting to face Nolan. A teeny-tiny part of me kinda sorta felt bad for him, but I don't like his mother because she is rude and she was mean to him, so I got over it quick. A lot of wrestling parents are flat-out mean to their kids about "how" they wrestle or not being motivated. They scream at the kids as if life depended on their performance. I hate that. It can't be my dream. It has to be their dream or not at all. His third bout was against G from TF. He's lost every bout he's had against him, but he's getting closer every time to overcoming his mental block about him. He didn't lose until G got him in a hold and hyperextended Nolan's shoulder. I was very proud of his fourth place finish.

I felt bad for Amanda because this was the third match she had to sit out for the wrist. Her therapist wont release her yet because she hasn't built up enough strength to help her combat the inflamation. She is dying to wrestle again. Secretly, although I do understand how much she wants to compete, I am glad she can't. She is so small that the guys just throw her around and her inexperience totally works against her. Coach D did say something that both disturbed me and cracked me up at the same time. He told me to have her flirt and be girly and stretch in front of them so they pop a woody because then they wont wrestle well. See, funny and disturbing all at once. I think I'll pass on the woody being within a relatively close proximity of my kid, thanks. But I am laughing. Now she's complaining about this thing on he foot hurting her. At first I just thought she was whining, then she made me feel it. There is a marble-sized lump in the ball of her foot. I guess we're going to see a doc again. Joy.

After the tourney we ran to WalMart where all the SuperBowl idiots were on-hand to act as if the absence of ample chicken wings was a sign of the apocolypse. Seriously, people were losing their dang minds. I got a reusable ice pack for the kids' frequent and increasing injuries and some Motrin for the inflamation. It pays to have medics as coaches!

We got home, had chicken Caesar ciabatta sandwiches and I crashed early. The kids stayed up and watched a movie. I don't know why I've been so stinking sleepy.

Today I woke up and did the tax thing. Yay. Not really, but whatever. I am underwhelmed by it all. I got home and cleaned a little and then we delivered fundraising cups for cheer and ran to grab some snacks for the game. Guess what- more dummies were losing their ever-loving minds. I just mosied through and got a pack of chicken wings which were miraculously in-stock and some Sudafed and we came home. I promptly changed into jammies and pulled my hair back and watched the game and did nothing. It was glorious.

And, all I have to say is that James Harrison should really have been thrown out of the game or something. He had an awesome run, but that doesn't allow him to act like an a-hole.

Oh, and one day we will have a dog named Fitzie in honor of Larry Fitzgerald. Thank you very much!

Currently listening:All Star WeekendRelease date: 2003-04-22

Yup, You Rock

Current mood: grateful

Radiothon has come and gone (silly rhyme was accidental) and we did well. Considering that last year we just broke $100k and the recession/depression/financial malady of your choosing of the last several months, I don't think our total of somewhere in the area of $84k is all that shabby. I did tell the guys, however, that no matter what, every year during the drive home I get the feeling I could have done more to help us make more for St. Jude.

I met some amazing people this year and I feel like I am going out on a high note. I know that there is always a possiblity that I can do another radiothon somewhere or that I can fly back for two days to do it here, but I am going to move forward with the thought that my days of doing this are through. Maybe it is just a coping mechanism.

El Paso has a few St. Jude patients we've had the pleasure to come to know. The first survivor I met, nine years ago, was TM. She was three when she was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. She was flown to St. Jude where treatment began immediately. Her mother, LM, would later learn that T was within hours of death. Today she is a healthy and amazing young woman who sings and has (last I had heard) eight little brothers and sisters. She has aspirations of making it big in a Christian rock band. I didn't get to see her this year, but I love her for showing me the heart of the hospital.

GO is another St. Jude patient. I've never had the chance to meet him. I know that he's been on with the station a few times in the last six or so years. He's gone back and forth in his treatment and had successes and setbacks, but he's still going and that makes him one of my heroes. Rumor was that he was getting a service dog this week. I am excited for him.

Today I met a little girl who is nine. I want you to know her name because I want you to know her. If you pray, I want you to pray for her. If you don't pray, I want you to contemplate goodness and wish it her way. Her name is Briana. In the early months of last year, she began to complain of headaches from time to time. Her mother, Maribel, didn't think it was much to be concerned about because kids sometimes get headaches. Before too much more time passed, her eyes began to cross, one at a time. Maribel took her to the doctor, who told her that she was fine and that there were no problems. Her next step was to see the eye doctor, who confirmed that there was a problem and she needed additional testing. She was admitted to the hospital immediately after the CT scan which revealed that she had not one, but two tumors in her brain. She was in the hospital for a few days here in El Paso, then she was transferred to Memphis to be treated at the main campus of St. Jude. She underwent thirty continuous days of radiation on her tumors and doctors introduced them to a new experimental chemotherapy. It didn't take long for her doctors to tell her mother that the tumors had matured and that one of them was at her brain stem. The location of the tumors makes them inoperable. That was April 2 and her doctors told Maribel that she had twelve to fourteen months to live. Now, because of the tumors and their relationship to her nervous system, she is having problems with simple things like speaking and writing and walking. She is in the third grade. She travels to Memphis twice a month to receive treatments. She loves Hannah Montana and painting. She wants to sing on American Idol. And, April 2 marks one year from her diagnosis and prognosis. She has an eighteen year old brother who is in college and wishes he hadn't told her to scram from his room so much. She has a little sister who is eighteen months old. When Briana has a hard time walking, her little sister, who is just a baby herself, will come to her and take her hand and try to help her walk. She also gently rubs her big sister's head. Briana believes she is going to get better. The doctors told Maribel to make their days happy. Maribel doesn't cry much any more because she wants her days to be happy.

Later tonight I met a five year old boy named SR. He has a scar on the back of his head that could have just as easily have happened by wiping out on a Big Wheel as it could have from brain surgery, but he had the latter. He was seventeen months old when his mother (who was sixteen at the time) noticed that he had stopped walking when he had been just learning to run. He had become lethargic and always seemed to be battling nausea. When she took him to the doctor they knew right away that there was something seriously wrong. Doctors in El Paso took his tumor out and then sent him to Memphis. He was in remission by his second birthday. He didn't much care that I wanted to talk to him. He was eating a huge green popsicle.

That is why I do this. I know that there are those who survive and that some will not, but every one of these kids has a story worth hearing. They deserve a chance to make their mark in this world. They deserve to be well, to grow up, to make their own joy and make their mark in their own way. If you called and made a pledge today, I thank you with all that I am. Your generosity makes St. Jude possible. If you listened today, I want to thank you as well. Just by listening, you know more about St. Jude and what it can do for a child in need. You now have the power to share that knowledge with others. That is power in your hands. Use it if you have the chance.

I love you for giving me the chance to do this for the kids of St. Jude.

Currently listening:Celebration of Life: Musicians Against Childhood CancerBy Various ArtistsRelease date: 2006-04-18