I hate TV.
No. Wait. I take that back. I don't hate TV, I hate commercials. I hate that they make me feel like I can't make a decision on my own. If it weren't for them telling me what products to buy how would I know? Its like they're telling me I have no brain of my own and I must follow what ever direction they tell me to. Shenanigans.
I do dig the magic picture box though. Its mysterious shape and funny knobs and buttons were a fascination from the start. I remember being at a friend's house when I was about 8 or 9 and the TV was on in the sun room. I could hear the laughter from the TV audience in the background of some game show. While my friend tried to pull me towards the game room where we would play dress-up or make up dance routines while listening to her Dad's old LP's of Beatles music (Rocky Raccoon was my favorite), my body was being drawn to the sun room like a gravitational pull. Some kind of cosmic connection unknown to me was urging me to sneak a peak in that room and see what was happening on the TV.
Fortunately I spent more time playing dress up than I ever did staring into the magic picture box (which by the way is a nickname my family came up with eons ago to describe TV, we've used it ever since.). Nope, instead of I Love Lucy or The Facts of Life I got the likes of; C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert Burns and Garrison Keillor. Not quite the same experience but looking at it now, I very much appreciate the extra effort from my parent's to educate us like that.
Don't get me wrong when I was a kid I wanted a TV. Bad. I'm sure I drove my parent's nuts wishing and dreaming for a magic picture box of our very own. I couldn't help but feel as though I was missing out on something wonderful. A mystical magical place where the characters came alive and almost jumped out at you. Its a different kind of joy to watch the story happen than to imagine it in your head. There seemed to be nothing more exciting and sintilating than those stolen moments here or there when I was allowed to enjoy a program. Usually things like Reading Rainbow or anything on the Discovery channel were granted permission. But Saturday morning cartoons at my Grandparent's were like a super stickey sweet treat. In a word; awesome.
At some point, and I'm not sure when or who decided to give this a whorl, but at some point my parent's figured out how to hook up a VCR to a Computer Monitor which then gave us the ability to watch movies. Heaven. This opened a whole new world to me and it was everything I could do to contain my desire to pop in yet another video. A few Todd family favorites? Check this out - Space Balls, The Princess Bride, Full Metal Jacket, Apocolypse Now. What? Yes that's right, my uber strict parent's with their crazy TV rules were totally cool with these random movie selections. They are in no particular order here, and not the only movies we had around the house...Just a few that I will always think of as movie's I grew up on.
The other day my brother, sister and I shared a brief moment together in regards to Space Balls and it put such a smile on my face. It was like we three just went there together. Went back to that place where we can share a knowing smile about our unique relationship with the magic picture box.
Nowadays TV has lost some of it's luster. Our lives are so inundated with technology that it can often feel like sensory overload to me. I find myself having to tune out, unplug and disconnect to catch my breath. Come to think of it, there's probably an App for that. For me, the worst part of TV is not the enormity of bad programming clogging the prime time slots, but rather the ridiculous amount of commercials zipping past at a million miles an hour screaming at you what to wear, what to listen to, what ailments you might have and what remedies you cannot live without. If one more money grubbing company tries to get me to buy a Snuggie I'm going to freak out.
Even though I hold a lot of angst towards the marketing companies shoving their agenda's down my throat I still love a good TV show. I caught a show on the Science channel about a month ago that completely blew my mind. It was about how galaxies and stars are formed. For a couple weeks I kept bringing it up with my husband. I haven't really stopped thinking about it, the cool thing is that this show actually had that affect on me. It made me look at the world from a different perspective and made me ponder things I never really had before.
So no. I guess I don't have TV. You could say I've had an on going love affair with TV my whole life. A confounding relationship where one moment I want to throw the damn thing out and moments of mind expanding pleasure. I don't know whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that I had very limited access to the magic picture box growing up. Did it make me want it more or less? Some days it's hard to tell but here's hoping it's the latter.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
She Doesn't Live Here Anymore
The loop. Who's in this thing anymore? When I made the decision to move out of my home state I quickly realized that the Loop is a tempremental mistress who will leave you as quickly as she came. When you've been a part of the Loop for such a long time it can be hard to be forced to break away from it's comfort. Even with such social networking sites like Facebook where everyone you've ever known comes to chat together - the Loop is just out of your grasp.
I've lived away from Detroit a few times in my life but nothing as permanent as my current situation. And yet I'm having a hard time making this new state feel like a home. Even though that's exactly what it is; my new home. Assimilating into a new community can be tricky business. If you haven't done very much home work on your new town (like me; who has time to research their new city? Just go with it.), how do you know the best neighborhood to move to? How do you know what restaurants are the best? What politicians to vote for? What area's of town to steer clear of? What companies are reputable to work for? My brain hurts just from thinking about all the things I never had time to do before moving here, all the things I'm slowly learning as the time away from my old Loop gets more expansive.
I know many of you moved away for college and never looked back. Some of you had to make hard choices to uproot your life for something better further away from your beginnings. A lot of you moved away when you were too young to have formulated a real strong bond with your home town and you probably found that it was relatively easy to acclimate yourself to a new life. I, on the other hand, moved away after already settling down surrounded by a wonderful core group of friends and family. My said Loop. But an opportunity arose that was too good to pass up. A chance to get out of a rut that had taken hold of my comfy life. A rut that I needed to bust out of as quickly as humanly possible; which turned out to be approximately 4 months. That's how long it took us to accept the offer to move, get our house sold and buy something new in a new town with new neighbors and new lives.
A new life. A fantasy of the statement is that you can reinvent yourself to be what ever you always pictured yourself to be. Maybe you were weighed down by the chains of home, too many people to call you out and say "Hey, that's not the you I know and love". Shenanigans. But really, you've taken up residence in an area where no one knows who you are so truly you could do what ever you wanted. Be whomever you wanted. Perhaps some of you have taken this route? Perhaps not.
I often felt like an imposter while looking out my new kitchen window over the first year or so after we moved here. When I would look out the window I could see all the freshly cut grass and nicely gardened yards. The kids would play on the many backyard jungle gyms scattered from house to house, laughing and carrying on. All the neighborhood Men would grill in the summer and the Women would gather to chat about this or that. But I always felt as if the neighborhood police would come banging on my door and call Shenangian's on me. They'd see through my two story, four bedroom home and find out that I'm really just a home girl at heart who stepped out of Detroit for a chance at something better. They'd see right through this persona of small town conventional girl to the heart of me; big city sass with delusions of grandeur. They'd ask me to leave my quiet subdivision, but please make sure the yard has been freshly mowed before packing up. I was sure at any moment they would all see that this new life was something very fake and foreign to me. But they haven't. That's one thing you can count on from your friendly Indiana neighbors - Trust. A completely bizarre concept to me. I lived in Oak Park for 5 years and didn't even know my neighbor's name's to say goodbye to them when we moved. Seriously.
I've been struggling with this issue in various forms since the move almost 5 years ago. I can't really believe how long we've lived here, it's hard to fathom how the time flies. But I find that I measure time by the years that pass since our move. I know something has been at least 5 years ago if it occured while I was living in the Detroit area. Which ages me every time something comes to mind. It also reminds me how much life goes by without me being a part of it. Oh I've kept in touch with a few of you better than others and I think we're all to blame for that a little bit. Those of you who I speak to regularly can still bring out that spark of Detroit that resides deep within my personality. You can take the girl out of Detroit but you can never take Detroit out of the girl. And I appreciate those special moments we share where all inhibiton is thrown like caution to the wind and I get to remember what it was I loved about being from Detroit. But so many of you have become like mere acquaintances anymore and the bonds we once shared have become weaker over time, frayed and strained.
At first I tried very hard to cling to my roots, I got a Red Wings sticker and a Made In Detroit sticker for my car - an attempt to represent. I talk about my life in Detroit a great deal with my new friends and coworkers, I have nothing else to talk about. They all know how I feel about the traffic, the politics, the sports and the current state of the economy. I read the e-mags (Metro Times, the Idler) the e-newspapers (Free Press) the local e-TV news stations (Fox 2), I even streamed music sations live (WCSX, WRIF) for a while (I didn't know the local stations well enough) regularly just to stay apprised of the happenings. I read more about local Detroit topics than of my own community. I couldn't identify with anything happening here, it's all a blur of names I don't recognize and situations that mean nothing to me. I also made many trips back to Detroit to visit friends, family. I came for as many birthday parties, weddings, funerals, graduations, holiday's and just because's that I could afford. I began to feel obligated to show up for every event in an effort to remain present in your lives. Not forgotten. And also to remind myself of myself. I may have previously stated that when you move away you can put on any life you want. It was important to me not to let my core become lost in the melee of finding myself in this new place. Trying to figure out how I fit here. Where I fit in here.
I think I had an interesting, different and fun up bringing. My life was filled with a lot of travel, culture and fun. We didn't have TV to muddy the waters in our relationships, we were forced to talk to each other, interact with each other. Something I fear today's youth will know nothing about. Actual human contact. I was taught that marching to the beat of my own drum was my right and it was thoroughly encouraged by both parent's. By the time I was old enough to make a decision to join the ranks of the public school kids (previously being Home Schooled) blending in was beyond my comprehension. I thought everyone was out there being themselves and not concerned what other people thought of them. I thought people were open minded about who they associated with. Boy was I wrong. Public school turned out to be a mild nightmare at first, it took a couple years to get my bearings and feel comfortable with the friends I was making. I tried very hard to hold onto my quirks, the little things I did differently that set me apart from the rest of the kids. Most of you can attest that I was an interesting sort while in school. Subject to much ridicule and admiration (although the latter seems very far fetched) and somehow I managed to graduate with my head held high knowing more or less who I was. And having been accepted by my peers for being this person.
You may all be used to my odities but it's been tricky to find a way to make them fit here. Especially because I'm not a young carefree kid who doesn't give a shit what anyone else thinks anymore. Of course I have a better understanding of how the world works now. How adults interact with each other - what is appropriate, what is taboo. And while I am very proud of who I am, I found it increasingly more difficult to be that person anymore. I've found little ways to integrate my idiosyncrasies into my daily life but it's still a breath of fresh air to have a conversation with a friend from before. Someone who remembers me from before there was now. Those of you who have shared such intimate moments of true unadulterated honesty with me. You are so dear to me. Those memories so dear.
I think I felt that if I spent as much time back in Detroit as possible I could keep those memories fresh and they helped me feel safe. But I've come to realize that while I may live far way those moments are not lost and I am no less myself here than there. I still feel a horrible sense of guilt when I have to turn an invitation down but it's truly very unrealistic for me to continue on in this manner. At some point I have to let go and just free fall into this new life. Make it what I want and enjoy the new moments. While I slip further and further away from the Loop my hope is that I've left an indelible mark on your lives and that our paths will cross from time to time and we will share a private smile for what was and what shall never be.
I've lived away from Detroit a few times in my life but nothing as permanent as my current situation. And yet I'm having a hard time making this new state feel like a home. Even though that's exactly what it is; my new home. Assimilating into a new community can be tricky business. If you haven't done very much home work on your new town (like me; who has time to research their new city? Just go with it.), how do you know the best neighborhood to move to? How do you know what restaurants are the best? What politicians to vote for? What area's of town to steer clear of? What companies are reputable to work for? My brain hurts just from thinking about all the things I never had time to do before moving here, all the things I'm slowly learning as the time away from my old Loop gets more expansive.
I know many of you moved away for college and never looked back. Some of you had to make hard choices to uproot your life for something better further away from your beginnings. A lot of you moved away when you were too young to have formulated a real strong bond with your home town and you probably found that it was relatively easy to acclimate yourself to a new life. I, on the other hand, moved away after already settling down surrounded by a wonderful core group of friends and family. My said Loop. But an opportunity arose that was too good to pass up. A chance to get out of a rut that had taken hold of my comfy life. A rut that I needed to bust out of as quickly as humanly possible; which turned out to be approximately 4 months. That's how long it took us to accept the offer to move, get our house sold and buy something new in a new town with new neighbors and new lives.
A new life. A fantasy of the statement is that you can reinvent yourself to be what ever you always pictured yourself to be. Maybe you were weighed down by the chains of home, too many people to call you out and say "Hey, that's not the you I know and love". Shenanigans. But really, you've taken up residence in an area where no one knows who you are so truly you could do what ever you wanted. Be whomever you wanted. Perhaps some of you have taken this route? Perhaps not.
I often felt like an imposter while looking out my new kitchen window over the first year or so after we moved here. When I would look out the window I could see all the freshly cut grass and nicely gardened yards. The kids would play on the many backyard jungle gyms scattered from house to house, laughing and carrying on. All the neighborhood Men would grill in the summer and the Women would gather to chat about this or that. But I always felt as if the neighborhood police would come banging on my door and call Shenangian's on me. They'd see through my two story, four bedroom home and find out that I'm really just a home girl at heart who stepped out of Detroit for a chance at something better. They'd see right through this persona of small town conventional girl to the heart of me; big city sass with delusions of grandeur. They'd ask me to leave my quiet subdivision, but please make sure the yard has been freshly mowed before packing up. I was sure at any moment they would all see that this new life was something very fake and foreign to me. But they haven't. That's one thing you can count on from your friendly Indiana neighbors - Trust. A completely bizarre concept to me. I lived in Oak Park for 5 years and didn't even know my neighbor's name's to say goodbye to them when we moved. Seriously.
I've been struggling with this issue in various forms since the move almost 5 years ago. I can't really believe how long we've lived here, it's hard to fathom how the time flies. But I find that I measure time by the years that pass since our move. I know something has been at least 5 years ago if it occured while I was living in the Detroit area. Which ages me every time something comes to mind. It also reminds me how much life goes by without me being a part of it. Oh I've kept in touch with a few of you better than others and I think we're all to blame for that a little bit. Those of you who I speak to regularly can still bring out that spark of Detroit that resides deep within my personality. You can take the girl out of Detroit but you can never take Detroit out of the girl. And I appreciate those special moments we share where all inhibiton is thrown like caution to the wind and I get to remember what it was I loved about being from Detroit. But so many of you have become like mere acquaintances anymore and the bonds we once shared have become weaker over time, frayed and strained.
At first I tried very hard to cling to my roots, I got a Red Wings sticker and a Made In Detroit sticker for my car - an attempt to represent. I talk about my life in Detroit a great deal with my new friends and coworkers, I have nothing else to talk about. They all know how I feel about the traffic, the politics, the sports and the current state of the economy. I read the e-mags (Metro Times, the Idler) the e-newspapers (Free Press) the local e-TV news stations (Fox 2), I even streamed music sations live (WCSX, WRIF) for a while (I didn't know the local stations well enough) regularly just to stay apprised of the happenings. I read more about local Detroit topics than of my own community. I couldn't identify with anything happening here, it's all a blur of names I don't recognize and situations that mean nothing to me. I also made many trips back to Detroit to visit friends, family. I came for as many birthday parties, weddings, funerals, graduations, holiday's and just because's that I could afford. I began to feel obligated to show up for every event in an effort to remain present in your lives. Not forgotten. And also to remind myself of myself. I may have previously stated that when you move away you can put on any life you want. It was important to me not to let my core become lost in the melee of finding myself in this new place. Trying to figure out how I fit here. Where I fit in here.
I think I had an interesting, different and fun up bringing. My life was filled with a lot of travel, culture and fun. We didn't have TV to muddy the waters in our relationships, we were forced to talk to each other, interact with each other. Something I fear today's youth will know nothing about. Actual human contact. I was taught that marching to the beat of my own drum was my right and it was thoroughly encouraged by both parent's. By the time I was old enough to make a decision to join the ranks of the public school kids (previously being Home Schooled) blending in was beyond my comprehension. I thought everyone was out there being themselves and not concerned what other people thought of them. I thought people were open minded about who they associated with. Boy was I wrong. Public school turned out to be a mild nightmare at first, it took a couple years to get my bearings and feel comfortable with the friends I was making. I tried very hard to hold onto my quirks, the little things I did differently that set me apart from the rest of the kids. Most of you can attest that I was an interesting sort while in school. Subject to much ridicule and admiration (although the latter seems very far fetched) and somehow I managed to graduate with my head held high knowing more or less who I was. And having been accepted by my peers for being this person.
You may all be used to my odities but it's been tricky to find a way to make them fit here. Especially because I'm not a young carefree kid who doesn't give a shit what anyone else thinks anymore. Of course I have a better understanding of how the world works now. How adults interact with each other - what is appropriate, what is taboo. And while I am very proud of who I am, I found it increasingly more difficult to be that person anymore. I've found little ways to integrate my idiosyncrasies into my daily life but it's still a breath of fresh air to have a conversation with a friend from before. Someone who remembers me from before there was now. Those of you who have shared such intimate moments of true unadulterated honesty with me. You are so dear to me. Those memories so dear.
I think I felt that if I spent as much time back in Detroit as possible I could keep those memories fresh and they helped me feel safe. But I've come to realize that while I may live far way those moments are not lost and I am no less myself here than there. I still feel a horrible sense of guilt when I have to turn an invitation down but it's truly very unrealistic for me to continue on in this manner. At some point I have to let go and just free fall into this new life. Make it what I want and enjoy the new moments. While I slip further and further away from the Loop my hope is that I've left an indelible mark on your lives and that our paths will cross from time to time and we will share a private smile for what was and what shall never be.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Ok...But why are my arms numb?
As some of you may or may not know, I've had issues with lower back pain for years. It's chronic and thoroughly annoying. There has been no great injury or tramatic event that I can recall that would cause such a thing. I was pretty fairly active as a young kid and young adult so perhaps it's some type of sports injury come back to rear it's ugly head? Perhaps it's due to the many many nights I helped Rick "roadie" his heavy music gear around from place to place. Perhaps it's bad genetics? The Doctors can't tell me the reason and since I have no real idea why either I can't seem to point them in the right direction. Le sigh.
Also some of you may or may not know that I have a rather irrational fear of Doctor's, Hospitals, Clinics what have you. I become very anxious whenever I have an appointment for anthing and I very rarely have reason to actually go to the E.R. As they used to say in my family "if you aren't bleeding you're fine". My blood preasure tends to rise when I get closer and closer to an appointment and it truly makes no difference what I am there for. A head cold/strep throat? Sweaty palms. A blood test for health insurance? Racing heart. Gynocologist exam? Are you kidding me? Racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach etc. So it goes without saying that I am always anxious when I have an appointment with my Orthopedic Doctor, he's a very nice gentleman with kind eyes and a genuenly simpathetic outlook. The only thing I don't like about him is his handshake. My Dad tought me that you can learn a lot about the person by the grip of their hand when it shakes yours. My Doctor is rather wimpy. This is what I gather from his hand shake. He's a very tall gumpy sort of man, light brown/blond hair, big square glasses and this very unfortunate hand shake. Regardless I felt comfortable with him in every other aspect, and due to his very unthreatening persona I felt he was a good choice due to my irrational fear.
It was my husband who finally convinced me to have my back checked out. Either he was truly concerned for me, or else he was just sick of hearing me complain about it. So I finally got up the courage to schedule an appointment with my regular family practice doctor - a very different sort of man. My family practice doctor reminds me of Santa Clause; full head of white hair, a gray/white beard and a jolly figure. He's kind of short and I think he lost most of his bedside manner 40+ years ago after he started this profession. I'm not saying he's mean or anything, just very straight, no nonsense to the point, you're in and out of there in 15 minutes tops. His office is also very busy all the time, so perhaps he just doesn't have the time for niceties. Anyway, he did some X-rays and after seeing those suggested I go and see an Orthopedic Doctor with more experience in my particular area of need.
I've been seeing my Ortho doctor for about a year now and I've done every thing he's asked me to do. Physical Therapy for a while, medications, various home systems that come from physical therapy (EMPI), home calestetics, more medication, MRI (nerve racking but painless), EMG (nerve racking, literally, mildly painful, not as bad as I feard) and finally what we are trying now - Epidural injections of steroid. A quote from the Lumbar Epidural Injections hand book they gave me: "There may be even more pain at first" and "When to call the office; increased numbness in arms or legs". Well crap. I have been avoiding getting this proceedure done for a few months because I am a chicken shit. I was very afraid of what the shot would feel like and how my body would react to the injection. I am scared to death of pain, like a little girl is scared of the Boogie Man. But I had an epiphany and this is what made me decide to get it done; I've started really working out. Actually taking heathy living seriously and putting it into action to help change my life. A sort of New Year Resolution if you will. I decided my current choice of lifestyle wasn't working for me any more and I am now in a good head space to make a significant change.
Due to my new outlook on life I had started by working out approximately 30-45 minutes every other day, doing a combination of cardio and calestetics at my home. But I had a problem; both my Eliptical machine (which jars your hips back and forth) and doing standard sit-ups and crunches were creating a huge pain issue for me. It wasn't "oh I worked out and I'm sore" I know what that feels like. It was more "holy shit get that knife out of my hip!". Very accute to one side and as I built up my work out routine and it's frequency it got worse and worse to the point I was limping. Unable to lift my right leg the way I wanted to when I walked. It was pretty horrible. Pain scale was about a 7 on a scale of 1-10. 10 being the absolute worst pain you've ever experience and 1 being a fall on a fluffy pillow. I've had a 10 before. Actually it was more like a 15. I had an explosive head ache one day while at work. It came like a freight train out of no where, my head thumped so badly my vision was blurred. I was on the phone with my husband at the time and all he remembers me saying is 'oh my God my head, my head, my head". When it finally lost some of it's grip I drove myself home and headed to the E.R. fearful of what was causing this incredible pain (pain scale was approximately an 8). I get mild head aches from time to time - it comes with my job. But nothing like this. This was violent. It scared me.
The E.R. is no better for me than any other Heath Care location - racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach. Thankfully my husband was with me and held my hand the whole time. When they rolled me into the C.T. room all of the nurses were very nice to me - probably because my husband fixes said C.T. when it goes down so he knew them all. They kept the lights on low and gave me a wash cloth size towel to put over my eyes. It was sweet and I appreciated it. Later in my room the nurse was attempting to insert an I.V. of their special Migrane Cocktail, however she was having difficulty finding a vein that would cooperate. 4 pokes later she called in the "expert poker" nurse who got it in one try right on top of my right hand. They started to pump the medicine but something felt instantly wrong. My forearm became extremely cold, like numbingly cold, painful cold. I said "Oh my arm, my arm, what tha?" And the nurse said "that's just the medicine traveling up your vein". But I knew something wasn't right, what could I say though? She didn't understand what I was feeling and my head hurt so bad I couldn't articulate what was wrong. Slowly it started to fade and the actual migrane cocktail began to take it's sweet affect. I'm fairly certain it was a combinaton of Benedryl and Toradol and maybe something else? (You medical folks can fill in the blank). Well before long I was passed out sleeping off my discomforts.
When I woke, they unhooked me and gave me very specific instructions on what sysmptoms to watch for, they were afraid I had menengitis (sp?) due to it's sudden onset and lack of anything serious on the C.T. I refused the menengitis test (have you heard what's involved there??) and opted to head home feeling much better, albeit quite sore in my right arm. I remember that was Fourth of July weekend, the Friday before the holiday. That weekend we planned to have some friends over on the Sunday before the Holiday and bar-b-que some of my husband's famous ribs. It was also at the very end of some home projects we were working on, all we had left to do was finish cleaning the house from all the construction. I remember I soaked all the blinds in bleach that weekend and spent most of my time hunched over the bathroom sink scrubbing the dust off of them. Probably not a good idea since my arm felt like it was broken. BROKEN! Pain scale sailing far beyond anthing I had ever felt before. A possible 15 on the pain scale. My arm was red and very swollen and it was all I could do to manage and get through the weekend. After our friends had left (and after a mild kitchen mishap where I sliced a piece of flesh off my knuckle while shredding carrots for the salad.) I looked at my husband and said with a heavy sigh "I think we have to go back to the E.R. something is not right with my arm." And so we went. The P.A. who had attended to me two days earlier was working again and she said when she saw my name on the chart her heart sank because she thought I was back with more headache issues. To her surprise I held up my arm and asked her what the hell was wrong with me. She explained that what had happened was the Saline they used accidentally got pumped straight into my arm as opposed to the vein. Therefore my arm was swollen with Saline and it needed time to work it's way through my system. She gave me a script for anti-inflamatory and anti-biotics and sent me on my way. We spent the evening in the parking lot at the Walgreen's watching the fire works while waiting for the Pharmacy to finish up. I was advised to follow up with my Family Practice on the next business day, which unfortunately was on the following Tuesday due to the holiday break.
When I saw my Family Practice he advised me to get a brace for my wrist, gave me pain killers and a note to stay off work for a full week. He explained that if I used my hand too much I risked the saline causing a blood clot that could travel up my arm to my heart and causing severe damage. Thanks for freaking me out even more Doc. Anyway the point of the story is that this was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Somewhat similar to a major tooth ache (of which I've had a few, and something I do not wish on my worst enemy). So by comparison the pain I felt after working out quite a bit was not as bad as this, but still enough to make me stay off the Eliptical until I could see my doctor again and discuss my issues.
Very typical of any Doctor, when I explained my problem he said "Well if it hurts, don't do that." Something I grew up hearing my Dad say who is a P.A., however, unfortunately not very helpful. He then suggested getting traction done at Physical Therapy. But again, being the chicken shit that I am and hurting as bad as I was I was afraid to go. I was afraid it would make it worse and I was already limping and really couldn't handle anything like traction at the time. Now that I'm feeling more healed from that I may give it a try but it will depend on how this Epidural works out. My thoughts for finally going through with the shot was that maybe it would mask any hurt I feel while working out. I won't go all G.I. Jane on it, but hopefully it will allow me to continue this healthy change and eventually maybe I will have done enough that I won't need the shot. It's my hope anyway, it may be total flubber but it's helping me make it through.
So I scheduled an A.M. appointment for today, my arrival time? 7:45am. If you've read my previous blog you know I am not now nor will I ever be a morning person. Second downer? No eating or drinking for 6 hours before the appointment. I was so partched by the time the proceedure took place I was caughing a lot. I had a damn tickle in the back of my throat. Nothing to do but try and tough it out. So I've barely slept, and I'm dying of thirst and I'm about to go through with something that has scared the crap out of me for months. They took my blood pressure when I got there it was 115/75 which is a bit high for me. I've been trying to pay attention to these things as of late. I was clearly anxious. Thankfully my husband was with me yet again, he not only held my hand as we walked in, but gently kept his hand on my leg while I waited. He knew I was very nervous and was very sweet about it. He's a good guy.
When they took me back to the X-ray room where the proceedure was to take place I was trying to calm myself by taking deep breaths and staring at the ground. I could hear the nurses talking to me, telling me what they wanted me to do and what they were doing (lay on your stomach, scootch down, I'm going to lift your shirt up a bit and pull your pants down, I'm going to clean off your back, this will be cold...etc.) The Doctor talked me to briefly, he explained the proceedure to me and talked to me about my pain and where it was localized so he could pin point the best place for the injection. Due to the fact that my pain starts on the right side but gravitates to my left he thought two injections were in order. Yes. Two. One on each side. Did I mention they pulled my pants down to the bottom of my bottom? So my cheeks are just out there, getting cold and feeling insecure while two female nurses moved around me quickly and the Doctor began the proceedure.
Doctor: "One prick and it will sting and burn for a few seconds"
Me: "Ok" and then "Ouchhhhhhshhhit." Followed by me squeezing my eyes shut.
Doctor "And scan that" a pinch to my skin "And scan that" another pinch "And scan that" and then "Ok this is going to feel like pressure on your back and it will go down your leg"
Me: "Great." Eyes still pinched shut.
This repeated on the other side and then thankfully it was all over. The Doctor said it went nicely and they rolled me onto yet another gourney and offered me a soda. They knew I was thirsty as hell and I eagerly accepted the cold Pepsi. They had to take my blood pressure two more times before they would let me leave, I asked my husband to read it off to me the first time it went off 109/70, already more normalized. I was feeling better albiet quite numb. The nurse to checked me out asked me to rate my pain again but I couldn't on account of the fact that I couldn't really feel anything in my back at all. Just discomfort but nothing serious.
The drive home was a bit worse, I guess sitting like that didn't help anything but I started to feel more and more uncomfortable and every time I moved I felt a pinch of some sort near the injection site. Probably the band aid pulling my skin. I was told that I would need to take the day off of work to heal. But no one could tell me what it would be like, this recovery. No one from my Ortho Doctor to the Nurse specialist who scheduled the appointment to the nurses doing the actual proceedure could explain it in any way that made sense. When I told them I just felt weird they resonded by saying "until you've been through it, it's hard to explain what it feels like" Yea, no shit. Its like the worst kind of aching. My whole lower back just aches and aches. No position is comfortable; sitting, laying down, standing it all sucks and I find myself adjusting every few minutes. And yet, I'm still hopeful that this will help. Apparently it can take as long as 2 full weeks for the steroid to take full affect and for me to feel better (so much for instant gratification), and still, I'm hopeful. Maybe I'll be one of those people that gets results after only a few days. Here's hoping. So I've spent the day in varying degrees of pain and discomfort hopful that I will feel better tomorrow after I've had a chance to sleep it off.
After a flustered post on Facebook I received a call from my Dad (the aforementioned P.A. or Physicians Assistant) to discuss my proceedure and give me some advise on moving forward. I have always counted on my Dad for sound medical advice and I view his opinion in much higher esteem than any of the other doctors I have seen recently. He was not too keen on my having had the shot citing that it's only ever a temporary fix and can make the situation worse. He gave me some ideas for different types of physcial thereapy to try; Alexandria Technique, something that has been very affective for professional athletes and dancers. I am a former Highland Dancer and it's very possible I have a long standing injury as the style of dance is extremely aggressive and hard on your body. I will check it out, at this point I just want to do what ever I can to make my situation better. I need to get through my every day life without pain or at least reduced amounts of pain. I will give anything a shot at this point, hense the shot.
And so there it is. Some of my current medical conditions coming from the mind of someone uneducated in these things and hopful for things to get better.
Ok...But why are my arms numb? My arms feel like they fell asleep hours ago into some kind of coma that they refuse to get up from. Highly annoying. If it gets any worse I'll head back to the E.R. as suggested by my P.A. Father, otherwise I'll call the Doctor's office tomorrow and let them know the situation.
C'est la vie.
Also some of you may or may not know that I have a rather irrational fear of Doctor's, Hospitals, Clinics what have you. I become very anxious whenever I have an appointment for anthing and I very rarely have reason to actually go to the E.R. As they used to say in my family "if you aren't bleeding you're fine". My blood preasure tends to rise when I get closer and closer to an appointment and it truly makes no difference what I am there for. A head cold/strep throat? Sweaty palms. A blood test for health insurance? Racing heart. Gynocologist exam? Are you kidding me? Racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach etc. So it goes without saying that I am always anxious when I have an appointment with my Orthopedic Doctor, he's a very nice gentleman with kind eyes and a genuenly simpathetic outlook. The only thing I don't like about him is his handshake. My Dad tought me that you can learn a lot about the person by the grip of their hand when it shakes yours. My Doctor is rather wimpy. This is what I gather from his hand shake. He's a very tall gumpy sort of man, light brown/blond hair, big square glasses and this very unfortunate hand shake. Regardless I felt comfortable with him in every other aspect, and due to his very unthreatening persona I felt he was a good choice due to my irrational fear.
It was my husband who finally convinced me to have my back checked out. Either he was truly concerned for me, or else he was just sick of hearing me complain about it. So I finally got up the courage to schedule an appointment with my regular family practice doctor - a very different sort of man. My family practice doctor reminds me of Santa Clause; full head of white hair, a gray/white beard and a jolly figure. He's kind of short and I think he lost most of his bedside manner 40+ years ago after he started this profession. I'm not saying he's mean or anything, just very straight, no nonsense to the point, you're in and out of there in 15 minutes tops. His office is also very busy all the time, so perhaps he just doesn't have the time for niceties. Anyway, he did some X-rays and after seeing those suggested I go and see an Orthopedic Doctor with more experience in my particular area of need.
I've been seeing my Ortho doctor for about a year now and I've done every thing he's asked me to do. Physical Therapy for a while, medications, various home systems that come from physical therapy (EMPI), home calestetics, more medication, MRI (nerve racking but painless), EMG (nerve racking, literally, mildly painful, not as bad as I feard) and finally what we are trying now - Epidural injections of steroid. A quote from the Lumbar Epidural Injections hand book they gave me: "There may be even more pain at first" and "When to call the office; increased numbness in arms or legs". Well crap. I have been avoiding getting this proceedure done for a few months because I am a chicken shit. I was very afraid of what the shot would feel like and how my body would react to the injection. I am scared to death of pain, like a little girl is scared of the Boogie Man. But I had an epiphany and this is what made me decide to get it done; I've started really working out. Actually taking heathy living seriously and putting it into action to help change my life. A sort of New Year Resolution if you will. I decided my current choice of lifestyle wasn't working for me any more and I am now in a good head space to make a significant change.
Due to my new outlook on life I had started by working out approximately 30-45 minutes every other day, doing a combination of cardio and calestetics at my home. But I had a problem; both my Eliptical machine (which jars your hips back and forth) and doing standard sit-ups and crunches were creating a huge pain issue for me. It wasn't "oh I worked out and I'm sore" I know what that feels like. It was more "holy shit get that knife out of my hip!". Very accute to one side and as I built up my work out routine and it's frequency it got worse and worse to the point I was limping. Unable to lift my right leg the way I wanted to when I walked. It was pretty horrible. Pain scale was about a 7 on a scale of 1-10. 10 being the absolute worst pain you've ever experience and 1 being a fall on a fluffy pillow. I've had a 10 before. Actually it was more like a 15. I had an explosive head ache one day while at work. It came like a freight train out of no where, my head thumped so badly my vision was blurred. I was on the phone with my husband at the time and all he remembers me saying is 'oh my God my head, my head, my head". When it finally lost some of it's grip I drove myself home and headed to the E.R. fearful of what was causing this incredible pain (pain scale was approximately an 8). I get mild head aches from time to time - it comes with my job. But nothing like this. This was violent. It scared me.
The E.R. is no better for me than any other Heath Care location - racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach. Thankfully my husband was with me and held my hand the whole time. When they rolled me into the C.T. room all of the nurses were very nice to me - probably because my husband fixes said C.T. when it goes down so he knew them all. They kept the lights on low and gave me a wash cloth size towel to put over my eyes. It was sweet and I appreciated it. Later in my room the nurse was attempting to insert an I.V. of their special Migrane Cocktail, however she was having difficulty finding a vein that would cooperate. 4 pokes later she called in the "expert poker" nurse who got it in one try right on top of my right hand. They started to pump the medicine but something felt instantly wrong. My forearm became extremely cold, like numbingly cold, painful cold. I said "Oh my arm, my arm, what tha?" And the nurse said "that's just the medicine traveling up your vein". But I knew something wasn't right, what could I say though? She didn't understand what I was feeling and my head hurt so bad I couldn't articulate what was wrong. Slowly it started to fade and the actual migrane cocktail began to take it's sweet affect. I'm fairly certain it was a combinaton of Benedryl and Toradol and maybe something else? (You medical folks can fill in the blank). Well before long I was passed out sleeping off my discomforts.
When I woke, they unhooked me and gave me very specific instructions on what sysmptoms to watch for, they were afraid I had menengitis (sp?) due to it's sudden onset and lack of anything serious on the C.T. I refused the menengitis test (have you heard what's involved there??) and opted to head home feeling much better, albeit quite sore in my right arm. I remember that was Fourth of July weekend, the Friday before the holiday. That weekend we planned to have some friends over on the Sunday before the Holiday and bar-b-que some of my husband's famous ribs. It was also at the very end of some home projects we were working on, all we had left to do was finish cleaning the house from all the construction. I remember I soaked all the blinds in bleach that weekend and spent most of my time hunched over the bathroom sink scrubbing the dust off of them. Probably not a good idea since my arm felt like it was broken. BROKEN! Pain scale sailing far beyond anthing I had ever felt before. A possible 15 on the pain scale. My arm was red and very swollen and it was all I could do to manage and get through the weekend. After our friends had left (and after a mild kitchen mishap where I sliced a piece of flesh off my knuckle while shredding carrots for the salad.) I looked at my husband and said with a heavy sigh "I think we have to go back to the E.R. something is not right with my arm." And so we went. The P.A. who had attended to me two days earlier was working again and she said when she saw my name on the chart her heart sank because she thought I was back with more headache issues. To her surprise I held up my arm and asked her what the hell was wrong with me. She explained that what had happened was the Saline they used accidentally got pumped straight into my arm as opposed to the vein. Therefore my arm was swollen with Saline and it needed time to work it's way through my system. She gave me a script for anti-inflamatory and anti-biotics and sent me on my way. We spent the evening in the parking lot at the Walgreen's watching the fire works while waiting for the Pharmacy to finish up. I was advised to follow up with my Family Practice on the next business day, which unfortunately was on the following Tuesday due to the holiday break.
When I saw my Family Practice he advised me to get a brace for my wrist, gave me pain killers and a note to stay off work for a full week. He explained that if I used my hand too much I risked the saline causing a blood clot that could travel up my arm to my heart and causing severe damage. Thanks for freaking me out even more Doc. Anyway the point of the story is that this was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Somewhat similar to a major tooth ache (of which I've had a few, and something I do not wish on my worst enemy). So by comparison the pain I felt after working out quite a bit was not as bad as this, but still enough to make me stay off the Eliptical until I could see my doctor again and discuss my issues.
Very typical of any Doctor, when I explained my problem he said "Well if it hurts, don't do that." Something I grew up hearing my Dad say who is a P.A., however, unfortunately not very helpful. He then suggested getting traction done at Physical Therapy. But again, being the chicken shit that I am and hurting as bad as I was I was afraid to go. I was afraid it would make it worse and I was already limping and really couldn't handle anything like traction at the time. Now that I'm feeling more healed from that I may give it a try but it will depend on how this Epidural works out. My thoughts for finally going through with the shot was that maybe it would mask any hurt I feel while working out. I won't go all G.I. Jane on it, but hopefully it will allow me to continue this healthy change and eventually maybe I will have done enough that I won't need the shot. It's my hope anyway, it may be total flubber but it's helping me make it through.
So I scheduled an A.M. appointment for today, my arrival time? 7:45am. If you've read my previous blog you know I am not now nor will I ever be a morning person. Second downer? No eating or drinking for 6 hours before the appointment. I was so partched by the time the proceedure took place I was caughing a lot. I had a damn tickle in the back of my throat. Nothing to do but try and tough it out. So I've barely slept, and I'm dying of thirst and I'm about to go through with something that has scared the crap out of me for months. They took my blood pressure when I got there it was 115/75 which is a bit high for me. I've been trying to pay attention to these things as of late. I was clearly anxious. Thankfully my husband was with me yet again, he not only held my hand as we walked in, but gently kept his hand on my leg while I waited. He knew I was very nervous and was very sweet about it. He's a good guy.
When they took me back to the X-ray room where the proceedure was to take place I was trying to calm myself by taking deep breaths and staring at the ground. I could hear the nurses talking to me, telling me what they wanted me to do and what they were doing (lay on your stomach, scootch down, I'm going to lift your shirt up a bit and pull your pants down, I'm going to clean off your back, this will be cold...etc.) The Doctor talked me to briefly, he explained the proceedure to me and talked to me about my pain and where it was localized so he could pin point the best place for the injection. Due to the fact that my pain starts on the right side but gravitates to my left he thought two injections were in order. Yes. Two. One on each side. Did I mention they pulled my pants down to the bottom of my bottom? So my cheeks are just out there, getting cold and feeling insecure while two female nurses moved around me quickly and the Doctor began the proceedure.
Doctor: "One prick and it will sting and burn for a few seconds"
Me: "Ok" and then "Ouchhhhhhshhhit." Followed by me squeezing my eyes shut.
Doctor "And scan that" a pinch to my skin "And scan that" another pinch "And scan that" and then "Ok this is going to feel like pressure on your back and it will go down your leg"
Me: "Great." Eyes still pinched shut.
This repeated on the other side and then thankfully it was all over. The Doctor said it went nicely and they rolled me onto yet another gourney and offered me a soda. They knew I was thirsty as hell and I eagerly accepted the cold Pepsi. They had to take my blood pressure two more times before they would let me leave, I asked my husband to read it off to me the first time it went off 109/70, already more normalized. I was feeling better albiet quite numb. The nurse to checked me out asked me to rate my pain again but I couldn't on account of the fact that I couldn't really feel anything in my back at all. Just discomfort but nothing serious.
The drive home was a bit worse, I guess sitting like that didn't help anything but I started to feel more and more uncomfortable and every time I moved I felt a pinch of some sort near the injection site. Probably the band aid pulling my skin. I was told that I would need to take the day off of work to heal. But no one could tell me what it would be like, this recovery. No one from my Ortho Doctor to the Nurse specialist who scheduled the appointment to the nurses doing the actual proceedure could explain it in any way that made sense. When I told them I just felt weird they resonded by saying "until you've been through it, it's hard to explain what it feels like" Yea, no shit. Its like the worst kind of aching. My whole lower back just aches and aches. No position is comfortable; sitting, laying down, standing it all sucks and I find myself adjusting every few minutes. And yet, I'm still hopeful that this will help. Apparently it can take as long as 2 full weeks for the steroid to take full affect and for me to feel better (so much for instant gratification), and still, I'm hopeful. Maybe I'll be one of those people that gets results after only a few days. Here's hoping. So I've spent the day in varying degrees of pain and discomfort hopful that I will feel better tomorrow after I've had a chance to sleep it off.
After a flustered post on Facebook I received a call from my Dad (the aforementioned P.A. or Physicians Assistant) to discuss my proceedure and give me some advise on moving forward. I have always counted on my Dad for sound medical advice and I view his opinion in much higher esteem than any of the other doctors I have seen recently. He was not too keen on my having had the shot citing that it's only ever a temporary fix and can make the situation worse. He gave me some ideas for different types of physcial thereapy to try; Alexandria Technique, something that has been very affective for professional athletes and dancers. I am a former Highland Dancer and it's very possible I have a long standing injury as the style of dance is extremely aggressive and hard on your body. I will check it out, at this point I just want to do what ever I can to make my situation better. I need to get through my every day life without pain or at least reduced amounts of pain. I will give anything a shot at this point, hense the shot.
And so there it is. Some of my current medical conditions coming from the mind of someone uneducated in these things and hopful for things to get better.
Ok...But why are my arms numb? My arms feel like they fell asleep hours ago into some kind of coma that they refuse to get up from. Highly annoying. If it gets any worse I'll head back to the E.R. as suggested by my P.A. Father, otherwise I'll call the Doctor's office tomorrow and let them know the situation.
C'est la vie.
Friday, March 25, 2011
The Jetta with the GPS
Six o'clock in the morning comes early for me. My alarm starts it's low mumbling of radio music and slowly builds into a crecendo of ear piercing, base pounding tunes that I generally sleep through until my cat Molly jumps on my head as if to say "Wake Up!! My tender little kitty ears can't take it anymore!" and I blindly reach for the snooze button. I will hit snooze at least 4 times (sometimes 5) before I eventually roll out of bed. My husband does not understand this concept, he's perfectly happy to jump out of bed bright eyed and bushy tailed at the first sound of the alarm. My body on the other hand needs that 45 minutes of half sleep to slowly wake up. Due to my inability to rise when the alarm first begins it's charming march from octive 1 to octive 800, I invariably end up in a mad dash to get myself ready and out the door for work. I have my morning routine down to the minute - I know that if I'm not heading down my driveway by 7:38am I will be late for work.
When I head out the door I'm still a little sleepy - people say you should take a shower to wake up but the shower I take every morning does very little to help me get a move on it. My husband thinks I should wake up even earlier than 6:45am so that I can drink a cup of coffee to jolt myself into something resembling a living human being, but I cherrish my sleep way more than I enjoy predawn coffee. However, the lack of caffiene in my system is also a contributing factor as to why I am such a grouch in the morning. My husband will say all of one sentence to me every morning; "Have a good day honey, I love you." He knows it would be detrimental to his health should he engage me further that soon after I've woken up.
Its too bad that I can't have a sign on the outside of my car that reads: "Not a morning person, late for work, get out of my way". This simple sentence may advise the drivers near me that they should either put the petal to the metal or get the heck out of my lane or else I'll run you off the road! Here's the thing; Indiana driver's are NOTHING like Michigan drivers. Being from the Metro Detroit area you could say I learned how to drive with road rage...And I never really let that part of my driving skills go. Now, I've never been in an actual accident - in fact the only thing close was a mild fender bender where I barely bumped the car in front of me while sliding helplessly through a large puddle of water during a violent thunder storm; hardly my fault. I wasn't even speeding! It was rush hour and I was driving up Crooks Rd. towards 16 mile on my way to work. I wasn't even late that's how insignificant the whole thing was.
Since moving to Indiana I've seen more frightening accidents occur right before my eyes than I ever witnessed in Michigan. I saw an SUV get side swiped by an old 1980's style mini van (probably had some kind of metal frame) and the SUV flipped over so close to me that my car was splashed by the windshield glass exploding. I saw a Charger's tire blow out directly in front of me while driving down the highway and had to swerve to miss the oncoming flying rubber. There have been several near accident exposures over the years and so while I may have a bit of a lead foot and I tend to start screaming when some driver thinks it's ok to merge with oncoming traffic going 40 miles an hour, (which has become one of my bigger pet peeves) I am a safe driver, I swear. In Indiana the Interstate entrance and exit ramps are not very "driver friendly", you have a mere 30 to 40 yards after coming around the curve to get up to speed and merge with oncoming traffic. Oh and did I mention while you're trying to get on other drivers trying to exit are slowing down and squeezing into your lane to get off the highway on the same 30 or 40 yards of ramp. Not at all like in Michigan where there is much more distance between cars merging onto and off of the highway. To me, this is simply a recipe for disaster - no wonder I've seen so many accidents down here.
On to the point of the blog; the Jetta with the GPS is a car I have been stuck behind on numerous occassions while headed to work in the mornings. Jetta's are cute cars but for some reason I always view their drivers as somewhat pretentious, which probably seems like an oxymoron since Jetta's are rather petite unthreatening looking vehicles. It's just how I feel. The driver of this dark blue puddle jumper is short with a whole lot of curly dark hair, a sort of mop top if you will, and from what I can gather they appear to be female so we'll call the driver "she". I assume she lives near my subdivision because I always end up behind her only a mile from where I live, always on the same stretch of road. I deduce that she has a garage in which she keeps her beloved Jetta because I don't recall ever seeing it covered in snow or even spotted with snow. This is all the more annoying because I am unable to park my car in the garage (thanks to a workshop that currently inhabits every inch of my garage. Yes honey, I know it's important to have that shop, I know you've furnished our home with your hand crafted furniture...I'm just sayin'.), so in the winter months I have to get up even earlier than normal to allow time to warm up and clean off my car. And we all know how I feel about that.
As if her bright and shiny clean Jetta weren't annoying enough (jealousy in it's rawest form) she also has a GPS attached to her dashboard and it's always turned on. I know this because I can see it's glimmering screen and glossy maps through the slightly tinted windows. It's also especially illuminated in the morning as the sun hasn't risen yet so it's very bright against the dusky morning sky. Now maybe she has a job where she has to travel a lot to areas she's never been, maybe she's new to our town and needs a GPS to navigate the local streets, or maybe she's just lazy and wasting energy by leaving it on all the time. I'm not exactly sure why this bothers me, it just seems irresponsible to have your GPS turned on at all times. Regardless of her reasons, she drives the same route that I do every day so you'd think she would have it figured out by now and shut the darn thing off.
If that weren't bad enough, she clearly has no idea how to read speed limit signs or apply their suggestions to her own driving habits. This woman never drives more than 10 miles under the recommended speed. 10 miles! I can't even begin to tell you how frustrating this can be. Especially at 7:45am when I'm half asleep and in a rush to get to work on time. It's all I can do to hold back the urge to violate the passing laws down that particular stretch of road...speed up really fast and zoom in front of her in a purposeful effort to simultaneously cut her off, flip her the bird and give her the stink eye. Or ride her bumper until I can overtake the Jetta "Monster Truck" style. My little Equinox isn't exactly the biggest or scariest looking vehicle (She's a shade of faded red that is almost pink, so I named her Frenchie like the character from Grease) but when the Detroit road rage comes out of me I think Frenchie and I could totally take her. Although she probably wouldn't even notice if I did do any of these things, she always seems spaced out and very stubornly in her own little world where taking a Sunday cruise during rush hour is completely acceptable.
It's called "Rush Hour" for a reason and I don't think she gets it. She's probably a native to Indiana, and here in Indiana the stress of rush hour is quite different than it is in Metro Detroit. The drivers here are much calmer, less stressed and in no great hurry to get anywhere. When I drive back to Detroit I can literally feel my shoulders inch up into my neck and my knuckles go white the closer and closer to Detroit I get. Traffic gets more erratic and much faster. If you're not going at least 75 miles an hour in the slow lane you're getting run off the road. The speed limit on the highway here in town is 65 miles an hour, which feels like a slow crawl after driving in Detroit.
Not that it's necessarily a bad thing for the driving experience here to be so much calmer than in Detroit. In fact it's one of the qualities of this town that I appreciate the most. However, this is no reason for the Jetta driver to ingore the traffic laws with such disregard for her fellow travelers on the road. Doesn't she realize that we have places to go, time cards to punch and coffee to brew? She's starting to affect my morning mood now too. If I end up behind her I have to let out a heavy sigh and say to myself "this damn car again?" I suppose I could wake up 5 minutes earlier every morning and avoid the whole thing altogether.
Yea that's not gonna happen.
When I head out the door I'm still a little sleepy - people say you should take a shower to wake up but the shower I take every morning does very little to help me get a move on it. My husband thinks I should wake up even earlier than 6:45am so that I can drink a cup of coffee to jolt myself into something resembling a living human being, but I cherrish my sleep way more than I enjoy predawn coffee. However, the lack of caffiene in my system is also a contributing factor as to why I am such a grouch in the morning. My husband will say all of one sentence to me every morning; "Have a good day honey, I love you." He knows it would be detrimental to his health should he engage me further that soon after I've woken up.
Its too bad that I can't have a sign on the outside of my car that reads: "Not a morning person, late for work, get out of my way". This simple sentence may advise the drivers near me that they should either put the petal to the metal or get the heck out of my lane or else I'll run you off the road! Here's the thing; Indiana driver's are NOTHING like Michigan drivers. Being from the Metro Detroit area you could say I learned how to drive with road rage...And I never really let that part of my driving skills go. Now, I've never been in an actual accident - in fact the only thing close was a mild fender bender where I barely bumped the car in front of me while sliding helplessly through a large puddle of water during a violent thunder storm; hardly my fault. I wasn't even speeding! It was rush hour and I was driving up Crooks Rd. towards 16 mile on my way to work. I wasn't even late that's how insignificant the whole thing was.
Since moving to Indiana I've seen more frightening accidents occur right before my eyes than I ever witnessed in Michigan. I saw an SUV get side swiped by an old 1980's style mini van (probably had some kind of metal frame) and the SUV flipped over so close to me that my car was splashed by the windshield glass exploding. I saw a Charger's tire blow out directly in front of me while driving down the highway and had to swerve to miss the oncoming flying rubber. There have been several near accident exposures over the years and so while I may have a bit of a lead foot and I tend to start screaming when some driver thinks it's ok to merge with oncoming traffic going 40 miles an hour, (which has become one of my bigger pet peeves) I am a safe driver, I swear. In Indiana the Interstate entrance and exit ramps are not very "driver friendly", you have a mere 30 to 40 yards after coming around the curve to get up to speed and merge with oncoming traffic. Oh and did I mention while you're trying to get on other drivers trying to exit are slowing down and squeezing into your lane to get off the highway on the same 30 or 40 yards of ramp. Not at all like in Michigan where there is much more distance between cars merging onto and off of the highway. To me, this is simply a recipe for disaster - no wonder I've seen so many accidents down here.
On to the point of the blog; the Jetta with the GPS is a car I have been stuck behind on numerous occassions while headed to work in the mornings. Jetta's are cute cars but for some reason I always view their drivers as somewhat pretentious, which probably seems like an oxymoron since Jetta's are rather petite unthreatening looking vehicles. It's just how I feel. The driver of this dark blue puddle jumper is short with a whole lot of curly dark hair, a sort of mop top if you will, and from what I can gather they appear to be female so we'll call the driver "she". I assume she lives near my subdivision because I always end up behind her only a mile from where I live, always on the same stretch of road. I deduce that she has a garage in which she keeps her beloved Jetta because I don't recall ever seeing it covered in snow or even spotted with snow. This is all the more annoying because I am unable to park my car in the garage (thanks to a workshop that currently inhabits every inch of my garage. Yes honey, I know it's important to have that shop, I know you've furnished our home with your hand crafted furniture...I'm just sayin'.), so in the winter months I have to get up even earlier than normal to allow time to warm up and clean off my car. And we all know how I feel about that.
As if her bright and shiny clean Jetta weren't annoying enough (jealousy in it's rawest form) she also has a GPS attached to her dashboard and it's always turned on. I know this because I can see it's glimmering screen and glossy maps through the slightly tinted windows. It's also especially illuminated in the morning as the sun hasn't risen yet so it's very bright against the dusky morning sky. Now maybe she has a job where she has to travel a lot to areas she's never been, maybe she's new to our town and needs a GPS to navigate the local streets, or maybe she's just lazy and wasting energy by leaving it on all the time. I'm not exactly sure why this bothers me, it just seems irresponsible to have your GPS turned on at all times. Regardless of her reasons, she drives the same route that I do every day so you'd think she would have it figured out by now and shut the darn thing off.
If that weren't bad enough, she clearly has no idea how to read speed limit signs or apply their suggestions to her own driving habits. This woman never drives more than 10 miles under the recommended speed. 10 miles! I can't even begin to tell you how frustrating this can be. Especially at 7:45am when I'm half asleep and in a rush to get to work on time. It's all I can do to hold back the urge to violate the passing laws down that particular stretch of road...speed up really fast and zoom in front of her in a purposeful effort to simultaneously cut her off, flip her the bird and give her the stink eye. Or ride her bumper until I can overtake the Jetta "Monster Truck" style. My little Equinox isn't exactly the biggest or scariest looking vehicle (She's a shade of faded red that is almost pink, so I named her Frenchie like the character from Grease) but when the Detroit road rage comes out of me I think Frenchie and I could totally take her. Although she probably wouldn't even notice if I did do any of these things, she always seems spaced out and very stubornly in her own little world where taking a Sunday cruise during rush hour is completely acceptable.
It's called "Rush Hour" for a reason and I don't think she gets it. She's probably a native to Indiana, and here in Indiana the stress of rush hour is quite different than it is in Metro Detroit. The drivers here are much calmer, less stressed and in no great hurry to get anywhere. When I drive back to Detroit I can literally feel my shoulders inch up into my neck and my knuckles go white the closer and closer to Detroit I get. Traffic gets more erratic and much faster. If you're not going at least 75 miles an hour in the slow lane you're getting run off the road. The speed limit on the highway here in town is 65 miles an hour, which feels like a slow crawl after driving in Detroit.
Not that it's necessarily a bad thing for the driving experience here to be so much calmer than in Detroit. In fact it's one of the qualities of this town that I appreciate the most. However, this is no reason for the Jetta driver to ingore the traffic laws with such disregard for her fellow travelers on the road. Doesn't she realize that we have places to go, time cards to punch and coffee to brew? She's starting to affect my morning mood now too. If I end up behind her I have to let out a heavy sigh and say to myself "this damn car again?" I suppose I could wake up 5 minutes earlier every morning and avoid the whole thing altogether.
Yea that's not gonna happen.
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