You never stop worrying

I am the parent of two adult children. My son is 25, my daughter 23. If you remember my last post, I talked about not sleeping well, and in part I blamed it on worrying about my children.

On Friday, right after I wrote that blog, my son sent this cryptic text:
"I'm fine but Black Betty is no more."
Black Betty is the name of his Nissan Versa. He went on to tell me that he was run off the road by weather/brake slamming all around him, and went head-on into a tree. The airbag and seatbelt did their jobs and he escaped with very minor injury (a bumped knee, some soreness from the seatbelt, and a minor burn from the airbag). He was checked out and released to work, where he went on to climb on top of the fuselage of a C-17, some 30 plus feet in the air. Is it any wonder that I worry?

My daughter, however, made my day on Friday by learning that she was offered a position with a company that had to weed through 52 applications for this one job. Her joy became mine.

Oddly enough, despite worries about my son, I got 10 decent hours of sleep on Friday night. The relief of my daughter's news, coupled with the relief that my son wasn't injured, trumped the worry.

At least for now. I'm sure I'll find something new to worry about in a day or two.

I'm really tired

I have a lot of trouble sleeping these days, thanks to a kaleidoscope of reasons. I have sleep apnea and have used CPAP quite successfully since 2005...until recently, when it no longer seems to be working. That's usually a sign that the pressure that is delivered must be increased. I have taken steps to deal with that but I'm fighting against a medical equipment company that cannot seem to get things right. First, they insisted that it was the type of mask and switched me from a nasal mask (covers just the nose) to a full-face mask that covers nose and mouth.

It didn't work. I didn't sleep well and the fam reported that I was snoring with the mask on.

Called the doctor about getting the pressure increased but of course he had to "see me" first. He agreed that I might need higher pressure and ordered an auto-titrate 2 week trial. The auto-titrate machine sets the pressure according to your needs by sensing obstruction or apneic periods. The first machine they gave me made high pitched moaning noises with each breath in and each exhale. 2 nights, no sleep. They brought a new machine out 2 days later and I settled in for what I hoped would be a good 2 weeks.

Silly me.

Remember that full-face mask? Turns out that it is difficult to keep it sealed under higher pressures. The respiratory therapist at the medical equipment company told me that almost scornfully, as if to say, "silly woman, don't you know that?" And so I pulled out my old mask. I slept fairly well for 10 nights with some mask issues (leaks, pressure on my nose, etc.) and then attempted to return the auto-titrate machine for analysis. It had a computer card that recorded the pressures that it delivered according to my needs. I called to confirm pick up and it took several days before they finally picked it up. More delay in treatment.

When they picked it up, I noticed that the physician listed as my PCP was instead the orthopedic surgeon who fixed my ankle 4 years ago. This has been an issue- whenever I call, they ask me if Dr. K is still my PCP and I tell them, every time, that no, Dr. M is my PCP. I called AGAIN and they promised once again to fix the data in their database.

I called my doc to see if they had received the report and if I would indeed need a pressure change. Guess what? They didn't get the report. Guess who got the report? The orthopedic surgeon, who really doesn't care about my sleep apnea, and probably doesn't even remember who I am anymore.

Through all of this, I am still not sleeping. I'm back to using my machine with inadequate pressure and leaky masks. I'm back to snoring through my CPAP. Most of all, I'M TIRED AND CRANKY. I'm fighting with restless leg/arms (my body does that in an effort to wake me up and breathe), worrying because my son will deploy to the Middle East next month, missing my husband who is working in Cleveland during the week, and concern because my daughter is having trouble finding a job. I do a lot of praying.

Who can sleep with all of that?

Telephone Etiquette

Sorry I have been absent for awhile. Busy.

Yesterday I read an excellent blog about clothing... check it out at http://www.thesquirrelfactor.com/2010/11/get-grip-on-your-wardrobe-people.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheSquirrelFactor+%28The+Squirrel+Factor%29

In the same spirit, I want to discuss telephone etiquette.

I love my cell phone. It is a wonderful thing. I rarely use my home phone, preferring the portability and privacy of my cell phone. I don't actually make many calls because for some reason I have developed a real aversion to talking on the phone, but some calls are unavoidable. In those cases, please observe the following "suggestions" when using your phone.

1. If you know that our phone call will be short, do my the courtesy of turning down the TV/radio/mp3 player and give me your full attention. I'm often calling about something that will take up less than 5 minutes of your time, but it is irritating as hell to try to talk over the TV/radio/mp3 player.

2. If you know that our phone call will be short, please put down the iron/vacuum cleaner/etc. See above.

3. Use of the speakerphone. It makes the call very awkward- I can't hear you properly, the sound cuts in and out, and ambient noise will trigger the speakerphone. If you can possibly avoid the speakerphone, please do.

4. This should be a given, but please turn your ringer off while you're in a quiet place. If you forget, and it rings, please hit a button to stop the ring. Don't pretend that it's someone else's phone. Some of those ringers go on and on and on and on.....

5. When you're not using the phone, take the Bluetooth out of your ear. You don't look cool.Sorry.

Please take these suggestions in the spirit in which they are offered. In other words, if you want me to like you, pay attention to these rules!!!!

I Can't

Lots of people, knowing I am a NewYorker, want to hear my thoughts abbot the 9/11 anniversary. The truth is, I cannot write about it today. Even nine years later, I am raw. You can read my story about someone who was caught in the North Tower and barely escaped. And I hope to write about this but I cannot, not today. Even trying to think about what I would write is making me feel the same loss and anger and outrage that I felt that day and for so many days after.

Sorry.

So you know- no one's paying ME.

Note to the Speaker of the House:

Mrs. Pelosi,
I hear that you want to waste time and taxpayer dollars to find out who is "funding" the opposition to the mosque in NYC. Just wanted to assure you, no one is paying me. I am speaking out, free of charge, although if I can get paid for it, fool on me.

Just one question- is opposition against the law? And another question- is this not a free speech issue? You're really strong on that free speech stuff, at least when it comes to the rights of Muslims to practice their religion. Just saying.

Mrs. P, you and your colleagues have successfully abolished any mention of Christianity in public. Christmas has become a winter festival. Easter is a springtime celebration. Jesus' name and countenance have been ripped down or covered up so as to not cause offense. You've taken a line from the Federalist papers about separating church and state and ruthlessly excised Christianity from the public forum. Why are you showing favor to the religion of Islam? What happened to equal treatment under the law? Understand, I'm not asking that Islam be stripped from the public eye. I'd be happy to keep it out there, as long as Christianity is allowed to reappear.

I wonder if there would be howls of opposition from Congress if a Christian group wanted to build a church near Ground Zero. Oh wait- a Greek Orthodox church was destroyed when the twin towers fell on it. They've been seeking funding and aid to rebuild. They're not getting anywhere. Perhaps they should change their name to Cordoba Church.

It's More Than a Story

In November of 2001 I attended the wedding of one of my husband's colleagues. I was reluctant because I wouldn't know very many of the other guests, and because I heard that the people I did know were going to be seated at another table. As we took our seats and looked around at each other, the groom came to our table and introduced a gentleman who sat across the table. He was a thin man, dark haired, with huge dark circle beneath his eyes. He looked...beaten. Worn. He looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. I could see that it was an effort for him to be around so many people. I'll call him, John, although that's not his real name. The groom said, "Donna, you and John should get along. You're both New Yorkers."

We began to talk about NY and as this was only 2 months after 9/11, the conversation naturally turned in that direction. Just like after Pres. Kennedy's assassination, it was common to ask where people were when they heard about the attacks. When I asked John he looked down, then up, and said, "I was in the first building that was hit." He worked in the WTC and was standing at the copy machine, getting ready to start copying notes for a meeting on the 12th (a meeting that the groom was to have attended). He said that in one second that was both incredibly long and incredibly short, the building leaned to one side and then snapped back, throwing him across the room and into a pile of fallen furniture and books. The noise, he said, was deafening. Destruction. Screams. Fire. Air rushing. Glass breaking. He could hardly breathe because the air was filled with dust and debris. He began helping his fellow office workers, digging them out of piles of rubble, bandaging injuries, finding water, comforting where he could.

Through it all, his boss was in communication with people outside the building. He didn't tell John or anyone else just how grave the situation was, just that an airplane had crashed into the building and that it was time for them to evacuate. The boss supervised as folks began heading for stairwells and exits and he encouraged them all, John included, to get down the stairs and get out of the building. He was going to go up a few floors to see if there was anyone who needed help. John argued with him for a few minutes but finally left, half-carrying a woman with terrible cuts on her legs.

It was a long trek down a stairwell that was dark and filled with choking dust and dirt. People streamed down the stairs; some were quiet, some were sobbing, others appeared calm but with an air of desperation. As they were going down they passed some of NY's finest police officers and fire fighters as they were heading up. John tried to ask them to look for his boss, but he knew even as he asked that the rescuers were looking for everyone, not just one person.

John said that as they approached the last couple of floors, the air pressure suddenly changed and the dust began moving very rapidly. There was an accompanying roar that was deafening. He says he doesn't remember much after that, just picking up his female colleague and running like hell. He barely made it out and away from the buidling as it collapsed behind him. He knew that his boss couldn't possibly be alive.

John spent that night in someone's apartment. After leaving his colleague with EMTs he began to walk, not even knowing why or where he was going. A kind stranger brought him into his apartment, gave him water and tried to convince him to go to a hospital. John was relatively uninjured, just some cuts and bruises from being thrown across the building, but his lungs were filled with dust and he was having trouble breathing. He eventually went to the hospital and spent a couple of days having his lungs treated.

When the politicians and the media moguls start to bloviate about "rights" and reconciliation and moderation, when they say there is nothing wrong with building a mosque so close to Ground Zero, when they say that America brought this on itself, I see John's face. I hear his rasping voice, damaged by all the garbage he breathed in that day. I see the dark circles, a result of not sleeping more than an hour or two at a time because he woke up in terror as he re-lived that day, night after night.

I don't know where John is now. But I will never forget him. Or that day.

Revelations

I've been working full-time for 8 years now- prior to that I was home, raising and home-schooling my kids and working part-time for my church. Before THAT I worked full and then part-time as a nurse at various places in Pittsburgh. In my adult life I have worked as an ICU nurse, a critical care float pool nurse, long-term care charge nurse, long-term care nursing supervisor, long-term care assistant director of nursing, director of wellness at a personal care home, vaccine research nurse, clinical documentation specialist, communications director at church (8 hours a week to do the weekly bulletin and prayer list), and an after-school program teacher.

I now find myself in a completely different industry. Talk about culture shock!!!! With the exception of the church jobs, all of my jobs have been in healthcare. I've worked in hospitals large and small, private nursing homes, county nursing homes, non-profits, for-profits, but always healthcare. I became accustomed to being treated a certain way by both supervisors and institutions and I accepted what some would consider abuse at the hands of co-workers and the afore-mentioned institutions. I have worked around people who use swear words as casually as regular, and people who don't respect you for your talent, experience, and/or education. And that applies to supervisors as well as co-workers.

I now work in a place where in the past two weeks, I have not heard a single swear word. I have not had anyone get in my face and tell me off. No one has threatened me in any way (you think that doesn't happen in the workplace? You'd be surprised. I once had a registered nurse threaten my life and job). I don't have to dodge cigarette smoke all day. The work environment is comfortable- good ambient temperature, nice office, lots of equipment. No one is watching and waiting for me to screw up. My brains and degrees are respected. One of the bosses asked if our operational chart could be made "more fun." No one is breathing down my neck and plotting behind my back. There is no gossip mill.

Is this the norm? I wouldn't know, because this is the first time I've worked in the private sector. My only reference point is my husband's office, which also seems like a pleasant place to work. How sad is it, that I had to move into a completely different field in order to feel appreciated by co-workers and supervisors?

NYers: Have You Lost Your Minds?

I'm writing as a NY native who watched the World Trade Centers being built, and then watched in horror as they fell to a terrorist attack. Losing those buildings meant something different to me- yes, I mourned the loss of the people inside. Yes, I know people who were in the buildings when they were hit. Yes, I was outraged by the entire attack. But there was something more personal to me. When I was a kid, we would take our houseboat up the Hudson River and watch the construction of the towers. Watching those buildings going up defined a part of my childhood. They were a part of my personal history. When they were destroyed, it destroyed a piece of me.

I heard today that Gov. Patterson is joining Mayor Bloomberg in support of building an Islamic mosque and center in a location just 200 yards from the site of ground zero. They blather endlessly about reconciliation and forgiveness, and not to tar all of Islam. Gentlemen- Have You Lost Your Minds? A mosque, a representation of Islam, does not belong anywhere near ground zero. Have you noticed that mosques are always built in areas of conquest? Please don't make ground zero a triumph of Islamic conquest!

Sinking to the lowest common denominator & other randomosities

Why is it that man (woman, person) will always sink to the lowest common denominator when they think no one is looking? The obvious answer is sin nature, but even culturally, I am still amazed when people strive for mediocrity rather than excellence. We should want to do a good job at all times, not just when we think someone is watching us. Don't people want to take pride in what they do anymore?

I am watching the destruction of health care "as we know it" in Pittsburgh. This latest hospital downsizing/closing is a marker of changes in the industry, even ahead of "Obama-care." Or perhaps it is the beginning stages of it. As a nurse, it concerns me. As a health care consumer, it terrifies me. Choice is being eliminated for both consumer and health care provider. As a nurse, if I want to work in acute care, I have basically 2 hospitals in the city that just happen to have a lot of geographical points. One hospital is a behemoth and the other is a crumbling mess. One is known for paying poorly, and the other is known for being a financial mess. Neither one is serving the people of the city and its suburbs. As a consumer of health care, I am told where I can go and who I can see by some bureaucrats at the insurance company. Wealthy. Bureaucrats. Who probably have never even been to Pittsburgh and don't have a clue about what I want or need. And now these hospitals are the next level in the dictatorial ladder, telling me which hospital in their "system" I have to go to based on my particular health concern. Heart problems? Hospital #1. Having a baby or gyne issue? Hospital #2. Live in the suburb and have to go to the ER? Whoops, we closed hospital #3's ER and Hospital #2's ER is closing soon.....

I'd better go to bed before I get too riled up.

Contact Lenses

It's 2010 and why is this still such a problem???? I've been wearing contact lenses since 1973, when soft lenses had to be boiled and they turned yellow after a couple of months due to enzyme build up. I've worn soft lenses, hard lenses, and gas-permeable lenses. I've worn glasses since first grade and while technology has made glasses thinner and less disfiguring, they're a pain to wear.

I'm nearsighted- my prescription in glasses is -11.75 and in contacts, -10.50. Until very recently, soft lenses above -10.00 didn't exist, and in those higher numbers, the lens increments were in halves instead of quarters. While I agree that there are fewer of us in those lofty numbers, why are we not afforded the ability to correct in quarterly increments like our less visually-challenged friends?

The best thing that happened for me was the contact lens that you can sleep in. Waking up and being able to see without fumbling for glasses is phenomenal. Unfortunately, they only came in a -10.00 and I walked around feeling as if I was missing something, because I was under-corrected. Dilemma- do I get glasses to go over top of the contacts, to give me sharper vision for driving and other long-distance activities? Or do I just live with it?

At my last eye doc visit, to my great joy, I discovered a contact lens in my prescription of -10.50. I can sleep in these, too, but they have to come out once a week. A small price, I thought, until.....I put them on and tried to read. NOW I need reading glasses and computer glasses. But I can see! Mostly. With this season's high pollen count, I can see just fine, through the haze of eye gunk produced by the allergies. I have never had to clean off my lenses this much in my life.

Last week I tried wearing -10.00s again, just to see if I was happier with the new system and its drawbacks. Neither system is perfect, but I guess I prefer being able to see long-distance, even if it means I need to wear reading glasses.

It's too bad that LASIK surgery cannot be done at my prescription level. My eye doc told me that the best option for people like me is the intra-ocular lens implant that is used after cataract surgery, but that's not FDA approved for those of us with soda-bottle bottom glasses.

Just an intro.

Why Momma Donna? I collect children, mostly adult children, who need some extra mom love. I have lots of "adopted" young adult kids- my own kids, plus some special ones like Becky, Chrissy, Holly N, Hannah, Sarah W, and another Becky. Then there are my own kids, Daniel and Caitie.

I am a nurturer, so it's no surprise that I'm a nurse. And the best place for a nurturing nurse who happens to be 51 years old, slowing down, but still wants to be involved, is to work in long-term care. I have a management/clinical position in a nursing home that lets me do a lot of loving without injuring my already bashed up spine.

I nurture my hubby (I do NOT mother him). He is the most important human in my world. He is easy to please and it brings me great joy to please him. If I do something that hurts or bothers him, I beat myself up over it for days.

I nurture 3 very different cats. The only thing they share is complete dislike of each other, which makes me sad, because I got multiple cats to keep each other company. Mia, our first kitten, was a sweet and playful kitty until....Nicky, an adult cat, came into the picture. Mia became aloof and stand-offish and remains that wasy to this day. Nicky can only be described as ungainly, adorable, and yet annoying. Sydney is the eternal kitten and she was the last kitten to leave the WPHS to become a member of the household. She's around 6 years old but acts a lot like a kitten, which is especially endearing because she is as fat as a tea cozy and as graceful as someone whose feet are stuck in buckets.

Lots of folks blog and I like to write, so I'll try this out for awhile, and see what comes of it. Welcome, to anyone who stumbles here and decides to follow the life of an overweight, overworked and yet overloved Mamma.