Monthly Archives: August 2015

burning the midnight oil


Years ago as a young adult I remember when insomnia would strike me. Maybe it was from having caffeine too late in the day or maybe it was from medicine or maybe from worry. Either way, it was an occasional issue and I didn’t handle it very well. I remember lying in bed at night and crying, CRYING because I was so very tired and couldn’t fall asleep.

I don’t cry over it any more.

As a mid-lifer, middle age woman, however you want to phrase that, (I’m 42) I still have bouts of insomnia. Currently it’s from the medicine I have to take for pain. I have tried my very best to take as few as possible and I am doing very good with that aspect. However, I am still having considerable pain in the evening and needing pain meds, and simply dreading knowing that while I won’t be in pain, I will be awake. Last night was one such night. I had considerable pain and took my medicine around 10pm. I then lay in bed, eyes closed, the right temperature setting, fan blowing on low and otherwise very comfortable. I checked the clock periodically and saw as 12, then 1:20, then 2:30 and then 3:15 came and went. I was upset but not crying. I just couldn’t make my mind be still.  So what can I do? My natural tendency is to let my imagination run wild, but my natural tendency is also very sinful and I can spend considerable time imagining all sorts of disasters or illnesses coming on my family. Kids falling down stairs, getting run over by cars, diagnosed with terminal illness. Husband bored with me and wandering off and more. Oh my mind is a desperately wicked place! So I have to train myself, make myself, focus on good things. Find things to be thankful for, which for me isn’t very hard. I have a LOT to be thankful for. When I run out of that, then I start thinking over my list of friends or Facebook acquaintances who need prayer. And I pray. I pray for the ones in China on missions, I pray for all the pastors and their wives. I pray for the moms who are stressed, sick, dying. I pray for their children. I pray for the lost to find Jesus. I pray for Jesus to come! I pray and pray until I fall asleep. When I wake up, typically very very late in the morning after a night like this, I feel rested. I feel at peace. I feel all “prayed up”. I want to hug my kids a little tighter, find more things to be thankful for and as the day goes on, I pray a little more for those I’d already prayed for. “Such a time as this”. Maybe I was wide awake, for such a time as this.

Matthew 6:25-34 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

The Cure for Anxiety
25 “For this reason I say to you, [a]do not be worried about your [b]life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the [c]air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? 27 And who of you by being worried can add a single [d]hour to his [e]life? 28 And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, 29 yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! 31 Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ 32 For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But [f]seek first [g]His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be [h]added to you.

34 “So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will [i]care for itself. [j]Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Jeremiah 17:9 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

9 “The heart is more deceitful than all else
And is desperately sick;
Who can understand it?

Philippians 4:8 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

8 Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is [a]lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, [b]dwell on these things.

Psalm 100 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

All Men Exhorted to Praise God.
A Psalm for [a]Thanksgiving.

100 Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth.
2 Serve the Lord with gladness;
Come before Him with joyful singing.
3 Know that the Lord [b]Himself is God;
It is He who has made us, and [c]not we ourselves;
We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.
4 Enter His gates with [d]thanksgiving
And His courts with praise.
Give thanks to Him, bless His name.
5 For the Lord is good;
His lovingkindness is everlasting
And His faithfulness to all generations.

1 Samuel 12:23 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

23 Moreover, as for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by ceasing to pray for you; but I will instruct you in the good and right way.


the mad attacking rabbit hole


The Doctor asks me “So how did this happen?” I explain I had just been walking laps around my two acre yard, trying to get some exercise, lost my balance in a shallow hole and fell over. Snap crackle pop my bones were broken. He says “that’s it? that’s all you can come up with?” I say okay sure, yeah a rabbit attacked me, tried to eat my head off. He laughs, we talk about Monty Python and the exam continues, the surgery scheduled.
That’s the initial X’ray. I had a splint put on and was told I could have surgery right away with the local orthopedic surgeon, get a second opinion or seek out a “sub specialist” who’s “thing” is ankles and feet. I chose option three. For that I got to wait a solid two weeks before the actual surgery. Doctors like to take vacations after all. August 14 was my scheduled day. 1pm my scheduled time. I think I was actually started on around 4pm but that was okay with me. Good drugs can do that, make things okay that aren’t really, or make you not stress when otherwise you might. Last thing I remember was the plastic gas mask and “breath deep, breath deep.”
Two plates and eleven screws later and I was waking up. I remember asking how long did it take and had my husband been told that I was awake yet. I was told the surgery took only a little over an hour, everything went well and husband had been told I was awake and was waiting for me in my room where I’d be spending the night. 11836715_10206354802881806_7363466312832731552_n
It’s so interesting to see how different doctors do things. How my local ortho would have sent me home but this sub specialist kept me overnight. How some post op’s get into a soft boot or “air cast” after about 3 weeks but I won’t be in mine until 6 weeks post op. Anyway. I picked him for a reason and am trusting his work.
About 4 days post op I went in to have the plaster cast removed (plaster absorbs blood which is why my Dr. prefers it as the first cast) and my skin checked. I took a few gruesome pictures while I waited for the new cast to be put on. 11900067_10206376027612411_5456461958954563687_n outside right image. EWW. But I have it on good authority (Facebook comments) that this actually looks good considering what it’s been through.
Inside of right ankle. Hey he didn’t slice through my Ichthus tattoo!!
I count 27 stitches, and I’m sure there are more underneath those black beasts.
Next week I go in to get the stitches out and get yet another cast on. Right now it’s a baby blue color or “Carolina Blue”. I am thinking a bubble gum pink or Kelly green will be the color of the final hard cast before I am graduated to my air boot.
This is quite the long process of recovery, but not near as bad as some have it, and at the end of the day I’m still alive and kicking, well, alive and punching. No kicking for a little bit longer….

Breaking up with CVS


A few weeks ago I broke my ankle. I mean I really broke it. Two bones in three places. As my bff said, my legs are like metal detectors for shallow holes. I had surgery last Friday, and two plates and eleven screws later I am on the road to recovery. I opted for an orthopedic surgeon whose sub specialty is ankles and feet, and for me that meant a little bit of travel to and from the hospital and doctors offices for surgery and follow ups. A side effect of that is that the doctors have written me a LOT of prescriptions for my meds, because they don’t send out prescriptions without seeing the patient, and because I live far away, they know I can’t just pop in to get more meds prescribed. Anyway, all that to say that I had duplicates of prescriptions that I went to get filled today at CVS. One was written on Friday (day of surgery) and the second was written yesterday, when I went in for my follow up. The idea is that if I’m taking these meds at the maximum allowed amount (they are pain meds) I would go through one bottle in only 8 days. Okay. So I go to CVS and hand over both papers to the cashier at the “drop off” section of the pharmacy.  “Um, you want these BOTH filled?” me, “yes, save me having to travel out again please.”(in my head, WHY ELSE WOULD I BE HANDING YOU THEM BOTH??) her “Oh well let me see if I CAN.” She goes over to the pharmacist, who I know from the bank, a nice enough woman and I’m sure holds no ill intent towards me. I can hear them; “she wants them both filled? I’ll have to call the doctors office to verify this”. Let me back track and say that when  I saw the Doctor yesterday for my follow up, he INSISTED I take another prescription and that was AFTER I showed him I still had the one from Friday that I hadn’t yet filled. So he knew I’d be turning in two at a time. Okay, back to CVS. I’m standing there, crutches and all, my foot throbbing, as the pharmacist is now on hold with who knows who, trying to verify that these are legit scrips? I don’t even know what was the point of it. At some point I hear the cashier say “can she get the one and come back for the other when she needs it?” and I spoke up loudly, maybe a little bit of a yell thrown in “Just give me one and let me go home!” Why the pharmacist didn’t jump at this I don’t know. She stayed on the phone with the doctor for a few more minutes, me waiting, the pain starting to give me flop sweats and the poor boys looking for a chair for me to sit down on. Scott says (after my retelling of this story) that I am now on some FBI watch list as a person of interest. Yeah, I’m real interesting all right. But more than this, I just wanted to get my meds and go home and take one and put my leg up. Hallelujah thank you they finally got the ONE prescription filled, oldest first of course because that makes sense (they have to explain this to me like I’m a four year old who was recently bopped on the head by Mr. Bunny Foo Foo) and let me on my way. OH but , let me see your ID, make sure you are who you say you are (maybe that should have been done first??) and the 8$ bill was laid for me to pay. So why am I breaking up with CVS? Because Rite Aid fills this in half the time, half the questions AND at almost half the price. A nifty $4.25 was what I paid for the exact same thing a little over 8 days ago. In addition, Rite Aid is now closer to me than CVS, has more cosmetics offerings and their Plenti Card syncs up with Ibotta like a dream. It’s been nice knowing ya CVS, hasta la vista.