So, what am I thankful for this year….?
My wife. Those who know me know that she has to put up with a lot on a regular basis. However, when I injured my left foot earlier this year, a ton of extra stuff fell to her to take care of, and she’s been absolutely wonderful. I love you, sweetheart.
The little phisch. Our little man is a never-ending source of joy–and frustration, but that’s just part of parenting. That smile of his just lights me up any time, and his laugh is the best sound I’ve ever heard. He’s a gas to play with, and it never ceases to amaze me when I see his mind at work on something. Being his dad is the greatest job I could ever have, and has given me a larger appreciation of the love my own parents have for me.
My folks. I had a perfectly normal childhood. My parents, while strict at times, were never abusive in any manner, and I always knew I was loved. I grew up in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, with lots of other kids my age. My folks provided everything I needed, and more. They made sure I went to college without incurring a large financial debt. Since I’ve left the nest, they’ve been a source of encouragement and help in ways I never imagined.
My family. My sister, my grandmothers, my aunts, uncles, and cousins whom I’m lucky to see even once a year. We may not all talk often, and see one another even less, but it’s nice to know that when we do get together, after a few minutes of catching up, it’s pretty much just picking up from wherever we last left off. My life would be more shallow without them.
My friends. I have friends in this nation from coast to coast, and from the far north of the 48 states down to their southernmost. I am blessed to have quite a few right here in my little corner of the world, and more in many other corners. You have all enriched me in some way, and I’m thankful to know you.
The men and women of the United States armed forces. I’m proud to count members from the prior category in this one as well. Thank you all for your tireless sacrifice on behalf of the rest of us. You are never far from our thoughts and prayers. May those of you in the line of fire return home safely upon the successful completion of your mission. In the mean time, watch your six, and God bless.
God. You have made all things possible. You have blessed me in ways far beyond my understanding and worth. You offered Your own Son in my place, so that I might have a place in Your kingdom forever. I am humbled that You, the Creator of all things, would deign to know the number of hairs on my head, much less want to be my friend. All of the above things for which I am thankful are gifts from You, and I am eternally grateful.
Tag: that’s life
This past Thursday marked another check-up with my orthopedist. More poking and prodding. More x-rays were taken. (Still kind of cool to see the screw just sitting there in the middle of my foot.) The prognosis? Everything’s looking good, and I am free from walking with the cane.
Surgery for me to get “unscrewed” is scheduled for December 11th. I’ll go back in to the walking boot for a couple of weeks after that, then hopefully back in to regular shoes. Whether or not I’ll have to go back to assisted walking with the cane remains to be seen.
The screw-removal surgery came up this past Wednesday night at the sophomore guys Bible study I lead, and the guys were pondering what was used, exactly, to remove the screw? Was it some specialized, medical implement-only, seven thousand-dollar, cordless drill-type device? It’s not as though they’d just jam a Black & Decker Philips head in there and pull it out, right?
So I asked the doc: “What exactly do you use to get the screw out?”
“A screwdriver.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” Then, reading my face, and the grin at the corners of my mouth: “Granted, it’s not like it’s a Dewalt we picked up at Home Depot and sterilized, but all the same, it’s just a screwdriver.”
I love my orthopedist.
Today I had another visit with my orthopedist. New x-rays were taken, and my foot was poked and prodded.
The bad news: not yet time for surgery to have the screw removed.
The good news: I can ditch the walking boot for regular shoes, though I did have to go buy an insert for my left shoes that has a hardened plastic bottom to help support the joints where my injury took place.
(An aside: Kudos to the manager of our local Walgreen’s (I got it wrong when I said CVS in my tweet) for not trying to sell me a product I couldn’t really use, and instead, sending me to the neighborhood pharmacy down the street. This pharmacy had a lot more specialty items to choose from, including the very insert I needed. My thanks to both pharmacies and their respective staffs.)
I’ve only been in the regular shoe, with the insert, for a few minutes, but I can already tell that my ankle and calf will be aching by the end of the day, as they have not been exercised in a normal walking fashion for a few months now. I go back in six weeks (sigh) for my next visit. The doc is hopeful that at that time everything will be back to where it’s supposed to be, and we can then schedule the surgery for me to get “unscrewed”. Oh, and I still have to walk with the cane.
At any rate, thank the Lord I’m out of that boot, and hurray for progress!
Jim Lindberg, lead singer of Pennywise, in Punk Rock Dad:
This is all part of the game of being a parent. When I signed up to be a dad I had to leave my cool and my self-respect at the maternity room doors. On our white minivan we have no less than three life-size decals of Britney Spears’s face stuck to the windows. A friend saw me driving the wife and kids in it and said he was going to the record store to trade in all of his Pennywise records. I told him to get me the new Christina Aguilera while he was there because the kids were begging me for it.
3. Scenario: Jeffrey won’t be still in class, disrupts other students.
1957 – Jeffrey sent to office and given a good paddling by the principal. He returns to class, sits still, and does not disrupt class again.
2007 – Jeffrey is diagnosed with ADD and given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. School gets extra money from state because Jeffrey has a learning disability.
[…]
6. Scenario: Pedro fails high school English.
1957 – Pedro goes to summer school, passes English, goes to college.
2007 – Pedro’s cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files class action lawsuit against state school system and Pedro’s English teacher. English banned from core curriculum. Pedro is given a diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.
There are six others, but I’m sure you get the general idea. Be sure to read the comments as well.
I recall being paddled in fifth grade by the principal. A classmate, and neighbor who rode the same bus as I, was bullying some younger kids during recess, holding a rubber ball, which they had been bouncing against a wall, out of their reach. I confronted him about it, and he puffed up, demanding to know what I was going to do about it. My response was to deck him in the nose.
A random teacher hauled both of us off to the principal’s office. I told him what I saw, and didn’t blanch from what I had done. I got paddled, but so did the bullying classmate. I can’t speak for him, but I’m certainly not the worse for it. It was the only fight I ever got in throughout all my years of schooling, if you can even call it a fight.
| What American accent do you have?
Your Result: The Midland
“You have a Midland accent” is just another way of saying “you don’t have an accent.” You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio. |
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| The South |
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| Philadelphia |
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| The Inland North |
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| The Northeast |
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| The West |
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| Boston |
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| North Central |
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| What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz |
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Nothing really surprising here. Though I was born in Mississippi, and I grew up in Baton Rouge, I do not have the country-Southern flavor of speech so many of my relatives have, nor is there a hint of Cajun to my tongue. (Note to the oblivious ones out there: Just because people are from Louisiana doesn’t mean they all sound like they just stepped off the pirogue in the bayou.) Many people have expressed surprise, upon learning of my heritage and upbringing, that I do not, in fact, retain a discernible accent.
“[A] good voice for TV and radio.” Hrmmmm. Tom, remember that podcast idea…?
Remember when a few hours ago I said I was really thankful about living in America, and I wasn’t going to get in to some diatribe regarding socialized medicine? After reading the latest from Walter E. Williams, I’m doubly–no, make that triply–thankful:
Before we buy into single-payer health care systems like Canada’s and the United Kingdom’s, we might want to do a bit of research. The Vancouver, British Columbia-based Fraser Institute annually publishes “Waiting Your Turn.” Its 2006 edition gives waiting times, by treatments, from a person’s referral by a general practitioner to treatment by a specialist. The shortest waiting time was for oncology (4.9 weeks). The longest waiting time was for orthopedic surgery (40.3 weeks), followed by plastic surgery (35.4 weeks) and neurosurgery (31.7 weeks).
As reported in the June 28 National Center for Policy Analysis’ “Daily Policy Digest,” Britain’s Department of Health recently acknowledged that one in eight patients waits more than a year for surgery.
(Emphasis added. –R)
Now, class, who remembers what kind of procedure I’m having in just a couple of hours?
That’s right, Nathan. Orthopedic surgery. Orthopedic surgery two weeks after sustaining injury. Two. As opposed to forty. Two.
Two.
Thank you again, God. Thank you.
My friends, as I go about my business on the eve of foot surgery, I thought I would take a moment to offer thanks.
Thanks be to God that I was born in America. The United States is, contrary to what a few of our countrymen and very many outsiders would say, quite simply the greatest nation on planet Earth. No, we’re not perfect. Far, far from it. But if you could pick any place to be born and grow up in, surely, this is the place, and this is the time.
I injured my foot the evening of the 17th. Between that time and now I have visited an emergency clinic and been treated, seen a specialist (twice), and had a CT scan taken of my foot. At the two-week mark, I shall undergo surgery to get the foot’s interior cleaned up and have a screw inserted to help hold things together. Hopefully, at the end of four months, the screw will come out, and I’ll go back to normal mobility.
This would have happened in the same way and at the same pace in very few places elsewhere on the globe. I’m not going to get in to some diatribe regarding socialized medicine, but I wonder if I would be as far along in the process in other Western nations. I certainly wouldn’t be here if I were in a Second-World nation, and I might be permanently crippled if I were a resident in the Third World. Thank God I’m here.
Thanks be to God for close friends. Like Drew, who was helping me with a ceiling fan installation when I stupidly injured myself, and who took me to the after-hours clinic so my wife wouldn’t have to deal with that burden, too. And who called this weekend, after being out of town for a week on business, to check up on me, and offering whatever assistance we might need.
Like Nathan and Brent, who do their best to joke around and keep my mind off the injury. For nabbing primo tickets to the local minor league baseball team, so I could have one last hurrah before my mobility is limited for a couple of months. (Thanks so much, Nathan!) Like the folks at our minichurch, who are always so supportive and caring, wondering what it is they can do to help out. I love you guys!
Thanks be to God that I have such an awesome wife and family. If you’re the praying sort, beyond any prayers concerning my injury and recovery, pray for my wife. The Lord knows what she goes through in putting up with me on a normal basis, much less when I’m going to be in a cast and on crutches for a couple of months. Outside of physical pain and lack of mobility, this will probably be harder on her than it will be on me. So please pray for her.
I am so richly and humbly blessed, I can’t even really put it in to words, other than to say thanks. Thank you, Drew, Brent, Nathan, Donna, Bill, Geno, Liz, Brad, Becky, Susan, Larry, Marlie, Carolyn, Veta, Sam, and Brenda.
Thank you, Mom and Dad, for your encouragement. (And yes, Dad, I did feel the eye roll over the phone when I told you what had happened, and I just hear in my head, “I thought I taught you better than that.” Come on, you know you were thinking it. And yes, you did teach me better than that. What can I say? I had a moment of stupidity.)
Thank you, Kelly, for loving me. You are so wonderful and awesome, there are times I can’t believe you’re even in my life, much less my wife.
Finally, thank you, God, for delivering me from sin, for calling me to Your Kingdom, for blessing me with my nation of birth, for my many friends, and my family. You are, indeed, an awesome God!
So the follow-up with the orthopedic surgeon was today, and we went over the results of yesterday’s CT scan. Of course, we got the worst possible news: surgery. I’ve got bits of bone loose in the foot, so those need to come out, and a screw needs to go in to help hold stuff together long enough to heal.
So I’ll get sliced and screwed on Tuesday, be in a splint and bandages until mid-August, then it’s in to a hard cast for six weeks. All that time, no pressure on the foot, totally on crutches. For two months.
Then, after I get the crutches off, it’s back in to the boot for, well, we actually didn’t get that far. The end of the road is approximately four to five months away, when we’ll have another procedure to remove the screw.
So I won’t be doing much swimming the rest of the summer. I definitely won’t be playing softball this fall, which really bums me out. I won’t get to enjoy the little phisch’s birthday party next week nearly as much as I was looking forward to, which really really bums me out.
At least I’ll be in a position to get a lot of reading done and a lot of movies watched, right?
So I had an appointment with an orthopedist today (technically, the doc’s an orthopedic surgeon), as a follow-up to the emergency clinic visit last week. Had some additional x-rays taken, as the good doctor wanted different angles than the three which were shot at the clinic. He’s concerned by what appears to be a separation between the Cuboid and the Third cuneiform, at the base of my first and second metatarsal bones. We shot a reference x-ray of my right foot, and when comparing the two, you can certainly see there’s more of this separation on the injured left foot.
Now, it could be nothing; it could simply be the way I’m built on that foot. But it could be indicative of this injury, and the severity of it would determine the remedy, up to and including surgery. Since the x-rays are inconclusive, I’m going in on Wednesday morning for a CT scan and 3D imaging. This will give the doc a better look at the intricate bits, see if it’s just ligament damage, or if there are bone flakes getting in the way. Then I’m back in his office on Thursday morning for the results.
Worse-case scenario: I have to have surgery on the foot to clean up any messy bits, and possibly have a screw installed to hold things together while the ligaments heal. This is okay by me, because the worst-case scenario is that if things are really bad and I don’t have the surgery, my arch could eventually weaken to the point of collapse. And we don’t want that, do we?
So Wednesday should be interesting. I’ve never had a CT scan before!