It was one year ago today that Hurricane Katrina decimated my birth city (New Orleans), all but erased part of our favored vacation destination (Gulfport, MS), and wreaked havoc in the area I currently live.
Hurricane Katrina probably seems like 'old news' to the rest of the country, but it's still a near constant topic of conversation in our area. There are some areas that are rebounding and rebuilding. Too many other areas, the City of New Orleans especially, are bogged down by bureaucracy and indecision. I think in the immediate days following Katrina there was a real opportunity to rebuild and this time, to 'do it right.' Right some wrongs, fix what's broken...I'm just not seeing it, though.
There's no describing the allure of New Orleans. Its culture, its history, its charm, its attitude. Unfortunately it take more than a lotta heart to be a viable city. It also takes a brain. Despite its precarious geographic location, I never really thought a storm would be the demise of the city. Too bad Louisiana politics is threatening to be the proverbial final nail in the coffin.
The place in which we live has rebounded. We're booming actually since we have a lot of displaced New Orleanians who have decided to relocate to our area, many of them permanently.
A year ago, my family of 5 (plus two dogs) were staying at Uncle Harold's house in Lafayette, along with my father-in-law and two brothers-in-law. I remember watching the storm coverage on TV, day and night. After Katrina passed, the news showed coverage of New Orleans. A lot of high rise buildings with windows blown out, power lines and utility poles down, flooding in the predicatable areas. I remember seeing a shot of the Lakeview area of New Orleans and thinking, yeah there's water, but it doesn't look that bad. We survived the storm. Sense of relief.
Hours later, the levees broke. Those couple of feet of water in Lakeview suddenly became 8+ feet of water. Other areas, such as the upper and lower 9th Ward was similarly flooded. That's when the sigh of relief became a collective gasp of disbelief.
I've blogged about Katrina in late August/early September 2005. If you're interested, you can click on the archives at left. However, there's a columnist from The Times Picayune, Chris Rose, who really captures the feel for what went on and what's still going on. I encourage you to check out some of his columns. You can do so by clicking on his name.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Mangled Song Lyrics
Have you ever been singing along to a song on the radio only to discover that you are completely mangling the lyrics?
Case in point: A few years back, Son #1’s favorite song was “Heartbreaker” by Pat Benatar. Lyrics should be “You’re a heartbreaker, dream maker...” He’d sing “You’re a heartbreaker, boom baker...”
A woman I worked with several years ago would mangle the lyrics of “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison. Instead of “Hey there, where did we go?” she’d sing, “Hey there, Rodrigo.” However, to this day, I can't hear that song without thinking about her.
Another woman I know was shopping for a 45 - that’s a record that was played on a turntable for those of you too young to remember. (If you’re too young to remember a turntable, then it’s probably past your bedtime. G’nite!)
Anyway, her daughter wanted the 45 of the song “Hooked on a Feeling” by BJ Thomas. (“I’m hooked on a feeling, I’m high on believing that you’re in love with me.”) This lovely lady had the record store clerk completely flummoxed when she asked for “Stuck on a Ceiling.”
Son #3 is partial to the song ‘We Will Rock You’ by Queen, except instead of the correct lyrics - “We will, we will rock you!” - he’d sing “We were, we were Rotten!” (autobiographical, perhaps?)
The song that always tripped me up? “Blinded by the Light” by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band (Of course after reading the actual lyrics from www.lyricsondemand.com, I think it’s easy to see why….)
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Madman drummers bummers,
Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder, feelin' kinda older,
I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasin', sneezin' and wheezin,
the calliope crashed to the ground
The calliope crashed to the ground
But she was...
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Some silicone sister with a manager mister told me I go what it takes
She said "I'll turn you on sonny to something strong,
play the song with the funky break"
And go-cart Mozart was checkin' out the weather chart to see if it was safe outside
And little Early-Pearly came by in his curly-wurly and asked me if I needed a ride
Asked me if I needed a ride
But she was...
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
She got down but she never got tired
She's gonna make it through the night
She's gonna make it through the night
But mama, that's where the fun is
But mama, that's where the fun is
Mama always told me not to look into the eye's of the sun
But mama, that's where the fun is
Some brimstone baritone anticyclone rolling stone preacher from the east
Says, "Dethrone the dictaphone, hit it in it's funny bone,
that's where they expect it least"
And some new-mown chaperone was standin' in the corner,
watching the young girls dance
And some fresh-sown moonstone was messin' with his frozen zone, reminding him of romance
The calliope crashed to the ground
But she was...
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
Madman drummers bummers, Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder, feelin' kinda older,
I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasin', sneezin' and wheezin,
the calliope crashed to the ground
Now Scott with a slingshot finally found a tender spot and throws his lover in the sand
And some bloodshot forget-me-not said daddy's within earshot save the buckshot, turn up the band
Some silicone sister with a manager mister told me I go what it takes
She said "I'll turn you on sonny to something strong"
Explains a lot, huh? And sad to say, current hits aren't immune to my own personal (ahem) revisions. So, ‘fess up. What’s your biggest lyrical blunder? Post a comment and let me know!
Case in point: A few years back, Son #1’s favorite song was “Heartbreaker” by Pat Benatar. Lyrics should be “You’re a heartbreaker, dream maker...” He’d sing “You’re a heartbreaker, boom baker...”
A woman I worked with several years ago would mangle the lyrics of “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison. Instead of “Hey there, where did we go?” she’d sing, “Hey there, Rodrigo.” However, to this day, I can't hear that song without thinking about her.
Another woman I know was shopping for a 45 - that’s a record that was played on a turntable for those of you too young to remember. (If you’re too young to remember a turntable, then it’s probably past your bedtime. G’nite!)
Anyway, her daughter wanted the 45 of the song “Hooked on a Feeling” by BJ Thomas. (“I’m hooked on a feeling, I’m high on believing that you’re in love with me.”) This lovely lady had the record store clerk completely flummoxed when she asked for “Stuck on a Ceiling.”
Son #3 is partial to the song ‘We Will Rock You’ by Queen, except instead of the correct lyrics - “We will, we will rock you!” - he’d sing “We were, we were Rotten!” (autobiographical, perhaps?)
The song that always tripped me up? “Blinded by the Light” by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band (Of course after reading the actual lyrics from www.lyricsondemand.com, I think it’s easy to see why….)
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Madman drummers bummers,
Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder, feelin' kinda older,
I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasin', sneezin' and wheezin,
the calliope crashed to the ground
The calliope crashed to the ground
But she was...
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Some silicone sister with a manager mister told me I go what it takes
She said "I'll turn you on sonny to something strong,
play the song with the funky break"
And go-cart Mozart was checkin' out the weather chart to see if it was safe outside
And little Early-Pearly came by in his curly-wurly and asked me if I needed a ride
Asked me if I needed a ride
But she was...
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
She got down but she never got tired
She's gonna make it through the night
She's gonna make it through the night
But mama, that's where the fun is
But mama, that's where the fun is
Mama always told me not to look into the eye's of the sun
But mama, that's where the fun is
Some brimstone baritone anticyclone rolling stone preacher from the east
Says, "Dethrone the dictaphone, hit it in it's funny bone,
that's where they expect it least"
And some new-mown chaperone was standin' in the corner,
watching the young girls dance
And some fresh-sown moonstone was messin' with his frozen zone, reminding him of romance
The calliope crashed to the ground
But she was...
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
Madman drummers bummers, Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder, feelin' kinda older,
I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasin', sneezin' and wheezin,
the calliope crashed to the ground
Now Scott with a slingshot finally found a tender spot and throws his lover in the sand
And some bloodshot forget-me-not said daddy's within earshot save the buckshot, turn up the band
Some silicone sister with a manager mister told me I go what it takes
She said "I'll turn you on sonny to something strong"
Explains a lot, huh? And sad to say, current hits aren't immune to my own personal (ahem) revisions. So, ‘fess up. What’s your biggest lyrical blunder? Post a comment and let me know!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Magnetic Hiney?
The Little Guy, who is 4, was taking his bath this evening. He stated rather succinctly that I was NOT going to wash his hair. I assured him that I would indeed shampoo his hair. No, you're not, he says. Am too. Am not. And so forth.
Meanwhile the wheels are turning.
"You're not going to wash my hair, because I'm gonna jump out of here naked, run and put my clothes on, and put magnets on my butt, and jump on the sofa and you won't be able to pick me up."
I have to admit: it sounds like a pretty good plan. Except that we don't have a stainless steel sofa.
I won on principle (he did relent and let me shampoo his hair). However, he wins the prize for creativity.
Here's a thought of the day:
I am in shape. Round is a shape.
Meanwhile the wheels are turning.
"You're not going to wash my hair, because I'm gonna jump out of here naked, run and put my clothes on, and put magnets on my butt, and jump on the sofa and you won't be able to pick me up."
I have to admit: it sounds like a pretty good plan. Except that we don't have a stainless steel sofa.
I won on principle (he did relent and let me shampoo his hair). However, he wins the prize for creativity.
Here's a thought of the day:
I am in shape. Round is a shape.
Monday, August 21, 2006
What Do You Call It When...
...you become obsessed with a particular project/book/craft/chore - whatever - and you absolutely MUST finish it TODAY???? A form of OCD? (No offense to those of you who may, in fact, have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.)
This weekend, I started another home improvement project. First off, let me say that it's huge progress that I know only work on a single project at a time. No starting new projects until I complete the one I'm already working on.
Anyway, this weekend, we decided to tackle the garage. Calling it a 'garage' is a stretch. It's very tiny. You *might* be able to fit a car inside if you had nothing else in there. We just don't live that way (in part, because our house is so tiny, we need the extra space for storage).
So we've decided to admit defeat (a motorized vehicle will never reside within its walls). We're sorting through what to pitch, what to donate and what to keep. We're rearranging shelves. We're going to buy a work station and cabinets. We're going to paint the floor gray and repaint the walls white. By 'we', I mean 'me.' Okay, Dear Hubby, is helping with the heavy lifting and spider removal, but I'm doing the bulk of the work. (Besides, painting over spiders is a pretty effective means of getting rid of them. It was an accident, folks. Really.)
Because the garage is so small and there's so much stuff, I have to either move stuff out into the driveway or move it to one side of the garage while I paint the other half, then paint the other side and move the stuff back. Plus the place where I'm donating the usuable stuff can't pick it up until September 21.
I'm getting burned out, though. I'm really ready for the this project to be over. But I still have purchase and assemble the cabinets. If I could just a good, uninterrupted, twenty or so hours, I know I can make it look great. (Yeah, right.)
I know, I know. Break the job into manageable pieces. But I don't want manageable, I want closure. I want to be finished. I want to start plotting my next project. (sigh)
This weekend, I started another home improvement project. First off, let me say that it's huge progress that I know only work on a single project at a time. No starting new projects until I complete the one I'm already working on.
Anyway, this weekend, we decided to tackle the garage. Calling it a 'garage' is a stretch. It's very tiny. You *might* be able to fit a car inside if you had nothing else in there. We just don't live that way (in part, because our house is so tiny, we need the extra space for storage).
So we've decided to admit defeat (a motorized vehicle will never reside within its walls). We're sorting through what to pitch, what to donate and what to keep. We're rearranging shelves. We're going to buy a work station and cabinets. We're going to paint the floor gray and repaint the walls white. By 'we', I mean 'me.' Okay, Dear Hubby, is helping with the heavy lifting and spider removal, but I'm doing the bulk of the work. (Besides, painting over spiders is a pretty effective means of getting rid of them. It was an accident, folks. Really.)
Because the garage is so small and there's so much stuff, I have to either move stuff out into the driveway or move it to one side of the garage while I paint the other half, then paint the other side and move the stuff back. Plus the place where I'm donating the usuable stuff can't pick it up until September 21.
I'm getting burned out, though. I'm really ready for the this project to be over. But I still have purchase and assemble the cabinets. If I could just a good, uninterrupted, twenty or so hours, I know I can make it look great. (Yeah, right.)
I know, I know. Break the job into manageable pieces. But I don't want manageable, I want closure. I want to be finished. I want to start plotting my next project. (sigh)
Friday, August 18, 2006
Swim Test
Just gotta share, but first a little background: Son #1 just turned 11 in June. He's very small for his age. He is what's referred to as hypotonic, which means he has low muscle tone ("floppy muscles"). Hypotonia in and of itself is not a disability, but usually appears in conjunction with another disorder, for example cerebral palsy (which Son #1 does not have). In fact, if Son #1 has hypotonia in conjunction with something else, we don't know what that something else is. But I digress: in a nutshell, when he runs or swims, his arms and legs flail kind of like a rag doll. His form isn't pretty but his stamina, however, is very good. He had swimming lessons for a few summers, but we didn't have a pool where he could practice.
Generally, Son #1 is very comfortable floating and treading water that's over his head. However, he tried the boy scout swim test before going to camp in June, but panicked and had to be plucked from the water. At camp, he opted to work on his pottery merit badge with the only other non-swimmer in the troop. It rained on the last day of camp so the kids who were working on their swim merit badge couldn't complete the requirement. They re-scheduled the swim test at a community pool this past Sunday. I took Son #1 along so he could at least work on the water safety requirements (i.e. how to help rescue struggling swimmers without drowning yourself). Son #1 did pretty well with that.
One of the adult leaders talked to my son and asked if he wanted to try to take the swim test, which entails swimming the 25-foot length of the pool four times, using three pre-assigned swim strokes plus one of Son #1's choosing. If he passed the swim test, he'd be able to participate in other water activities, such as canoeing, etc. (with a life vest, of course). If he doesn't pass the swim test, then he can only go in the canoe if there is a certified lifeguard onboard.
It wasn't pretty, but Son #1 did swim all four laps. I couldn't always tell which stroke he was using. He had a little trouble with the side stroke since he kept veering off course, but someone would holler to him to straighten his course and he did. His final lap was of his own choosing: the modified backstroke (as a floater, this was perfect for him). He was so proud of himself when they told him that he completed the test. WOO HOO!
And I underestimated him - I really didn't think he'd be able to do it! Not without a lot of practice. He has to repeat the swim test each year, but know he knows he can do it. Who knows - maybe there's a swimming merit badge in his future, after all.
Generally, Son #1 is very comfortable floating and treading water that's over his head. However, he tried the boy scout swim test before going to camp in June, but panicked and had to be plucked from the water. At camp, he opted to work on his pottery merit badge with the only other non-swimmer in the troop. It rained on the last day of camp so the kids who were working on their swim merit badge couldn't complete the requirement. They re-scheduled the swim test at a community pool this past Sunday. I took Son #1 along so he could at least work on the water safety requirements (i.e. how to help rescue struggling swimmers without drowning yourself). Son #1 did pretty well with that.
One of the adult leaders talked to my son and asked if he wanted to try to take the swim test, which entails swimming the 25-foot length of the pool four times, using three pre-assigned swim strokes plus one of Son #1's choosing. If he passed the swim test, he'd be able to participate in other water activities, such as canoeing, etc. (with a life vest, of course). If he doesn't pass the swim test, then he can only go in the canoe if there is a certified lifeguard onboard.
It wasn't pretty, but Son #1 did swim all four laps. I couldn't always tell which stroke he was using. He had a little trouble with the side stroke since he kept veering off course, but someone would holler to him to straighten his course and he did. His final lap was of his own choosing: the modified backstroke (as a floater, this was perfect for him). He was so proud of himself when they told him that he completed the test. WOO HOO!
And I underestimated him - I really didn't think he'd be able to do it! Not without a lot of practice. He has to repeat the swim test each year, but know he knows he can do it. Who knows - maybe there's a swimming merit badge in his future, after all.
Monday, August 14, 2006
First Day of School
Today was the first day of school for Son #1 (6th grade) and Son #2 (4th grade). They each had a good day. Son #2 has the same teacher that Son #1 had for the 4th grade. I hope he gets along with her better than Son #1 did.
For some reason, they would clash and Son #1 would get very, very upset (usually ending up in tears and just 'shutting down'). I remember when the teacher first suggested we 'get together to brainstorm on ways to help him manage his frustration.' I recalled telling her that sure, we could meet, but I had no suggestions to offer because he's never done it around me or any of his previous teachers. That didn't go over very well. (I should also point out that he never had any problems in class last year.) Still, Son #2 doesn't have the same issues as Son #1, so I suspect he'll be just fine.
As for Son #3, I resumed homeschooling him today. We took a break in June a couple of weeks after the other two boys got out of school for the summer. Today was a 'review' day. I was impressed with how much Son #3 remembers of our work together. All we have to do tomorrow is review the phonemes "n" and "k" and then proceed with new stuff.
For some reason, they would clash and Son #1 would get very, very upset (usually ending up in tears and just 'shutting down'). I remember when the teacher first suggested we 'get together to brainstorm on ways to help him manage his frustration.' I recalled telling her that sure, we could meet, but I had no suggestions to offer because he's never done it around me or any of his previous teachers. That didn't go over very well. (I should also point out that he never had any problems in class last year.) Still, Son #2 doesn't have the same issues as Son #1, so I suspect he'll be just fine.
As for Son #3, I resumed homeschooling him today. We took a break in June a couple of weeks after the other two boys got out of school for the summer. Today was a 'review' day. I was impressed with how much Son #3 remembers of our work together. All we have to do tomorrow is review the phonemes "n" and "k" and then proceed with new stuff.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Sunflower
Back in late April/early May, I took Son #3 to Story Time at our local library. The theme was "Earth Day." The librarian read three books to the children then - instead of the usual craft project - she had each child plant a single sunflower seed in a paper cup.
The seed sprouted within days and when it grew to a few inches, we transplanted it into our garden. It took a couple of months for it to grow tall and finally bloom, but check it out now.
Here's Son #3 and his prized sunflower:
The seed sprouted within days and when it grew to a few inches, we transplanted it into our garden. It took a couple of months for it to grow tall and finally bloom, but check it out now.
Here's Son #3 and his prized sunflower:
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Summer Vacation is Winding Down...
Sons #1&2 return to school on Monday, August 14th. They'll be in 6th and 4th grades, respectively. This will be a new school for Son #2. It's called a 'middle school' but it covers grades 4-6. In our area, Elementary school is K-3, Middle school is 4-6, Junior high is 7&8, and High school is 9-12. Seems strange to me, but I think it has to do with the population in our area.
The class listings will be posted on August 10 so we can go the school and check to see which classes the sons will be in. Son #1 isn't so interested in who his teacher will be, but rather will he have to indure another year with The Pest (a kid who has been in Son #1's class for the past two years). At different times, Son #1 and The Pest have tried to be friends, but they just get on each other's nerves.
Son #2 is looking forward to school, Son #1 less so. Son #1 will miss his late night TV viewing with Mom, I think. Today, my father-in-law took us all to lunch at IHOP to celebrate our last week of summer vacation. Two uncles, one aunt, two cousins, my three boys and I.
Afterward, I took my three to get their hair cut. Yes, even Son #3 who will again be homeschooled for pre-K gets a back-to-school haircut (and brand new school supplies).
Other than camp for Sons #1&2, and my trip to visit my mother, it's been a pretty relaxing, quiet summer.
Thought for the day: A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory. :-)
The class listings will be posted on August 10 so we can go the school and check to see which classes the sons will be in. Son #1 isn't so interested in who his teacher will be, but rather will he have to indure another year with The Pest (a kid who has been in Son #1's class for the past two years). At different times, Son #1 and The Pest have tried to be friends, but they just get on each other's nerves.
Son #2 is looking forward to school, Son #1 less so. Son #1 will miss his late night TV viewing with Mom, I think. Today, my father-in-law took us all to lunch at IHOP to celebrate our last week of summer vacation. Two uncles, one aunt, two cousins, my three boys and I.
Afterward, I took my three to get their hair cut. Yes, even Son #3 who will again be homeschooled for pre-K gets a back-to-school haircut (and brand new school supplies).
Other than camp for Sons #1&2, and my trip to visit my mother, it's been a pretty relaxing, quiet summer.
Thought for the day: A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory. :-)
Friday, August 04, 2006
Well, It's About Time!
Seventy-six hours later, we finally have Dear Hubby's test results (see yesterday's post). All is well. whew.
Basically, Dear Hubby has a heart condition. Well, technically his heart is in great shape. It's the arteries that aren't.
This from www.webmd.com:
"Cardiac enzyme studies measure the levels of the enzymes troponin (TnI, TnT) and creatine phosphokinase (CPK, CK) in the blood. Low levels of these enzymes are normally found in your blood, but if your heart muscle is injured, such as from a heart attack, the enzymes leak out of damaged heart muscle cells and their levels in the bloodstream rise.
Because some of these enzymes are also found in other body tissues, their levels in the blood may rise when those other tissues are damaged. Cardiac enzyme studies must always be compared with your symptoms, your physical examination findings, and electrocardiogram (EKG, ECG) results."
There are factors that can affect the test, including strenuous exercise (which he hadn't done in a couple of days) and cholesterol-lowering medications (statins, which Dear Hubby takes).
A normal CPK level for a man is in the range of 55–170 international units per liter (IU/L). Dear Hubby's was over 4,000 - yes, that's three zeroes - in the first test. The doctor called to see how Dear Hubby was feeling (fine) so she recommended that he discontinue one of the statins and go for another test a week later.
His CPK level in the second test is within normal (150 IU/L). While I'm relieved, I'm still annoyed that the doctor had the first set of test results within hours, but it took over three days for the second test. End of rant.
Thought of the day: Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew Up.
Basically, Dear Hubby has a heart condition. Well, technically his heart is in great shape. It's the arteries that aren't.
This from www.webmd.com:
"Cardiac enzyme studies measure the levels of the enzymes troponin (TnI, TnT) and creatine phosphokinase (CPK, CK) in the blood. Low levels of these enzymes are normally found in your blood, but if your heart muscle is injured, such as from a heart attack, the enzymes leak out of damaged heart muscle cells and their levels in the bloodstream rise.
Because some of these enzymes are also found in other body tissues, their levels in the blood may rise when those other tissues are damaged. Cardiac enzyme studies must always be compared with your symptoms, your physical examination findings, and electrocardiogram (EKG, ECG) results."
There are factors that can affect the test, including strenuous exercise (which he hadn't done in a couple of days) and cholesterol-lowering medications (statins, which Dear Hubby takes).
A normal CPK level for a man is in the range of 55–170 international units per liter (IU/L). Dear Hubby's was over 4,000 - yes, that's three zeroes - in the first test. The doctor called to see how Dear Hubby was feeling (fine) so she recommended that he discontinue one of the statins and go for another test a week later.
His CPK level in the second test is within normal (150 IU/L). While I'm relieved, I'm still annoyed that the doctor had the first set of test results within hours, but it took over three days for the second test. End of rant.
Thought of the day: Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew Up.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Today's Rant: Medical Labs
The short version: Dear Hubby has a medical condition that requires regular check ups and monitoring. He went last Tuesday to have his routine blood work done. The very next day (the day I left on my trip, by the way), the doctor calls and says the lab faxed over the results and that one of the tests was abnormal.
He had a high level of a particular enzyme that's released when there's an injury to a muscle. Since his condition is coronary, and the heart is a big muscle, the doc decided to call rather than wait until their sit-down appointment later this month. Dear Hubby is feeling fine, so the doctor thinks it's an interaction with his medications so she asks him to discontinue taking one and go for more bloodwork a week later.
So....Dear Hubby goes to the lab to have blood drawn on Tuesday morning. Here is it Thursday afternoon and the lab has not yet faxed the results to the doctor.
My rant is this: Why did it take less than 24 hours to fax the results the first time, and more than 2 days the second time? 53.5 hours and counting. GRRRRR!
He had a high level of a particular enzyme that's released when there's an injury to a muscle. Since his condition is coronary, and the heart is a big muscle, the doc decided to call rather than wait until their sit-down appointment later this month. Dear Hubby is feeling fine, so the doctor thinks it's an interaction with his medications so she asks him to discontinue taking one and go for more bloodwork a week later.
So....Dear Hubby goes to the lab to have blood drawn on Tuesday morning. Here is it Thursday afternoon and the lab has not yet faxed the results to the doctor.
My rant is this: Why did it take less than 24 hours to fax the results the first time, and more than 2 days the second time? 53.5 hours and counting. GRRRRR!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Love Thy Neighbor?
I've blogged about this family once before, on August 25, 2005. They moved to our neighborhood - two houses down - in June 2005. To recap, there was a stay-home dad (he collects disability), the Potty Mouth Mom, a 12 year old autistic son, and an 8 year old girl. Stay-Home Dad and Potty Mouth Mom would frequently argue outside their home - every other word was a expletive. Well, one day last fall, Potty Mouth Mom decided to move out of the house and into an apartment with her boyfriend who works at the same grocery store she does. Stay Home Dad lives in the house with the kids. Potty Mouth Mom and the Boyfriend visit occasionally. (The house was purchased by Potty Mouth Mom's mother and a few other folks - I don't believe that Potty Mouth Mom and Stay Home Dad are listed on the title.)
In December, Stay Home Dad's 14 year old son from a previous relationship moved in with them. Apparently when this child was around 3 years old, his mother decided not to let Stay Home Dad visit anymore, so Stay Home Dad discontinued paying child support. The 14 year old's mother went to jail for something and the kid was put in a group foster home. Stay Home Dad told me about it previously, and one day I asked how it was working out getting to know his son. Stay Home Dad told me outright that they're taking their time to get to know one another but that he (Stay Home Dad) told the 14 year old that he was 'better off where he is' (meaning the foster care system).
Part of me wonders what I would do if it were me: what would it be like bringing a 14 year old stranger who has his own issues into a home with a 12 year old autistic boy and an 8 year old girl. Then the other part of me thinks, geez, this is your SON. Grow a set and step up, will ya? Apparently the state threatened to hit Stay Home Dad up for 11 years back child support (don't know how they'd collect). I don't know whether this had any bearing on Stay Home Dad's decision to have the 14 year old move in, but I suspect it did.
Meanwhile, the trash piles up outside this home. Stay Home Dad leaves the garbage can by the curb all the time. It's overflowing and there are trash bags lined up along side. This tells me two things: 1) he apparently hasn't paid for his trash pickup service, and 2) racoons are going to rip open the bags and I'll end up picking up the trash that blows into the street.
Recently, a neighbor hosted a birthday party at another community's pool house. Stay Home Dad brings the daughter but says that the autistic child isn't feeling well and that if he's not back to pick up the girl when the party ends, would I mind driving her home? (sigh, okaaaayyyyy) I tell Stay Home Dad that I have to stop by KMart to exchange an toy that Son #2 received for his birthday but that never worked properly. I tell him his daughter can ride with us to KMart then we'll be home. No problem, he says. No problem until it's time for us to leave the party. His Daughter can't find her towel so I loan her one of my boys' towels. She changes into her clothes, but guess what? She didn't wear shoes to the party. Now, I won't bring her to KMart barefoot. Some people may not have a problem with it. I'm not one of those people. I have a big problem with it. So I end up driving the daughter back to her house and then back tracking to KMart. What a PITA.
According to the neighbor who lives between us, Stay Home Dad knocked on his door and asked to borrow $10 to put gas in his car. When Neighbor said he didn't have any cash, Stay Home Dad asked, "well, could you write me a check?" Uh no.
On one hand, I want to be a good Christian (love thy neighbor and all) but on the other hand, these people just drive me nuts.
In December, Stay Home Dad's 14 year old son from a previous relationship moved in with them. Apparently when this child was around 3 years old, his mother decided not to let Stay Home Dad visit anymore, so Stay Home Dad discontinued paying child support. The 14 year old's mother went to jail for something and the kid was put in a group foster home. Stay Home Dad told me about it previously, and one day I asked how it was working out getting to know his son. Stay Home Dad told me outright that they're taking their time to get to know one another but that he (Stay Home Dad) told the 14 year old that he was 'better off where he is' (meaning the foster care system).
Part of me wonders what I would do if it were me: what would it be like bringing a 14 year old stranger who has his own issues into a home with a 12 year old autistic boy and an 8 year old girl. Then the other part of me thinks, geez, this is your SON. Grow a set and step up, will ya? Apparently the state threatened to hit Stay Home Dad up for 11 years back child support (don't know how they'd collect). I don't know whether this had any bearing on Stay Home Dad's decision to have the 14 year old move in, but I suspect it did.
Meanwhile, the trash piles up outside this home. Stay Home Dad leaves the garbage can by the curb all the time. It's overflowing and there are trash bags lined up along side. This tells me two things: 1) he apparently hasn't paid for his trash pickup service, and 2) racoons are going to rip open the bags and I'll end up picking up the trash that blows into the street.
Recently, a neighbor hosted a birthday party at another community's pool house. Stay Home Dad brings the daughter but says that the autistic child isn't feeling well and that if he's not back to pick up the girl when the party ends, would I mind driving her home? (sigh, okaaaayyyyy) I tell Stay Home Dad that I have to stop by KMart to exchange an toy that Son #2 received for his birthday but that never worked properly. I tell him his daughter can ride with us to KMart then we'll be home. No problem, he says. No problem until it's time for us to leave the party. His Daughter can't find her towel so I loan her one of my boys' towels. She changes into her clothes, but guess what? She didn't wear shoes to the party. Now, I won't bring her to KMart barefoot. Some people may not have a problem with it. I'm not one of those people. I have a big problem with it. So I end up driving the daughter back to her house and then back tracking to KMart. What a PITA.
According to the neighbor who lives between us, Stay Home Dad knocked on his door and asked to borrow $10 to put gas in his car. When Neighbor said he didn't have any cash, Stay Home Dad asked, "well, could you write me a check?" Uh no.
On one hand, I want to be a good Christian (love thy neighbor and all) but on the other hand, these people just drive me nuts.
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