Times they are a changing.....and so is this page.
Be patient. I'm making some changes that will
reflect this new stage in my life. I want to include you all,
unless you're the kind of person who uses others, manipulates
them, scams them, and then cries "Boohoo, I'm soooo sowwy!"
~if you're one of them, then please, go away somewhere. You're
wasting my oxygen.
Have a nice day!
|Posted on November 30, 2012 at 4:50 PM||comments (0)|
If you have the time this weekend....
I wonder if I might impose upon you for a favor?
There's a message I've been trying to get out for some time now, years actually, and so far I've either had no luck reaching people or they're just plain too stupid to understand, so I'm requesting your help....
I'd like you to take a quick step outside. I know it's bloody cold. Suck it up and go outside! It's only for a moment.
Thanks, now look around at your neighbours' mailbox locations. Do you happen to notice if any of these neighbours have decorations, outdoor furniture, trees, shrubs, wires, lights, ornaments, signs, ice/snow buildup, anything, anything at all interfering with their stairs/porches/railings?
They do? Well, would you mind going over to these homes, ringing their doorbells/knock, and when someone answers, scream at them "KEEP YOUR GOD DAMN PORCH AND STAIRS CLEAR! MORON!"
I'm sick and tired of tripping on what folks consider "pretty" or "festive" or "I'll-get-to-it-ice-buildup". Look, people, any fucking idiot knows that if there's something in the way of your mailbox; if there's some kind of planter on the stairs; if that blowup Santa figure is taking up 2/3 or more of your front porch....IT'S IN THE FUCKING WAY! God I wish arson was legal!
Ok no I don't, but it's nice to dream....
Have you seen the latest commercial for Pedigree Bones? OMG it's adorable! This young beagle, not quite a puppy anymore but definitely young, is "going to town" on a large snack bone, and the voice over is simply saying "Om nom nom nom nom". It's just too cute! Have a look for yourselves!
Well my battle with shallow breathing has eased up, with no help whatsoever from the medical community.
On the 17th when I had my CT scan, Dr. Heele Ray gave me the results and inside of 2 minutes said 4 x that he was "just an ER doc". I had to point out to him that Dr. Boucier had wanted me sent for pulmonary function tests, he said he would refer me. All I had to do was wait for the clinic to contact me. Uh huh. This was on Saturday.
By the following Wednesday, I called the clinic myself, only to be told no one had my results, referral or anything else. I called the ER. By late Thursday, the shift manager had an answer for me: apparently the new extension number for the clinic was not used. My referral went somewhere over the rainbow. She assured me she was sending it forward and I would be contacted the next day. This was Thursday the 22. On Tuesday the 27, I called the clinic; they had NOTHING! I called the ER and actually got the woman who had originally "sent" my results and referral, supposedly to the clinic. With no less than 3 minutes of work she found out why nothing was working. Apparently, when the extensions were changed for various departments, THE NEW EXTENSION FOR THE CLINIC HAD NOT BEEN UPDATED IN THE PHONE! So the first time this wasn't noticed. Ok. But what about the second time? This charge nurse KNEW what the problem was, but apparently when she faxed my info, she felt there was no concern to actually lean over and look at the teeny tiny window to see what 4 digit number showed when she pressed the "ER" number.
Good God! Is it any fucking wonder no one wants to be treated here!
Ok, good as her word Julie got everything to the clinic - 12 pages. Clinic calls me back within 24 hours with appointment for January 23, 11am. ?????????????? JANUARY 23? FOR A FUNCTION TEST? (Function tests are designed to 1) identify problem areas where the lungs might be having trouble processing oxygen for your body and brain 2) possibly identify any other problems or at least lead you in right direction 3) if inconclusive, cardio function tests may follow. I had to call back to confirm I had received the message. I figured I'd wait 24 hours. Why not? They obviously weren't concerned.
The very next morning at 730 I get a call from the ER. It was "Allan" calling to tell me about my appointment with the clinic. When I tried to explain my situation, he said "I'm just calling with the appointment."-------You know folks, I almost wish my breathing had gotten much worse, and that my lifeless body was found in my living room. I've documented everything for my sister, and I know she definitely would go after these incompetent boobs! I'd be dead, but shit! She and her family would be set for life!------------
Ok so I call later that day to confirm my appointment since I'm pretty sure that "Allan" would in no way be able to dial the extension number for the clinic one floor up to let them know he has confirmed with me himself. (Let's say it all together now...D'UH!)
I talk to Gisele, telling her why I'm calling. "Oh no, it's not for function testing, it's for a consultation."
Here's the shortened version of how the rest of the call went - and I'm not happy at all........
I call today to confirm that appointment for pulmonary function testing on Jan 23 - and I find out it's not for testing, it's for a "consultation" with the therapist!
Oh you should have heard me..."No, no no no no! Dr Boucier wanted function testing done and if it proved inconclusive, cardio function testing was next!"
The clinician tells me to calm down, she has to find my file, will call me back.
She does call me back, and only minutes later. "You're right, Dr Boucier did want PF testing done."
- "Yes, I know that but no one seems to hear me when I say it."
- "That's done in another department on another floor altogether."
- "Any chance someone can run my file up that one flight of stairs?"
- "I'm going to fax it right up to them right now"
- "Shouldn't this have been done when I was in the ER and the CT scan came back negative and I said to Dr Heele Ray that Dr. Boucier wanted PF tests done?"
- "I'm taking care of it now."
- "What is their extension number? I'm calling them right after I hang up and I'm going to make the appointment right now."
- "It's 5388. I'll fax your results immediately.The receptionist's name is Wendy."
- "Thank you. It'll make it easier for Wendy to know why I'm calling." (end call)
(call dept for PF) appointment was offered for Dec 5 , but can't do it, gone pretty much mid Wednesdays til Friday mornings. then it's my physio at 1p. Ok schedule appointment for Friday Dec 14 at 930 am. Great! Work Wed. eve, deliver overnight, sleep 7am til 1 Thurs, work 5-10, deliver overnight Friday, stay awake for PF testing and physio, then work at 5.
Ok still with me? Oh you're so gonna love this part!
When my appointment for the "consultation" was booked for January 23, 11am, I was asked if I wanted to be put on the cancelled appointment list; you know, where if someone cancels, you're called and asked if you could make it? I specifically told that charge nurse from the ER "No. There's no sense in my having a consultation before we even know what the problem is! How can someone give me advice and suggestions when no one knows why it's happening?" This nurse agreed with me and that was that. Or so I thought.
On Friday the 7th, I had a message on my phone telling me there had been a cancellation in the respiratory clinic for Monday morning at 10 am and that if I wanted it, I was to call the clinic and confirm, otherwise they would assume that I did not want it and that my January 23 appointment would stand.
When I heard this, I saw red. HOLY FUCKING CRYING OUT LOUD! WHAT DID IT TAKE TO GET THIS BULLSHIT STRAIGHTENED OUT? I knew if I called to tell them what to do with their appointment...well, let's just say I decided to not call them back and keep the January 23 appt.
It was Monday afternoon, around 3 pm when I woke up and saw I had a new message on my phone. I actually thought it was work. It wasn't. It was a message from the Respiratory Clinic at the CCH wondering why I didn't show for my appointment at 10 that morning, and that as I had accepted this alternate appointment, I had lost my January 23 appointment.
THAT'S IT! Here's a bit of what came out of my mouth: THOSE STUPID MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKERS! CAN'T THEY GET ANYTHING RIGHT? FOR CHRIST'S SAKE I WISH MY BREATHING WOULD GET WORSE JUST SO I COULD SUE THEIR FUCKING ASSES OFF! WE'RE PAYING FOR THIS KIND OF CRAP? WHO IN HELL IS RUNNING THIS SHOW?
I called them back. And I got their voicemail. I'll bet they're damn glad I got their voicemail. I told them what I just posted here, (except for the profanity of course), and I finished with something like this, "...And I would appreciate it if someone from your department called my home number and confirmed that my January 23 appointment is going to be the appointment I have, at 11 am, as I did not ask to be place on your cancellation list."
Our medical services are pretty damned terrific when it comes to emergencies, but if you need testing, procedures, whatever, for the love of God, STAY ON TOP OF THINGS! If you're the type of person who is a big fucking wuss, then I strongly suggest you get someone who has backbone to be with you ANYTIME you enter ANY FORM of medical establishment!
I'm typing this part on Thursday, December 6. I've been so goddamn mad I didn't even want to finish this post. It just pisses me off more and it also scares the crap out of me. This is one of my greatest fears folks, being one of those people that "fall between the cracks" of our medical system. Or being misdiagnosed because of someone's incompetence, or even worse, their laziness.
"But Barb, that doesn't happen!" Oh yeah? Don't forget, the first two times my referral to the respiratory clinic was faxed from the ER, it was "lost" because the person, who over a month ago, was responsible for updating the auto dial phone book in the ER phone never did their job! And that was just a fax of test results and a referral! (The wrong goddamn referral as it turns out but I'm really not surprised anymore.)
And of course, I'm still waiting for that call back ............. ironic isn't it? We have to kowtow to these dipsticks and we're paying them.
WHEN YOU SAY YOU'RE GOING TO DO THE WORK THAT COMES WITH YOUR JOB, DO IT OR GET OUT AND LET SOMEONE WHO'S SERIOUS ABOUT THE WORK GETTING DONE, HAVE THE JOB!
|Posted on November 21, 2012 at 6:30 AM||comments (0)|
Ok your ass is covered; now what about mine?
Howdy all! This past Friday, when I thought I could handle it, I decided to get the rest of those damn freebie newspapers delivered. I...was....wrong.
Remember my earlier post of having trouble with shallow breathing? Well I finally hit my limits! Friday evening, at 6p I walked into the ER at CCH - McConnell, and registered to be seen by, hopefully, a competent doctor. When I was finally seen, (not bad- only about 1/2 hour wait), the doc took me seriously. I believe her name is, or sounds like, Dr. Boucier. She set me up with regular blood draws - AVG, d:dimer - blood gas, chest xrays, for starters. (Note here; ask anyone who has had a blood gas drawn and they will tell you it damn well hurts. This is one time it does actually depend on whom you ask. A blood gas is when blood is drawn from an artery in your wrist. If you have large arteries and good blood flow, the pain is more of a nasty muscle ache, about a 4/10, and it basically feels like someone hitting you in a sore muscle - only it doesn't stop until they take the needle out. If your arteries are small, and the tech/nurse has to ...ahem..."dig" around for it, you'd better have someone to hold onto, cause it's going to hurt like a motherf(*^&(*&&*(! I was very lucky. My arteries are nothing like my mother's were; I fell into the former category. Thank God! I gave the pain/ache a 4/10 only because when you're feeling like crap, can't take a deep breath and you're scared to death, then that 4 seems like a 7. Hey how about that? Mom wasn't right all the time!)
My results come back pretty damn quickly - that's spooky! - and the doc pulls me into one of those tiny exam rooms to "discuss" my results. She then informs me I have very small blood clots throughout my bloodstream. I'm not even going to discuss what one teensy tiny clot can do, let alone the big ones, or the tiny pieces broken off of big ones. She schedules me for a CT scan for Saturday morning at 8 am, with "You HAVE to be here for 745. I'm serious. I want you here TOMORROW!" (standard operating procedure folks, and I knew this. If there's even a chance of a major blood clot anywhere in your body, medical folk have to act fast. In the lungs, it's called a pulmonary embolism; in the heart, a heart attack; in the brain, a stroke; and, God help you, if one gets caught in a piece of muscle in a limb, within 24 hours you will experience the beginning of muscle death, and more often than not, the limb has to be removed. Almost never can the clots be successfully removed once muscle death has started, that's only one reason why the urgency.) So I'm given a standard start dose of blood thinners, and once the CT scan is done, the doc will determine if I have to continue the thinners.
All other tests were completely clear...so far.
I arrived at 20 to 8 on Saturday morning, only to find out that the doc should not have scheduled me for that time because the CT only opens at 8 am, and they go according to whomever they choose to scan. I told them exactly what Dr Boucier had said, and the CT tech went to verify the info. Holy crap! She was back in 5 minutes and told me exactly what to do. In 15 minutes I was registered and ready to go for my scan. If you think it's scary having tests done, they try it when you put ahead of anyone else. There is NO feeling special; only worried.
Ok, so CT scans come back and Doogie Howser, only with short Chekov-from-classic-Star Trek-hair, gives me my results. Nothing. Heart and lungs look fine. We've ruled out all the nasty "conditions". COPD's and the like. And in the space of barely 2 minutes, this "doctor", who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, informs me "I'm an ER doctor. This isn't my area." 4 bloody times! It sounded just like he was covering his own ass before caring about my lungs. The son of a bitch.
I tell him there is something wrong and I want more tests done. I tell him I know my body, I've lived in it for 46 years, and I've been very healthy my whole life. Something is wrong. I tell him Dr Boucier had suggested pulmonary and cardio function testing, and he has the balls to ask me if that's what I want? No you dildough. I'm enjoying sitting here, terrified, wondering if I'll breathe normally ever again, accepting your word that nothing is wrong when only 4 damn tests have been done. Please, just let me leave and be sure to step over my body on your way out, moron!
But that's not what I said...sorry to disappoint you. I tell him yes.
Those blood clots they found? Well turns out ol Doc Boucier didn't tell me something about the d:dimer blood tests: if the test comes out negative it means you have one/two conditions - a pulmonary embolism and/or Deep Vein Thrombosis (clot in the limb) - no other possible meaning for a negative d:dimer. What about if it's positive? LOL There about a couple of thousand things that could cause a positive result in a d:dimer - 1- aging 2- physical exertion 3- trauma, yada yada yada, yeah I stopped too when I heard that second one. Folks, about 1.5 hours before that blood draw, I was peddling my ass off on my bike, weighed down with those damn freebie papers.
*sigh* shallow breathing problem continues, (has since about April), so now I'm waiting for the Respiratory Clinic to call me to set up an appointment to have the pulmonary function tests done. I'd better not hear anyone tell me it's all in my head. Even Dr Boucier said it - "I don't see any evidence in you that you're having problems with anxiety other than that which you feel because of this problem with shallow breathing." In other words, please, feel free to shit bricks now. Oh goody, I'm on the right track. *sigh*
My friend Joanne, and two of her friends, Chantal and Bonnie, are having an open house for Avon on Saturday December 8th, from 9am to 6 pm at 484 Bousquet Ave. (between 10th and 11th Streets and between Marlborough and McConnell Avenues.)They always have the best open houses! A little bit of everything for everyone, and draws too. Come one come all!
Did you hear about the "almost" lockdown in 2 Long Sault Schools this past week? Seems "suspicious" armed men were seen in the area, so to protect the children, a lockdown was ordered for nearly two hours.
I will be the first one to protect any child, but I do wonder about these "armed men" that were "seen". Anyone out there, over the age of 40, know bloody well that before we had caller ID, call display, or any of those other handy gadgets we now use on a regular basis, that "bomb threats" were extremely common in schools, for children of any ages. If you and your friends wanted the afternoon off from school bad enough, then you risked getting caught and dragged home by the cops (which in those days was something very serious - not anymore though, *sigh*) IF you were caught.
So, who's to say that maybe, just maybe, a couple of kids decide they want that French test to disappear, or maybe they just want to "see what it's like" to make a false claim. It's a lot of attention for a child. A lot of fanfare. It can be very, very tempting.....think about it.
Can someone please tell me why is it that no one knows where exactly the new toll booth for the ground-level bridge is going to go when we were told this issue was settled over one year ago? Yeah, I know, I know, I read the article too. Apparently it was still "up in the air". While a tentative decision had been reached, the powers that be had apparently decided to leave the decision as a temporary conclusion. WTF is a temporary conclusion? Temporary = not permanent. Conclusion = the end or close; final part. (dictionary.com) Um folks, does anyone else see a problem with this? IF THE ISSUE HAS ENDED, HOW THE HELL CAN THE SOLUTION NOT BE PERMANENT? WOULDN'T THAT MEAN THE ISSUE HAS NOT ENDED?
With this kind of logic out there in our universe, the only thing I can think of to say in reply is: I reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy want a cigarette!
Ok that's it for now. I need to get some sleep. I'm working on a project currently that leaves me wanting to walk over to the nearest wall, place both hands palm side down against it at shoulder height, and repeatedly bang my head, in order just to shake the bullshit out of my mind! Yup it can be just that bad.
"If it weren't for sarcasm, I'd never want to speak to you."
|Posted on November 15, 2012 at 9:40 PM||comments (0)|
And who in hell named you God?
We've met them all, in the stores, on the streets, in schools, at our place of work. They're out there. Those people who, for some reason or other, believe they're better than the rest of us. It might be because they make more money than we do, maybe their IQ is higher, maybe they speak more than two languages, maybe thier underwear is whiter...who knows.....and who cares!
I come across these people in various "walks of life" in the course of my job. I can talk to several hundred people on any given shift, and I KNOW I will, at some point, be speaking to someone, who, as my father used to say, "...thinks their shit don't stink!" (Uh huh, my dad was one of those people.)
Why am I stating what we already know? Because I'm curious. Why is it that there are professionals out there, who honestly believe, that because of their careers, they deserve to have us grovel at their feet? And the worst group? In my opinion, doctors. I'm sorry. I know a LOT of fantastic people in the medical profession, quite a few are doctors, but through my own job, doctors are the absolute worst for believing their asses should be kissed if only to talk to us for a couple of minutes of their time. I'm not being figurative here folks. Literally, to talk to them for about 5 minutes, they want me to kiss their ass, pay them, and then grovel at their feet in gratitude. Pathetic!
There are others who feel they deserve special treatment of one kind or another. I have a paper customer who is a nurse, who actually believes she should not have to pay on time for her paper or my service because of her "...vital role in our community." Say what bitch? "vital"? Yeah okay, just how vital are you amongst all the other persons who work in the medical field in our city? What about the paramedics who see to patients long before you even know their condition? Or how about those teachers who teach these people the basic knowledge they need to get through life in general? Are you more important than them?
And we mustn't forget all those parents out there who believe that just because they procreated, they are more important than those of us who kept our wombs/semen out of the baby making business. Or at least knew what we wanted and followed through. No "oops!" in this woman's life, that's for bloody sure!
Folks, if there is one, just ONE of you out there who can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are far more vital than anyone else on this planet, please, step forward and send me your evidence! I will happily look at it.
Let's take this to it's extreme. I'll use myself as an example. Am I more important than say, Hitler? No. I'm hoping I have friends out there who would argue that point, but be careful. Look closely at the wording. "More important". Not "more useful". Not "more loved". Not "more wanted". I said "more important". How can I compare it fairly? How can you? Hitler was an ass, a jerk, a pig, a son of a bitch, but his place in history was and is necessary. He was put here to fulfill a role. That's that. The same as we all are. Thus he was just as important as I am/will be as anyone else. I'm glad the asswipe is dead and long gone, but it is true. His importance is no less than anyone else's.
Look, I don't give a damn what you think of yourself. I don't give a damn what others think of you. But when the time comes for you to actually be more important than myself, or anyone else, please, do us all a favor and slice your wrists. You've just become a waste of space and oxygen.
|Posted on November 13, 2012 at 11:45 AM||comments (0)|
There's something brewing.....
I sure hope I'm wrong. God I hope I'm wrong, but there may be big BIG BIG changes happening that will affect myself and many other people in Cornwall very soon.
I will not go into details without concrete information, but I will post it as soon as I have those details. This could very well be news that would shake up Cornwall. And no, I'm not being sarcastic with this. As I've already said, I pray to God, I'm wrong.
|Posted on November 11, 2012 at 9:15 AM||comments (0)|
Remember our Vets, and I'm not referring to those who care for animals...although they're important too.
I'm just posting a wee bit of an explanation here for some folks. One thing I love about blogging is that someone will always have an opinion about something you write, the method you choose, the words you choose, your timing, your font, the site you use, whatever. And I welcome any and all comments. Just remember, I am going to respond in MY STYLE.
Simply because I say I "Welcome all comments" doesn't mean I'm going to respond with sugar sweetness, and thank you's and gush all over you for taking the time to acknowledge my presence. No. You're writing to me about what I'm writing. You're reading here for a reason. Whatever the reason is, obviously it's something important to you or you wouldn't come back, agreed?
Then why should I show you any disrespect by treating you any differently here than in real life? I love so many of you, and tolerate so many of you, just like you do to me. There's nothing wrong with that; it's how things are. I refuse to be discourteous to you, and dishonest to myself by being anything other than my true self. That includes my use of profanity, crutch words, incorporating my style of speech into the written word, etc.
So the next time you're reading an entry on my blog site, and you find you're offended by something I've said, something I've typed, some sort of interpretation, please remember this:
1) You don't have to come here; it was your choice.
2) I appreciate you taking the time to read; I appreciate your comments; I will answer; I will answer in my style; I will be respectful and courteous to you by being myself.
3) If for some reason the comments section here doesn't work for you (I think you have to be some kind of "member" - sucks I know), you can reach me ---
Facebook - Barb Tessier
Twitter - @SomeOfEvrything - I'm going to talk. I'm going to post. Don't like it? Tough. Deal with it. I put up with the bullshit for 46 years. Now it's my FUCKING turn!
email - [email protected]
4) Regarding my use of profanity - These are words. Yes I use them a lot in writing here. This is reality in script. When I'm calling for Advanis, I become a clerk. When I'm delivering for the Standard-Freeholder, I become a customer-oriented carrier. When I'm not working, I'm myself. If you didn't realize this, then get off the dope you've been swallowing, open your front door, and get outside. Reality awaits you.
|Posted on November 10, 2012 at 6:45 PM||comments (0)|
LMAO I don't believe it!
In the first time in over 2 decades, I saw it. I don't believe it, but I saw it with my screwed up eyesight; a fucking commercial on tv for .......an iron!
Yup, I kid you not, it was a commercial for a T-fal iron, made with paladium (the bottom of the iron) that supposedly does not rust. Who the fuck cares. It's an iron! And what was being ironed? Oh you're gonna love this; it was a woman doing the ironing --- of course! God forbid a man actually picked up this antiquated piece of technology, and she ironed the shirt her young daughter was wearing to go...rollerblading in! The young girl's pants had reflective striping on it, but hey, that shirt was freshly pressed and looking good! Can you believe this??
If I ever saw anyone rollerblading in a freshly pressed shirt, I think I'd go out and buy a gun just to shoot them with! Holy crap man!
|Posted on November 10, 2012 at 10:20 AM||comments (0)|
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know....
Thought I had died, didn't ya? Too bad, too sad, you were wrong. *sigh* I just didn't want to blog. That's it. Pure and simple. No one's reading, so why bother? Then I remembered Barb S. She once told me I make her laugh, and no, she wasn't referring to when we worked at SB, smart ass! She was referring to my blogs.
Ok , that did it. I just put on a pot of coffee, got my desk set up for major time typing, and, oh shit, forgot, I quit smoking 19 days ago, so I guess I won't have to "place my ashtray strategically". *sob* I want a smoke! No, no way Jose. Not doing it. Not this time. (Just to bring you up to speed folks, I smoked for more than 18 years, quit for 5 1/2, started again for another 5, and quit 19 days ago. Why did I start again? Shut up. Like you're perfect. Doofus.)
I'm looking at a list of things I've been wanting to blog about, and it's pretty full of many different things, so this entry is going to bounce around. I'm hoping to blog a bit at least twice a week, but I've said that before, haven't I? (Shut up. I have a life too. It's not much, but it's mine.)
Let's start with my arm/shoulder. Several doc appointments, almost 50 physio sessions, many hours at home spent doing the exercises, numerous curse words exploding out of my mouth when I try to do something and am reminded I can't do that anymore, and here I am. I'm typing fine, but it's a bit more sloppy than it used to be. My muscles and tendons are still being worked on, and will be for a while yet, at least til Christmas. Doc is very pleased, but it turns out what I considered 90% is no where near what he considered 90%. "Able to do everything but shoot freethrows" my ass! I didn't think that description also included little things like reaching up to a cupboard to take down a small can of soup! Now THAT one I can relate to. Shit. Okay. Limited movement, mobility and lifting for the rest of my life. Occasional discomfort, even less occurring aching and pain. Hmmmm. Like just this past Friday for instance? When I had done nothing out of the ordinary and I wanted to slam my entire arm in a car door just to have a different kind of feeling? Hmmm? (psst codein does squat for muscle and tendon pain, and any bone pain in me just doesn't repond to it. My luck. I wonder, is oxycodone as addictive as people say it is? No no no won't go there......hmmmmm...damn, it's tempting...)
Started back at my job on September 11; and it's going well. Same stuff. Calling and giving interviews for market research. My first project back was a fabulous one - one of my faves. The second one, not a favorite but definitely planned! It had to be! I'm talking to people asking them about recent personal care they've had, for example, physiotherapy! Cool! At least I can relate to it. You know folks, going through it myself, it really does lessen the number of times I think "Yeah right crybaby." Now I know why. 'Walk a mile in their shoes.' I'd rather ride a mile.
At the same appointment he said I could go back to work, Doc Corrigan also said I could try my motorcycle. I had tried walking it up and down my driveway to test my arm's strength. Not bad. I know I can do it, and i was excited. I knew it would be best to test myself out in an isolated area, like a parking lot, at a time of day when there would be little traffic - early a.m. is best. Good weather, and I'd be all set. Yeah. It's November 9. This was August 21. There have been two early a.m.'s that would have been great - I wasn't over tired from delivering, didn't have any early appointments or heavy work hours to worry about, didn't miss any sleep, arm didn't give out on me, and both those mornings I had extra deliveries. Is someone trying to tell me something? Cause if they/He is, I really wish they'd use FedEx. This signal/sign/coincidence method of communication really pisses me off to no end. COME ON! If I'm not supposed to ride a motorcycle for some God Damn reason, just tell me. At this moment, my little putt putt is resting in the driveway, gassed up, inflated tires, just waiting for me. And it's currently 35F....that "F" stands for Fucking Degrees. And so it'll stay there.
Oohhh have to tell you this! Now most of you already know, I'm the kind of woman who HATES shopping for clothes. My body is not a pretty one. My sizes are not the easy ones. Shopping for myself is exhausting. Seriously. I can bicycle for hours. I can only clothes shop for two hours max, and I need a nap. NO IT ISN'T OLD AGE! SMARTASSES! (I know Steve thought that one!) Over these past few months, I've been wearing the same jeans for delivering my papers. I'm not ruining my clothes for these things, so I literally wore them out. LOL should see these things! They have holes that would make a rapist's job easy! If I wear them, and that is one big IF, I have to wear pj bottoms underneath so that my *ahem* lady parts are covered. (What was that? Of course I wear underwear you idiot! Sicko!)
Just poured first cup from that pot I set up. Shoulder's aching, but it's a normal ache. I may try a different set up, at least while typing here. I would love a laptop! That would be the best.
Ok let's check out my list.
House M.D. fans - I'm going to be holding a contest very very soon for my House fans/Twitter followers. For over a year now, I've been buying all the music I could that was featured on the tv series. I've bought it from iTunes.ca so it's all legit. I got to remembering when I couldn't afford a single 45 record, (and if you don't know what that is, google the fucking thing!) so I figured I'd offer up a complete set of all the songs I have. (If you're a fan then you're familiar with The Source, a group who's songs were featured many times on House. Well, it appears those songs were never meant for release, that or The Source really thinks they're the cat's meow, because I couldn't find ANY reference to their music outside of House. That includes any type of music search from sites like iTunes, any general net search, and this includes the entire world. Kath, my Twitter friend in Switzerland, took care of searching the Eastern side of the world. Nada. Zip. Nothing. Bipkiss. Zilch. Getting the idea? Problem is, this group is good. A lot of fans I know wanted their music. Sorry folks, but if I can't get it legally, I don't want it. -Doesn't matter, really. I can't find it, legally or illegally.) Any whoo, this contest is basically "answer 10/15 questions correctly - all those who do, shall have their names entered into a draw. One name is drawn. That person wins over 11 hours of House M.D. music. I pay all shipping charges. You pay absolutely nothing. That way, no one can bitch that I received money, thus infringing on copyrights. Ha! All I'm doing is gifting friends with tunes that have already been paid for. And yes, I've kept ALL receipts! If you're interested, or maybe you actually want to follow my tweets, or maybe you're a House fan, or maybe you're just another peep who has nothing better to do with their time, you can go to Twitter.com, and in the search box put @SomeOfEvrything - that's my Twitter name. I don't talk work, I do not breach privacy/confidentiality of others, I do talk about House, but not always. If you're still curious but not a Tweeter, then you can always email me directly [email protected] or go to my Facebook page under Barb Tessier (not the one with the "C" - that's an old account) or you can follow my House MD Quotes Facebook fan page - I post anything to do with House, Hugh Laurie and the cast and crew that I think might be important to others. This will and does include news articles, funny quotes, pictures, etc. Here's the link:
Cup of coffee #2. Let's count together, shall we? No? Then fuck you too!
Now about that list.
I had read in the paper that Guy Lauzon stated he was against illegal immigrants. Well fuck a duck! I'm sure glad he said that aloud! We all thought you were for them. Thanks for clearing that up Guy. D'uh. Who's writing these headlines?
I had a small yard sale in early September. Nothing huge, just to get rid of some crap. I did okay, made about $60, and got rid of enough stuff. But the ditz across the street! whooooo boy! This is a real winner. She has the cops convinced her ex is a stalker. An abusive stalker. Uh huh. Well, during the course of her THREE WEEK yard sale, yup I said three weeks, he visited her in order to pick up his belongings, which happened to find their way into her yard sale. And I tell you right now, there is no way this guy was stalking her. How can I be so sure? Because I have a Social Service Worker Diploma, and one area we study to death, are the traits of victims. This woman did not act like any victim! And she actually parked her two year old daughter in a shopping cart in the driveway of their apartment building. She didn't show any concern for her child being so near that "horrible" man. She did not back down or show any sign whatsoever of fear. Even the strongest victims, man or woman, no matter how strong or prepared, will show some kind of sign of fear of the "abuser/attacker/stalker". This one didn't. (Oh, and by the way, most of the stuff at her yard sale, came from the Agape Bin in the Legion parking lot on 2nd and Cumberland, and from the Salvation Army collection boxes on 5th and Bedford. My neighbour witnessed the Sally Ann "gatherings" and I saw her and her friends at the Agape Bin. Yeah, a real trustworthy bitch.) two kids, third on the way, no two have the same father....wait a minute, this sounds just like that skank who lived at 322 Cumberland for a while. God damned bloodsucking dirtbags. Good thing I work. I like to know that my money is being put to good use, not something stupid, like putting food in my belly or clothes on MY back.
Enjoying things so far, Barb? Good. Keep reading girlfriend. It's going to get nastier!
Do you know how our streetlights are tended to? I do. Because I went looking for answers. I got them. (WARNING: If you consider yourself a taxpayer with rights in our fair city of Cornwall, you may want to take a toke on a dube, chug a Valium or two, take a swig on that bottle, or whatever, before you read on. I'll give you a minute....)
Ok minute's up. Years ago, the contract for fixing/replacing the bulbs in our city's street lights was "given" to Dundas Power. I don't know if they own us. I don't care. All I know for sure is that if something is wrong with a street light in Cornwall, it's Dundas Power Supply that corrects it. Okay? Now read on...
Before my accident, I had noticed an increasing amount of burnt out street lights, and they weren't being changed. After my accident, and a few weeks after that, I noticed the same lights still had not been changed, as well as numerous others needed tending. (We're talking a time span of about 6 months here folks!) So with determination, I logged the location of every light, with whatever problem I could ascertain just from looking at it. If I wasn't sure what the problem was, I put that down with a description of the 'symptoms'. For example, if a light was going on and off, I would note was it off more than on? If so, for approximately how long?(could be the ballast is shot) Did the light normally show as yellowish light and show as bluish only when coming on/off? (sign bulb is growing weaker, having trouble warming up to the desired wattage). Get the idea? I was methodolical...ok I was fucking picky. And here's why - From 9th to Water Streets, from Pitt Street to Brookdale, I had catalogued 27 street lights requiring attention. TWENTY SEVEN LIGHTS WERE OUT! THIS IS APPROXIMATELY A 9 X 6 CITY BLOCK SECTION - it's a damn small percentage of our city. 27 lights is ridiculous! I called Cornwall Electric, who has a prerecorded message with the number to call for "emergency services"...namely Dundas Power. And yes, "emergency" includes light bulbs burnt out.
Well that was back in September. Most of these lights have been seen to. A lot haven't, and there's "new" ones to add to the list. Teena from Dundas Power tells me the work crew doesn't work overnight unless it's winter. (I'm not even trying to touch that line folks. It's just too damned easy.)
JUST FIX OUR BLOODY LIGHTS, WILL YA?
Ok something weird just happened here. Somehow, this page just opened into a separate window, all on it's own and I didn't do a damn thing, so I'm going to save this and add on to it before I lose all I've typed.
I'm back! Had to take a bit of a break, not that you'd notice, but this is my blog, so I'm writing whatever I want. Deal with it.
Cup of coffee number 3 on my way to #4 - don't care if you don't care. No one's holding a gun to your head to read this....or are they? OH MY GOD! DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL THE POLICE? NO? Well then, shut up and read on....
yeah I'm nuts, get over it.
There's something pretty serious I want to get off my chest. The topic is allergies in our children. Could someone please tell me why one child's needs should dictate all other children's actions? You know what I'm referring to. These kids with nut allergies. My heart goes out to them. I know how careful they have to be. I have nasty reactions to colognes and/or strong scents, especially prolonged exposure. It really makes breathing damn hard for me, but never, NEVER have I expected the world to change for my needs. When I go somewhere, unless that place/business has adapted special policies and has made their customers fully aware of those policies, then I do NOT expect any kind of specialized treatment. I do NOT advertise this issue I have.
So please, tell me, why is it that if your child is allergic to peanuts, my child must change their life to accomodate your child? Why must my child be denied a peanut butter sandwich? Why must my child consistently wash their hands "just in case"? Why must they avoid your child as though they have the plague, when all your child probably wants is to be treated as normally as possible? Why can't you teach your child thoroughly, and/or keep them at home? I've taught my child as best as I can. The schools/teachers/attendants do what they can. We have adapted our lives, but why should we LIVE them for you? Your child is different, but my child is expected to live your child's life. BULLSHIT!
Next on the list, coffee #4
I've got new neighbours. Out of the blue, Kevin and Candace announced they were moving. They wanted to develop their family in a more accomodating neighbourhood. Belvedere Crescent. Hmmm. That neighbourhood is considered "ritzy". Then a neighbour/friend confirmed my perceptions; they had spoken with my "friends". Seems they want to upgrade their lives and home, in order to raise their children in a more stable environment. Stability isn't something you buy, it's how you raise your kids/family. And as for upgrading, honey go for it. I wish you the best of luck. This community here is one of the best I've ever seen/been in. Your loss. Not ours. LONG LIVE THE BLUE COLLAR WORKERS! WE WORK HARD! WE HAVE STRONG WORK ETHICS! WE DO NOT WANT EVERYTHING HANDED TO US ON A SILVER PLATTER! WE WANT OUR FRIENDS AND FAMILIES KEPT SAFE; FOOD ON THE TABLE; CLOTHES ON OUR BACKS, HEAT IN THE WINTER AND AC IN THE SUMMER! WE ACTUALLY WANT TO WORK FOR WHAT WE HAVE - THAT WAY WE FEEL WORTHY FOR WHAT WE HAVE. (If we happen to win the lottery along the way, then it's because we deserved to win - HEY, IT COULD HAPPEN!)
ohhhhhhhh I almost forgot about this article, that appeared in the Seaway News in the Friday October 5th issue: Eat the Blue and Green M&M's First.
It's one of those articles that could be funny and/or serious, depending on your point of view. I laughed my ass off!
The article tells about how in northeastern France, certain apiaries have been producing honey in shades of green and blue, only to discover, the bees from these apiaries have been exposing themselves to the waste containers from an M&M's plant nearby. In other words, the crap being disposed of, namely green and blue M&M's, or rather the dyes, sugars, whatever, is being picked up and "eaten", absorbed, sucked up, by the bees, and of course, it's showing up in their honey!
Ok not hilarious, but definitely amusing. Here's what I love; the Mars corporation operates a chocolate factory near the area, about 100km away from the apiaries. Guess what one of the products they produce is? Yup, M&M's. Now, considering all the products that Mars produces, it's quite feasible to assume that this same factory also produces Mars chocolate bars, Snickers, maybe even Twix bars. (And this is just the chocolate line folks!) Now take this one step further --- how about a honey, that tastes like chocolate? Or better yet, a honey layered with caramel that tastes like chocolate! Holy crap, get those bees to sign a contract! If they can make honey change colours then imagine what they can do to the flavor! Bring it on baby! I'll pay the extra for the travelling!
Barb S. I know you'll appreciate this next bitch, rant, rave, etc. My list for blogging items has "fire outside, w/child". It refers to the morons who live behind me at 228 McLean Avenue. They have one of those outdoor patio fireplaces, the one with the removable lid, and they do remove it, even though the law states it has to be used at all times. They like to light BIG fires in it, even though the law has very specific burning regulations for those who use these blasted things mere feet from their neighbours' homes. They like to let their 7 year old boy tend the fire while they're in their driveway, smoking pot. Yes, I'm certain it's pot. I've seen them smoking it. I've smelled it. I've stood there talking to them both while they both have smoked it.The mother's rationalization: I can see him. He's fine. Uh huh. I had enough. For the second time in 3 years, I called the fire department to check if these morons had their permit. This time they did have their permit, but from what I could see they were not following the specifications that are outlined to use it. Namely, the fireplace itself is not the minimum required distance from structures, (their garage or my fence). Their little boy is left to "tend" the fire, and feed it with wood covered in something that results in a grey-green smoke being released (that's chemical smoke by the way), and of course no cover, meaning the sparks are actual embers from the fire being blown around. The fire inspector shows up. What these twits don't realize is that in our neighbourhood, voices carry. Our homes form "tunnels"; sound travels very well. So well, as a matter of fact, I hear the inspector clearly. "She wastes our time with these kinds of calls." *Ahem* So, you consider concern for my property, for their child, a "waste of your time"? Thought it was your job. So, you consider two calls in a three year period a waste of your time? Your attitude might just explain why you're on this kind of call at 10pm instead of actually fighting fires. Hang on! Turns out the inspector is a personal friend of the home owner. The home owner is a general contractor and knows the inspector personally, and he's being introduced to the inspector's rookie partner. (Told you, sound travels very well here, including deep tenor voices.) So, guess that means I'm screwed. Not necessarily. First, if their boy gets hurt, I'll be damned sure to let the proper authorities know. I've kept details of their "actions" if you will. Next, if ANY kind of damage to my home results from their stupidity, I'll sue their asses off, then I'll hunt down that inspector, and sue him for dereliction of duty resulting in damage to my property. Thirdly, I'll make damn sure that the Children's Aid Society looks into this home situation. Hey, I know this woman. She never comes off as anything but a perfect mom. But just think of the headaches an investigation will give them. Pretty fucking sad situation folks. Pretty --- fucking --- sad.
ok going to publish this now, save the other items for another day.
Thought of the day: I so LOVE this one! -----
If you're not interested in what I have to say, then why are you listening to me?
HAVE A GOOD ONE FOLKS!
|Posted on July 4, 2012 at 2:30 PM||comments (0)|
And life goes on...(Pt 4)
HAPPY BELATED CANADA DAY!
HAPPY 4TH OF JULY TO MY U.S. FRIENDS!
This should be the last part to my tale...I heard that sigh of relief! Don't think I don't know that you're bored by now. Too bad; YOU came here. And so we continue...
Penny had picked me up at the hospital, took me to a Tim's and drove me home. She saw me inside, made sure I'd be okay and left. Exciting, eh? THANKS PENNY FOR ALL YOUR HELP!
Almost immediately I was concerned. I knew I'd be okay using my one good arm, but what if I fell? What if something had to be done and I couldn't do it? Aw shut up, I told myself. You felt the same way when your right hand was in a cast from carpal tunnel surgery and you did just fine! If an issue arises, just find another way to take care of it or let it go. What else can you do? That helped. At least I can say that self pity, in moderate doses, can actually be helpful in that it can make you more aware of your limitations and just what you are capable of doing.
Then I noticed, my arm and shoulder hurt like hell! SHIT! I forgot! I had to get my prescription filled! Well, this was one of those times. Do I go without and start my sitting around in pain? Do I try to get a ride for the 4 block trek to Shoppers? Or do I get my ass in gear, protect my arm best as I can, and start walking? Being cooped up in a hospital, on drugs, for 4 days? I grabbed my keys and purse, and left. I also immediately found out just how painful it was going to be every time I just tried to move my arm. Damn. Mental note: DO NOT USE ARM!
I quickly discovered just why I had to shuffle my walk in the hospital; did you ever notice how every step you take has an effect on your entire body? When I tried to walk normally, with nice even strides, each step gives my shoulder a small jolt. Hmmmm, not smart. Ok, so I take small slow steps and it helps, but shit it hurts.
I get to Shoppers where the pharmacist informs me my prescription is for normal ibuprofen 200mg. Are you fucking kidding me? I tell the pharmacist that I had told the doctor I use Advil LiquiGels for my migraines. He tells me the prescription is the same as the stuff sold over the counter. I think out loud, Why would he give me a prescription for the same thing? --then it hits me, the prescription fee. Dang. But, what if there's something about this particular form? As I have no idea I tell the pharmacist my thoughts and say "might as well fill it. With my luck, something will go wrong, and the first thing he'll ask is Are you taking your prescription?" The pharmacist nods and we take care of it.
Yeah yeah yeah, I know, I've taken pharmacology, I have lots of knowledge about medications, but I also know taxes. Even with the extra fee, I know that in a year's time, because of this, my income is going to be super low. The extra deduction will help at that time. This one by itself won't be much, but combined with the other medical costs, I'm expecting it'll help at that time...just not now.
Here's how bad I was feeling; I didn't even want to look at Tim's. Penny had gone through a drive through at my request on the ride home, but I had left my coffee at home. And I was glad I did. I decided to walk west on 1st street; I was pretty sure I wouldn't run into anyone I knew, and I could get home as fast as possible, if you call walking damn slow and careful "fast".
I was wearing one of my tanks with slim straps (which are now my best friends!), my arm was in a sling strapped to my torso, and a thin shirt was thrown over my shoulders. Safety pins became very important for the next little while. My shoulder was so sensitive I could feel the seam of the shirt rubbing the bandage, and I swear I felt each staple it touched, move, so I slipped the right shoulder of the shirt off, exposing the bandage.
About three blocks from my home, I ran into Bob.
I'm stopping here to explain something. Bob is an elderly man in full control of his mental faculties. He is an old world traditional gentleman. Never a kinder person will you ever meet. He recently lost his wife Kathleen, also a person whom should be respected. These types of folks wouldn't hurt a fly. So I wonder, why in hell did what happen next, happen?
Of course, Bob noticed the sling, bandages, my slow gait and, I found out later, my pale skin (pain caused, I guess). His face became lined with concern. He wanted details. I gave him details. I told him all about the accident, the ER, the surgery, the post surgery. I told him everything, and with each sentence, I noticed the ache in my shoulder becoming worse. I told him I had to get home; that I was exhausted and I just wanted to take my medication and go to sleep for a while. He wanted to give me a hug, so I told him, only the left side please, and gently. He reassured me he would be careful. I love this guy, so I stepped in, left side only, and received his right arm reaching for my back, or so I thought. I saw his right hand go right for my right shoulder, but before I could say anything or move, he did it. He grabbed the shoulder and squeezed. Dear God the pain! It was like the accident all over again! I screamed; loudly! I felt my knees give out. I threw out my left hand to keep myself from hitting the ground. "YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" I screamed. "HOW COULD YOU? I JUST TOLD YOU WHAT HAPPENED! I TOLD YOU DON'T TOUCH THAT SHOULDER!" I was crying. The pain wasn't going away. It was getting worse. I could hear Bob saying "I'm sorry", but I really didn't fucking care!
I remember getting to my feet and grabbing onto the fence I fell next to, to pull myself up. I saw Bob extend his hand to help me, and as I turned towards him, his hand went for my right elbow. I blew! "GET AWAY FROM ME!" I screamed. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" As I started walking he said "I didn't know". Oh you...I turned. "You didn't know?" I asked totally pissed off, cradling my right arm with my left. "So you mean you weren't even fucking listening to me when I told you what happened? When you asked me what was wrong with my shoulder and I answered you, you were ignoring me?" He replied, "no I was listening...." I didn't let him finish. "THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU GRAB MY SHOULDER?" And I turned without listening to anymore of what he said.
As I walked, I wiped my face with my left hand, felt gravel scrape my cheek, wiped that off, and kept going, wanting nothing more than to hide away at home.
I got there, got inside, and started to cry even harder. The pain was no worse, but all I could think was "Is this what I'm in for? Do I have to be so damned careful now that when a friend wants to hug me, I have to instruct them?" Yup, that's exactly what I was in for; at least for the next 6-8 weeks while the fracture in the roller ball and the break in my humeris healed.
I had one week to my first follow up with Dr. Corrigan. The first two days were pretty much spent sleeping and forming the opinion that ibuprofen sucks totally for pain associated with muscles, tendons, and bones. I tried but the longest I could stay awake was 3 hours. It seemed that no matter what I did, I was exhausted. A shower left me weak. Warming up soup was "an ordeal". Curious, I of course went on the computer to research this. That's how I found out just how much shoulder movement is required for typing.
I had figured if I raised my forearm; raised my seat; lowered my seat; placed the keyboard a certain way; moved the mouse; whatever, that I would be able to type without pain. LOL damn. I discovered my entire torso would have to be held very straight; straight spine; so that my shoulder wouldn't "droop" forwards. Gravity pulls the shoulder forward and down. And guess what? It hurt. If my arm was held too low, it hurt. Too high, hurt. Just right, hurt. WTF!!!!!!!!!!! (I found out why at my second follow up appointment.)
So by keeping my arm in the sling, fastened snug against my body to limit any shoulder movement, I could type with my left hand. Uh huh. Folks, my last typing test showed I was typing an average of 70 wpm. My job requires I type at 40wpm minimum in order to transcribe what people say over the phone. The average person speaks at 80-100wpm. And even on my absolute best days, I cannot keep up to them. Now, here I was, hoping to return to work ASAP, typing with only my left hand, at about, oh 10 wpm. Ok that plan died pretty damned fast. So I figured maybe, if in addition to the exercises my doc gave me, I used my arm just a little each day, I could heal faster! Why not? That's the whole point isn't it?
Until I saw my doc, all I could manage was the one exercise he gave me. It was very small movement, but when I tried it the first time, it felt like someone ripped off my shoulder. Ok, now I know why he only gave me the one.
I’ve had carpal tunnel surgery on my right wrist, so I have experience with relying on my non-dominant hand for almost everything, but there were two big differences this time; one, the muscles and tendons in my right arm were just fine and two, I could move my shoulder. You have so got to try taking a full shower, shaving included (for women), with your dominant arm duct taped to your waist, just above the elbow. Leave the elbow free so you can bend it, but the entire upper arm must be immobile, held against your body. Now have some psychotic, sadistic son of a bitch stand with you while you bathe/shower, holding a two inch hypodermic. Every time you even think of trying to move that shoulder, instruct the psycho to jam the needle into some part of your upper arm, hold it there for about half a minute, and then take it out. You now have some kind of idea what I felt.
And no, I’m not exaggerating!
In the next few days, I became quite adept at using my left arm and hand for most things. (Good thing I do not currently have a boyfriend, because he would have been extremely disappointed; but I’m sure I would have found the money for an extra box of tissues and some lotion.) I was getting things done, but God they took forever! My first shower took over one hour. Shaving took almost 1 ½ hours. Food preparation wasn’t too bad, but I found I was always eating out of boredom. I didn’t do any housework. I picked up stuff, but that was it. Even bending over to pick up something I had dropped caused pain, til I realized it was because gravity pulled everything down. Not a good idea.
My first follow up appointment with Dr. Corrigan went well. That guy is so busy, he literally just keeps moving, writing, and thinking non-stop. He checked the range of movement in my shoulder, was pleased and told me to make another appointment for 2 weeks time. “Then”, he said, “we’ll talk about physio.” Hindsight is 20/20. I don’t know why, but I never told him that the ibuprofen was ineffective.
Over the next two weeks, I would practice moving my arm; opening doors, personal grooming, using utensils, anything “light”. But everytime I tried, my arm ached like a son of a bitch, with little or no improvement. Oh I was able to regain a little movement, but not much. I told myself to be patient about a million times. During those next two weeks, if anyone asked, I told them I was fine. Nobody wants to hear about how bored I am, how much it hurts, my problems with medication that doesn’t help, etc, so I kept it to myself, for the most part. There were a couple of people whom I know care, so those few I told the truth to.
(During this time, I've actually come across a couple of people who are, let's say, pricks. One thought my accident was hilarious. Another thinks I'm "faking" to get out of work. WTF??? And there were a few who believe that wearing a bicycle helmet would have protected my shoulder. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???)
For pain relief, I gave up on the ibuprofen, trying acetaminophen. Nope. Then acetaminophen with 8mg codeine, (you can get these by asking at the pharmacy in any drug store; they’re sold upon request and you have to sign for it). They didn’t work either. I talked to my pharmacist. He suggested Naproxen Sodium. (You may recognize the brand name Aleve.) I bought the generic. Yeah. 12 HOURS OF RELIEF FROM ONE TABLET MY ASS! Nothing helped! On one day in particular, the pain was really bad; I was actually nauseous. I couldn’t sleep, no appetite and I had tried everything in my cupboard within 12 hours. I didn’t care about interactions. It was that bad. In desperation I decided to try a bath; a nice long soak in warm water. That should help. It did help….too much.
I had filled the tub and immersed my entire body. To my total surprise, all pain disappeared. All tightness, pinching, aching, everything. My arm and shoulder felt totally normal; like nothing had ever happened. I sighed with relief and then it hit me; the second I get out, I'll feel it again. I wanted to stay there. Never leave. That’s a very dangerous sign. I stood up immediately and dried off. (Any of you who have an addiction; smoking, alcohol, drugs, whatever, you know what I’m talking about. First, the absence of pain was dangerous. It misleads you into believing everything is ok. Wrong. The pain guides me. It tells me when I’m doing something wrong, how the healing is going, and so on. Second, if a simple bath and the use of “floating” relieves my body that much, then it’s very likely I’m going to continue looking for other remedies, no matter what they are, such as drugs. Not a safe area.Way, way too tempting.)
Ok, the two weeks did not fly by, but they did move; crawled actually. I was able to mow my lawn with one hand; the front lawn. My neighbour Kevin took care of the back. What a sweetie. I spent most of my time wandering my house looking for something I could try to do; something that would allow me to use my right arm gently. Not a hell of a lot.
My second follow up appointment arrived, and I went in feeling cocky. “I did good”, I told myself. “My arm is moving alright. I got a little bit of muscle control going, and I’m ready for more.” Dr. Corrigan didn’t think so. During the appointment, he tested my range of motion. He didn’t say anything. I didn’t really expect a pat on the back, but a kind word would have been nice, until we chatted about my physio. He told me to make another appointment with him for four weeks later and gave me instructions to get started with a physio clinic ASAP for 4 weeks of gentle ROM physio (range of movement). “Then”, he said, “we’ll move on to aggressive physio”. I didn’t like the sound of that one! (And I hate it when people use ‘we’ instead of ‘you’. I don’t recall my doc saying he’d come along…
I expressed my concern with “What do you mean by aggressive? Cause I won’t let anyone pull, push, pry or force my arm into positions that hurt.” That was when I realized just how well he knew me. He explained what is meant by gentle physio. “It’s to help and maintain the range of motion. It should not hurt.” He looked directly into my eyes. “If it hurts then you’ve done too much. Remember that.” Oh shit. He knew. He knew what I had been doing and I hadn’t even told him! “I thought I was doing good. Really. I did.” He explained to me that I wasn’t. He told me that my bones have to heal before I try anything other than the exercises he gave me. The plate in there is for support. It doesn’t replace the bones. I now need another 4 weeks for them to heal, increasing my expected bone healing time from 6 to 7 weeks. At least that was my understanding. From a little research I discovered I had been "stressing the fractures/breaks". The pain I was feeling was all bone related; not muscular as I had thought. There's always pain associated with bones healing, but apparently not as much as I was experiencing, or something like that. (I didn’t have the balls to tell him I had stopped using the sling that was supporting my shoulder and that it was after my long walks when my arm ached the most. I kept my mouth shut, vowing to use the sling anytime I could.)
In my defense, HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? I broke my right leg when I was 2, but don’t remember much of that. I broke a toe in my twenties. I’ve broken glasses, teeth, nails, dishware, technological devices, vacuums, but nothing that would require physio.
I knew he was damned serious, especially when he said he was giving me a prescription for “something stronger for the pain”. He handed me a script for Tylenol 3’s (half acetaminophen/half codeine), with the instructions TWO at a time every 4-6 hours for pain. (I only take one at a time. Two would have me naked, on some rooftop, doing my Lady Gaga imitation!
I suppose I could tell you about the asshole in Harv’s Diner who shoved my right side so he could get his fat ass to his cholesterol-laden breakfast. Or about how excited I was to see the SnowBirds on July 1, and how those 2 fucking seconds just flew by, (pun intended), or about how I’ve been VERY careful with my arm, following Doc Corrigan’s instructions to the latter, which has helped a lot, but I’ll just move on to the physio research story….
Dr. Corrigan had given me a list of 10 physio clinics here in Cornwall, and told me to call them all to make my decision. He also warned me that only one used OHIP coverage, and that was only partial coverage. Now I got worried. How in hell was I supposed to be able to afford coverage, but how could I not do physio? I have an RSP with $1500 in it, but that’s being used to cover my bills until sick leave kicks in, and after that to cover any shortages. I remember my sister Anne offering me a loan. I knew I would have to call her.
I walked to the pharmacy, and then home, formulating a plan of action. First, I warded off the panic. “Come on Barb! You’ve been in worst places….oh wait, no you haven’t.” Geeze, even my alternate self wasn’t helping this time! I got home and set about making a few phone calls.
First, I called my sister and left a message that I had to talk to her and her husband. I was not going to have only one of them make the decision to loan me money. I wanted both involved. As of the time I'm writing this entry, that was 10 days ago, and I'm still waiting for their call!
Then, I went to the website for OHIP. The information I had researched weeks before was the same; apparently I was covered for 50 sessions but liable only for the assessment fee. Then I called the OHIP information line and spoke to a live person. She confirmed it. Yup I’m covered. I meet the eligibility requirements. However, it was possible that the clinic could handle things differently. Hmmmm. Ok. I called the Cornwall Physiotherapy Clinic, which is the one that uses OHIP. Within the first minute I found out my friend and neighbour Jean works at this clinic and was the person on the phone I was talking to. I knew she’d be straight with me.
She reassured me I would have FULL coverage for up to 50 sessions of physio, and I probably wouldn’t need all of them. There is a $50 assessment fee, but I expected that. Here’s the kicker; their location. They’re pretty much on the corner of South Branch Road and Pitt. (For anyone reading this who isn’t familiar with Cornwall, let me clue you in; I live between 3rd and 4th Streets on Cumberland. That means by bicycle, it would take approximately 25 minutes. And I’ve biked it enough to know. By car, is about 15 minutes. By foot, maybe an hour or a bit more. They moved to this location in the past two years. Care to guess where they were located before this? Try this on for size; they were located near Water Street on Cumberland – less than a 5 minute walk from my home! How’s that for ironic? I don’t have to shell out a fortune for physio, but my feet are going to be sore! I’ll probably take the bus one way, and walk the other. At least that way I won’t go broke paying bus fares!
And don’t forget, they are the ONLY clinic in town that use OHIP.
When all is said and done, I have to say, I’m quite excited with this learning experience. I love learning. New experiences excite me…well, once the pain and initial trauma are over, I should say.
My assessment is tomorrow, and that’s when I’ll find out the details. I won’t get my four weeks of gentle ROM done before I see the doc again on the 24th, but at least I’ll be well into it.
I’ve been writing this entry over the past 4 days, a bit at a time, saving it on my computer. I knew I would remember things that I wanted to post about, and I’m certain things/situations/occurrences will come to mind after I’ve posted this entry, so don’t be surprised if, in the near future, you notice things like, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you…..”
My heartfelt thanks to Steve and Chad and Marc (driver). They know why.
Aching is growing so I'm signing off for now.
Thought for the day; there are times when some of us will push ourselves to our limits, and then past those limits, extending ourselves, maybe even expanding those limits. Although you may trust a professional’s words, remember, they’re only human. They could be mistaken, but maybe they’re not. The choice is, and always will be yours. When testing your limits, please remember, what is beyond those limits may not be good for you. The consequences may be more than you’re willing to pay. There may not even be anything past those limits. Those limits you’re testing may be as far as you can ever go. So I say to you…. “FUCK IT! How are you supposed to grow, learn, develop without testing your limits? GO FOR IT, BUT BE CAREFUL!” You can’t bake a cake without breaking a few eggs, just keep in mind, eggs are difficult to clean up!
|Posted on June 21, 2012 at 12:50 AM||comments (0)|
And life goes on...(Part 3)
Hello again. When I left off, I had just been put "under" for my surgery.
I woke up in a ward room; four beds. OHIP only covers ward rooms. But I didn't care. I remember a nurse telling me everything went well and to try to get some rest. I was shaking. I heard her ask me if I was cold. I never answered. I passed out.
I don't know how much longer I slept for, but I awakened a second time to one hell of a gorgeous man in a police uniform standing at the foot of my bed asking if he could ask me a few questions. The nurse on my right side, trying to make me more comfortable with a pillow for support under my arm and a couple of thick cotton sheets spread over me, shooed him away, saying "You can't talk to her now. She just got out of surgery." I wanted to tell him to come back, but I couldn't speak. Once again I was told to try to sleep and to not worry about not being able to speak. "It's from the dry mouth. You're being given morphine. It's a side effect." I am quite familar with the side effects of narcotics, so I was able to relax and drift off again, but not before a thought passed through my head; "Why is my shoulder three times larger than my other one?"
I woke up to darkness. It was the middle of the night, and a nurse was giving me something. Either the morphine, the antibiotic or the "flushing", (a saline solution used to flush out the tube in my hand. The antibiotic actually clogs the tube; it's kind of thick, or so I was told.) The anesthesia was gone. I was fully alert. Turns out my right shoulder was three times larger than my left because of all the packing and bandages. LOL it never occured to me that a surgical wound would require a lot of bandages. Shows how often I've been in the hospital!
My night nurse was CHANTEL. What a wonderful person! Damn! She was so concerned about my comfort. She came in to my room every chance she got, just to "...make sure all is ok!" She wasn't overly cheerful. She wasn't sickeningly sweet. She was a-ok.
She gave me the general info; meds I was receiving, feeding times, let them know if there's any redness, swelling, soreness around the iv feed site, etc, and "do not move unless you have to go to the bathroom! Dr. Corrigan's orders!" I was fine with that.
Breakfast arrived at 8 am, and I was starved!! With a lot of trouble I managed to sit up and I practically inhaled my breakfast. Turns out that was one sign they were looking for. Everyone knew I hadn't eaten since Friday night, and here it was Sunday morning. (Quick note here; I have always liked the food at the Hotel Dieu Hospital, now known as Cornwall Community Hospital - McConnell, or the Janet McDonnell Pavillion site.)
I met ASHLEY, the daytime nurse. Very professional. At first I thought she was cold, but as we spoke, I found out she loves helping people, but she does her best to remain detached, so she can do her best. And she does do great work.
I was sent for a follow up xray, and then back to my room. I spent the day on morphine and sedatives so it's kind of fuzzy. I remember Dr. Corrigan stopping in, telling me everything went beautifully and my xrays showed that all was taken care of. I think he told me to take it easy and get plenty of rest.
My friend Penny visited me. She offered to get me some personals from home. Thank God for her. The company was so welcomed, and we hadn't talked for a long time. I can't remember if she came back later Sunday or if it was Monday, but she had bought me slippers! THANKS PENNY! And of course the things from my home I had asked for. (God the mess she saw in my home! I normally house clean on the weekends, so my home was a mess. I cringe when I think of it.)
I'm not talking too much more about Sunday. I'm too afraid of "false memories", but damn the food was good!
I had a lot of trouble sleeping Sunday night. The muscles in my shoulder would spasm, feeling like someone was shoving a knife into me. I remember the nurse having to increase my morphine at 4am. I had told her I wanted to go for a walk to try to bring sleep, and Dr. Corrigan had apparently left orders for my morphine to be upped if necessary, and for a sedative. That was the only time I felt a "buzz" or "high" from the drugs. I remember the room spinning, my brain going foggy, and muttering, "Maybe I'll try to sleep right here." I heard Chantel chuckle. "I think that's a good idea." And darkness took over once more.
I woke up a few hours later to breakfast; about 8 am, and I was hungry! (With all due respect, Cream of Wheat SUCKS!) That day I met a second day shift nurse, and unfortunately I never got her name, because she was one real bitch!
With my first dose of medication for the day, I noticed it really hurt when the nurse put it in. It never had before. I looked down, said "That one really hurt." I noticed my left hand had turned bright red and swollen. Right away I pointed it out to her. She said "The flushing usually stings a bit going in. That's alright." And she walked away before I could say anything. May be I was overreacting. I let it go.
The next time she gave me my meds, it hurt like hell! "Hey" I said, "It's really hurting and it shouldn't! That's what the night nurse said!" I was looking down at my hand and to my total shock, she literally shoved the plunger down with force, causing my hand to burn and feel like someone had just hit it with a hammer. "HEY!" I yelled. "What are you doing?" She just took her things and left; not a word. Holy shit!
A couple hours later, I think, Ashley came in to help me take a shower. I told her all about what happened. "I know it's supposed to sting a bit, but I'm telling you she did it intentionally!" Ashley took one look at my hand and said, "That should have been changed long ago. We'll take care of it now." I looked right at her and said "Ashley, I'm sorry, but I don't want that nurse anywhere near me ever again." She replied "She won't be. I'll take care of you from here on." I was so relieved. The rest of the day was made up of some chit chat with my roomies, a shower, a dressing change, a few walks around the grounds, and a visit from Dr Corrigan asking me if I'd like to go home Tuesday. LOL I don't know if they were getting tired of me or what, but I said "YES!"
I spent the evening talking, walking, dozing, ...and that's about it. When SOMA, my other night nurse came on duty, I warned her I would probably have trouble sleeping that night as I was going home the next day. She assured me I could get a sedative. (Soma was every bit as wonderful as Chantel! Folks, if you ever have to have surgery, and you know you'll be spending time in the Post Operative Department, watch for Chantel - nights, Soma - nights, and Ashley - days. You will be in good hands. I guarantee it!)
Monday night was spent with teeny tiny little bits of sleep; even with the sedative. Almost no effect on me. Oh well. Dr Corrigan had tried Percoset as a alternate to the morphine, and I warned him, it will have no effect on me, as a doctor tried it once before with me. He suggested we try it, and it had no effect. I had to make do with ibuprofen, AND IT DIDN'T HAVE ANY EFFECT EITHER! So I walked. I chatted with peeps. I went outside to smoke. 8am came; I had breakfast. Good once more. Then at about 9 am I started getting ready to go home. I am so unfamilar with the check out policy, that I actually went to the nurses' station with all my belongings packed into my backpack, asking "Ok, now what?" LOL I was told Ashley would be in with the release papers as soon as she was done. I could hear giggling as I returned to my room.
Ashley was in moments later. I signed the papers. She explained Dr. Corrigan's orders, and I left. I sat at the picnic tables outside of the ambulance bay and called Penny.
As I waited, I reflected on my first stay in a hospital. It was pretty cool, except for the surgery and that one bitch of a nurse. The staff, for the most part, were pleasant and very helpful. Even RON. I almost forgot him. He'd come in each morning, offering warm wet cloths to wipe our faces and necks with. His smile and sense of humour tickled me. I said he reminded me of Ron James, the comedian. He said he doesn't look anything like him. I agreed, but, I said, you make me laugh.
Ok took a bit longer at this than last two times. Shoulder's twinging, or spasming, whatever. Part 4 should be the last part.
Til then folks...............
Thought of the day: When working with the public, the use of scents is pretty much hit and miss, but when it comes to a health care facility of any kind, LEAVE THE SCENTS AT HOME! This applies if you work there, are admitted, have a simple appointment, WHATEVER!
DON'T BE SO FUCKING STUPID AS TO THINK THAT PERFUMED LOTION, APPLIED SEVERAL TIMES A DAY, IN A CLOSED IN HOSPITAL WARD ROOM, WILL NOT AFFECT ANYONE!
Allergies are not the only problem. Many of us will have reactions to scents that are not classified as "allergies". So when medical personel ask us "Do you have any allergies?" Guess what? We're going to say no!
AND DON'T ASK YOUR FAMILY MEMBERS TO BRING IN YOUR FAVORITE SCENTED LOTION, POWDER, SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER, WHATEVER! LEAVE IT AT HOME AND ALLOW EVERYONE TO BREATHE EASY WITHOUT THE HEADACHES BEING LOCKED UP WITH THAT SHIT FOR 24 HOURS CAN CREATE!
Come on people. Common sense!
|Posted on June 17, 2012 at 7:20 AM||comments (0)|
And life goes on....(Pt 2)
Hello again. Right now it's Father''s Day, 723 am, and I'm taking a shot at finishing your update. I'm in a good mood, the arm feels ok, not aching too much so I figured before I do something to make it hurt more, I'd get a few words in. So, here we go....
When I left off, I had just called the ambulance. It arrived in good time, took me away to the old Hotel Dieu site. (The paramedics were great. 2 women who were extremely considerate. I'm going to try to find out who they were.)
I remember being in the ambulance, arriving at the hospital, but not much else in the beginning. There was the usual; clothing removal, tag affixed to my wrist, but what confused me the most was how fast everything happened.
I had worked in this very hospital both as a volunteer and as a clerical assistant on job placement, plus my mom had stayed here a couple of times, so this place and the protocol was familar to myself. To receive such quick care, such attention meant only one thing; I was messed up bad. And I was right.
I remember one asshole doctor, who had come over to tell me they would be taking me to xray very soon. I was crying. My entire arm and shoulder was aching so bad, it felt like someone was literally pulling it off my body. And this young, tall dark doctor turns his back on me, walks a few feet to where 3 nurses are standing there, and says "Stoic, isn't she?" and rolls his eyes. They laugh. "WTF!" I think. "They haven't even taken xrays, they don't know what's wrong and this jerk is mocking me?"...and just for the record, no they don't give you pain killers until they know what's wrong.
I was taken for xrays which was very hard. Seems for a shoulder xray you don't lie down, you sit up with your back to a screen. The problem was shoving myself back far enough on the table. I couldn't use my dominant arm to help myself, and every move sent spasms up that arm. (Spasms=a sudden, abnormal, involuntary muscular contraction, consisting of a continued muscular contraction--and when these muscles are surrounding broken bones...THAT'S WHEN THE PAIN GOES FROM ACHE TO SHARP STABBING JOLTS!) The tech for xray was marvellous. She actually apologized to me because I wasn't back far enough.What a dear!
Ok, xrays done, I'm back in the hallway. I have no idea how much time has passed. I remember a nice man giving me ice packs; that helped. I remember the day passing. I remember someone telling me I was being admitted and that Dr. Corrigan would be down to talk to me. (Who the hell is Dr. Corrigan?) And I remember being told I was going to get a CT scan. Now it was certain; I had messed up the entire upper portion of my right side of my body pretty damned bad.
A friend and a customer, Terry, was in the hospital working. She saw me, and turns out she was the one to take me for my CT. Her companionship at that time was so damned appreciated. The only person I would have called was my sis Anne. The hospital did try calling her, but all I had at the time was her home number and she was at work.
Terry took me for my CT and the tech there was fabulous too! My God, did all the people hidden away have these terrific attitudes? Get them to the front of the lines! The space to fit into the CT scanning machine isn't exactly small, but she was so concerned about my shoulder just barely touching it, she positioned my upper body very carefully; left arm over my head, and she even rolled a towel for under my shoulder. (you'll love the next part; I want you all to try it!) It was the absolute most comfortable I had been since before the accident. I asked her if I could keep that towel right there and she said of course. I told her she was the one who made me the most comfortable since I had been there, and she replied with "It's my job. I know you're in pain and I'll do whatever I can to help." and you know me, I said "So what's with the few assholes up there in the ER then?" or something like that. She laughed.
(About that towel.) During this time I had discovered something. I want you to lay down on your back. Feel your shoulders touch down, but don't force them. That is actually a movement. Your shoulders are pulled down by gravity. The muscles relax, usually, and the ball joint at the shoulder allows the arm to fall down into laying down position. It's a very small movement, but when everything in dislocated and broken...IT FUCKING HURTS! And because of the movement, more spasms of the surrounding muscles occur. So when I say I was grateful for such a considerate person, I~MEAN~IT!
Back to the hallway to wait for whatever. A short time later, I meet Dr. Corrigan. He's not exactly smiling, and he looks concerned. He tells me what's wrong with my shoulder and arm, and I hear everything. He tells me I need surgery and that I will be admitted. I won't be going home for days. I think he patted my leg and told me to try to rest. The surgery will be soon. (Ok I think. Something else to be terrfied of. The only surgery I've had has been carpal tunnel and wisdom tooth, and neither were a pleasant experience.) He asks me if I have any questions and the only thing on my mind seems infantile, but important, so I blurt out "Will I be totally unconscious for the surgery? Cause I don't want any stupid local!" "Of course you're going to be out. I wouldn't attempt this any other way." God the relief! You hear so much about how hospitals are encouraged to use local instead of general anesthetic. I swear, I had no idea of what all was involved, so my thoughts immediately went to the worst possible scenario.
Some time passes; I have no idea if it was seconds, minutes, hours...I didn't doze off, no matter how much they tried to relax me, but by this time Dr. Corrigan had ordered pain meds, so that did help. And no, I didn't get buzzed, high, or woozy. The nurse hooks me up, gives me a shot via the iv lead in my left hand, and tells me to stay on the gurney. (While waiting I had gone to the bathroom, little walks, etc. They finally had to tell me to stop it and stay put. LOL now THAT sounds like me!)
I'm lying there, my eyes open and I see Dr. Corrigan on the phone at the ER desk. I can hear his voice but can't make out what he's saying. Then his voice raises. I'll always remember that moment. "No, he's not next. Barbra Tessier is. We HAVE to get her in there now!" O-M-F-G!
Folks, you want to talk fear! Holy crap, shit, fuck, whatever expletive you want to use when you feel your blood run cold, your heart rate shoots up, insert here.
Now I'm being rolled to surgery and a small woman with a kind face meets us in the hallway. It's Dr. Chen, the anesthesiologist. She explains what she will be doing, asks a couple of questions about my last meal, tells me not to worry. I ask her "I'll be completely out?" She smiles and says "Yes. I'll make sure of it." Once again I'm so relieved. She's nice and doesn't make fun of me. The nurse pushing me asks if she can take my glasses now. I say ok, and she tells me if I want they can leave them on until I'm out. I say no it's okay to take them now, not like I'm really going to need them in the next few minutes anyways. She takes them off my face and tells me they'll be nearby when I wake up. I didn't even notice I had been crying again.
They wheel me into the OR, push my gurney next to the table, and with some help, the transfer my body onto the table. In the midst of doing this, I lift my head and see something shining; REALLY shining. It's the instruments the doctor will be using, all lined up, ready and waiting. I address the nurse. "Ma'am?" "Yes?" she says. "I'm glad you took my glasses before we got here, cause I don't think I want to see what I'm looking at." And that was it. I don't know if my blood pressure skyrocketed or what, I just know at that second they put me out. And I'm very glad they did.
And for your information, it is not just like falling asleep. When you fall asleep, there's a short period of time in which you are semi-awake. When general anesthesia is used, you are awake and the next second you are asleep. That's it.
Ok arm's aching like a bastard, need to do excercises to loosen up and then take care of that aching, so best to get off now. Took almost two hours to type so little. I have my left hand still. It's slow and frustrating, but at least this is something to do. DAYTIME TV SUCKS BIG TIME, EVEN ON THE WEEKENDS!
I plan to type more in next day or so. Watch for it!
Thought of the day; As adults, there are always things we will regret doing. Things that will leave us shaking our heads in bemusement, asking "What the hell was I thinking?" For myself, I sit here wondering.....
WTF did I ever see in daytime soaps? Holy crap! Was I high? Did someone have a gun to my head?Talk about your cry for help!! Oh well, chalk it up to being young and foolish.....
(No offense is or ever was intended for soap lovers. If you're offended by my opinions, tough! I'm entitled. Besides what did you expect? I'm a realist, and that includes tv shows. If that's not good enough for you, then please, feel free to bite me on my cellulite riddled ass; it's cheaper than liposuction. )
|Posted on June 15, 2012 at 9:35 AM||comments (0)|
And life goes on....
Whooo weee it's been a long, long time since I've blogged, but for once it's been because I've been busy, busy, busy!
So, let's start where we left off, shall we? And as I'm typing this with one hand, it's going to be a long drawn out process. (Yes, I said one hand, and I'll explain when we get to that, so no jumping ahead!) Right now, this very minute, it is 927 am Friday June 15. Let's see when I get this done. My left hand has gotten quite used to "taking care" of me, but let's see how good it has become, shall we?
Here's what I had started to blog on May 7------this will be my Head Start: (blue script)
Hoooo boy! What an interesting, busy last four weeks I've had! Hardly time to think, let alone blog! This might be a wee bit long folks, so get your coffees, put your feet up, light 'em if you smoke and get ready for some ranting, cheering and general insights.
Let's start off with Twitter. I became a tweeter in the past 5 weeks, primarily because of the tv show House MD. I met two people immediately, who's interest mirrored my own. HELLO TO V. IN SWITZERLAND (she's a doc) and to S. IN MUNICH (a travel agent). They made me feel quite welcome to this family of fans, and we've been chatting ever since. I currently have 48 followers, and I follow 109 myself. I started making pic w/text's for my friends/followers/House fans, and I must say they get quite a good response. (Pics w/text means I take a still picture from House MD and add a caption to it that reflects an emotion, state of mind, etc. Usually they're quite humourous.)
I really enjoy making these pics w/text, as they are well received by almost everyone.
Working can be quite difficult as times, as during the slow periods I'm soooo tempted to start tweeting, but my work comes first. That's a must!
HEY! I got my motorcyclist's license! YAHOO! Ok so currently at M1 level until May 26th. Pretty much that means, limited roads, speeds, and only during daylight. On May 26th, I go to the Driver's License Center, hand over the sealed envelope containing my certification papers, and they'll hand me my M2 License. That means I can ride day or night, any road, highway, etc. Pretty much everything but the major national highways. For that level, the M level, I have to have had my M2 a minimum of 18 months, to a maximum of 5 years, and pass the road/highway driver's test. Sheesh! Leave it to the government to make things complicated! And if I don't take the road/highway test before the 5 years is up, POOF! I lose all I've worked for and have to start from scratch.
I have got to thank Irwin's Motorcycle Supply, on Tollgate, specifically Tom Irwin, for all the help and advice he's given me. What a great guy and business!
And here's where we pick up on June 15, about 6 more weeks after that blog entry I started, never finished, so never posted.
I picked up my motorcyclist's M2 exit, as they call it, on Monday June 28. (the office was closed on Saturday the 26th, so I had to wait. FIGURES!) As a reward, I went to Irwin's that same week and ordered a new helmet I've been wanting. I was so excited! My riding has been improving; still a couple of things to work on, but I am very determined, and having loads of fun! I can only get out to ride a couple times a week, but that's ok. I have years of fun left in me.
Work's been a little crappy, but had one great project I really enjoyed. That week went fast, let me tell you!
Deliveries really picked up! Getting lot of extra work and it's going to help so much with the bills. Summer's looking great, and I'm feeling fine.
Having lots of fun on the piano. Brenda says I'm doing terrific, and I'm enjoying it immensely. Wish I had more time to practice.
Twitter friends and myself consoled each other over the ending of House. What a show! What a great bunch of tweets, tweetettes and twerps! I'm thinking of upgrading my phone so I can tweet on the go,,....or on the sofa! LOL I could watch tv and tweet. By the way, for everyone out there, not all tweeters tweet exactly what they're doing at that time, like "feeding dog". For the most part, we have normal conversations, just as if we were on the phone with each other. There are plenty of us who do not want to reveal our exact movements to the entire world!
I should mention here that I've had to "defriend" several people on my Facebook account. Seems one family member I trusted has the same people on his list, so one family member I don't trust has been going through his lists to get information about myself and my little sis. Oh well. You can always call your friends family but you can't always call your family friends. Family is not most important is life; TRUE friendship is.
Going to be holding a yard sale sometime this summer. I'll be sure to let everyone know when. I was hoping to have had it by now, but that idea didn't work out. You'll find out why soon enough...read on.
I mentioned I'm typing this one handed; left hand to be precise, so it's taking me a long time. And it's painful. You see, on June 2, at about 5am, I was on my bicycle, making my way to my next route, in heavy rain. (And those of you who know me, when I say heavy rain, I mean HEAVY rain.)
As is typical, when bicycling in the rain, (and no, it was not intentional. The skies opened up while I was on my way.), anyone who's done this will tell you, you bob your head up and down, every couple of seconds. This helps keep the rain out of your eyes so you can see, (if you wear glasses it's a must), and you scan the area in front of you for any obstacles. I had my hat and rain gear on, but as the wind was coming from the east, (the direction I was going in; figures!) the rain was slamming into my face anyways.
I got to the corner of Amelia and 4th East, took quick look, saw the way was clear, and continued on. Quick look, down, quick look, C-A-R! Yup, a solid black car parked on the road, LEGALLY, was right in my path. There was absolutely no time to stop, swerve or even jump off. I did the only thing I could do; rely on my reflexes. I turned my handlebars to try to lessen the impact and flung out my right arm to shove myself away from the car, hoping to just tumble off. It didn't work out that way.
Basic physics taught me that when a moving object collides with an immovable object, the force of motion, kinetic energy, is transferred along the object that did the colliding, which was my arm and shoulder.
PAIN! That was all I felt. I didn't even "fly" off my bike, I sort of stumbled off. That's how fast I stopped. And no, I was not biking fast. Remember, the rain was hitting me in the face. I'm not an idiot. I was taking my time. The problem was simply that the force, or kinetic energy had no where else to go except up my arm and through my shoulder.
Now, as my body is not heavier than the car, it absorbed the full impact, dislocating my right shoulder from the joint. The upper part of my humeris, the upper bone in the arm, broke. The roller ball joint which connects the humeris to the shoulder, cracked. (I found out later that my doc was astounded that the ball had cracked yet my collarbone was completely intact; not even bruised. Apparently it takes a lot of force to crack the roller ball joint; much more than to break the collarbone. I remember joking with him, "Want me to go back and try it again?") And just for good measure, the parts that dislocated, moved out of positon to places they were not intended to be.
So, I'm sitting there, on 4th St E, crying, feeling like my arm has been cut off, screaming - SCREAMING - for help, at 5am, trying to get my cell out to call someone. I was finally able to call 911 and get an ambulance. While on the phone, a couple of cars came by. The first car didn't even stop. They were kind enough to swerve around me. The second car stopped, and the driver made sure help was on the way, but he had to go to work. While I talked, or rather, cried and screamed with him, the ambulance dispatch still on the line, the owner of the vehicle I had hit came running out. He looked terrfied; for me, not his car! His name is Marc G., a wonderful, considerate man. Right away the ambulance pulled up and Marc was reassuring me he would take care of my bike, and personal belongings until I could pick them up. During all this, somehow I had the presence of mind to call my driver and tell him I had 2 routes that still had to be delivered. (Hey, the job is the job and the work still has to get done!)
I'm afraid I'll have to stop here for now. Even though I'm only using my left hand, my upper right arm and shoulder feel the pain of sitting at a desk. I'll try to finish this off in the next couple of days. Of course I will post and email when I add on. Hope you all understand.
Though for the day; right now it's 1054am. That means it's taken me almost 1 1/2 hours to type this little bit, with no interruptions. Sheesh! no wonder I'm aching!
Have a good day, and remember, there are just times in life where no matter what you do, no matter what you've been taught, and no matter how much experience you have, life is going to teach you what "fate" truly is.
|Posted on April 7, 2012 at 6:30 AM||comments (0)|
Get it off your chest......
Did you read in the news in the last day or so about the Ottawa woman who got a lung transplant? How she probably never would have gotten the lungs if Justin Bieber and Ellen Degeneres hadn't seen her tweets and paid attention? Is this what we've come to? The only way a person's life can be saved is if a celebrity or two takes notice? The person from whom the lungs came had signed an organ donor card. I've signed one and I'm fully registered with the province of Ontario as a registered organ donor, (in the event of my death of course, cause if someone shows up at my front door wielding a scalpel, I am NOT letting them in!)
This woman got what she needed to live because she took the bull by the horns. She forged ahead and fought, preaching about the importance of becoming an organ donor. Makes me wonder if when we require help of any sort, if we make enough noise, will we get what we want? Apparently there were many lungs available, it's just that the previous owners had not signed organ donor cards.
Look folks, many of you know I'm no fan of society in general, but can you honestly say that you'll need your organs when you're 6 feet under? Hey, I'm a smoker, but I've still signed one. While I don't help as many people as I used to, (probably because I got fed up of being used like a tool and decided to tell the world to go to hell), but the idea that one of my organs could actually give someone else a chance at life is enough to spur me on.
A few years ago, a neighbour of mine had a kidney transplant. She was 75 years old. Age is one of the considerations for transplants, but I guess someone on some committee thought it was a good idea. So did I, until I talked to her one day. She was actually telling me "...yeah some 19 year old got herself killed and I got a nice young kidney out of it!" For Christ's sake! She was actually bragging about a young girl dying; disgusting. This 75 year old died 2 years later. As her health had started to decline she decided to neglect her routine health care, which included that nice young kidney. I want to cry when I think of all the decent people that kidney could have gone to, but that's up to fate. I'm sure that woman died never fully having appreciated that kidney.
Sign an organ donor card, please, and register with the government - that's the only way it can be fully established. You'll be dead. What fucking use will your organs be to you?
My contractor Phil and one of his guys were here Thursday to make the renos to my garage so I'll have more room for outdoor work and for my bicycles and motorcycle. I posted pics. Nothing fancy but I do like Phil's work.
Fresh coffee by my side right now, and trying to think of something to write about.
Ahhhh springtime is officially here, but you wouldn't know it from the temps! The wee hours of the morning are still quite cool and damp. Not too nice when you're trying to avoid irritants to your lungs, as per doc's orders, and you're carrying a bag full of papers while walking for 2 hours.
Oh that reminds me, HEY PEOPLE! JUST BECAUSE THE SNOW IS GONE, DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN LEAVE CRAP IN THE WAY OF YOUR STAIRS! GET YOUR KIDS TO PICK UP, AND YOU YOURSELVES PUT AWAY THE TOOLS AND GARDENING SUPPLIES!
And while you're at it, how about putting away the Christmas decorations, hmmmm?
Have you ever tried to find a nice pair of leather boots here in Cornwall? Don't bother. I found more choices and opportunities by searching retailers online throughout North America in five minutes than I found in two weeks in Cornwall! Geez, no wonder people say we've got nothing here; I'm beginning to think they're right.
And on that note, thank God someone finally thought it would be a good idea for our hospital to have an MRI machine. No....really? So then all those people who get "rushed" to Ottawa for a simple MRI, what? They didn't give you a clue? I wish I had the money to buy it for them. I think an MRI machine should have been bought before a CT scanning machine. Here's a problem I see coming soon...how old is our CT machine? How often does it get used? Anyone else think that it may soon be time for a new updated model?
Seriously, if I won millions in the lottery, I'd buy all the equipment for our hospital. I'll probably need it myself one day, and I'm sure if I keep the receipts, I'd get fast service!
Did I ever tell you how I decided to NOT torture my little sis this past Christmas? I'm going to tell that story now. If I have already told it, too bad. I'm running out of things to say here.
Late last year, during one of our conversations, my sister revealed to me her concerns regarding the Mayan prophecy for Dec 21, 2012. Ok she's scared shitless! I tried to reassure her. "Anne, look at it this way: if it is only something really big that'll be changing, like technology, there's really nothing you can do about it. Keep a few candles, batteries, water, lifejackets ( ) on hand, and just go about life. If the world does end, what are you going to do? Run outside, hold up your hands and yell at it to stop? No. Grab a cold beer, grab your hubby, sit on the porch outside and enjoy the show!" By now I KNOW she thinks that I think she's an idiot, which is not true, but, as you know, I MUST mess around with her head. "By the way Anne, haven't you heard? There are some theorists who believe the Mayan proverb was actually misinterpreted. The date isn't the 21, it's the 12th." She gasps, "Well which is it?"
"They don't know, but the 21st is the popular opinion. So, you should really be ready for the 12 and if nothing happens then it's the 21st." (Dang I can be such a bitch~!)
By now she's mad at me, so I say something that was a sincere attempt to soothe her nerves: "I truly believe it's a bunch of crap Anne. They state that research shows the Mayans had moved on quite suddenly, so who's to say that they just didn't run out of space to continue on with their writings? Or maybe they did have to leave suddenly, thus they couldn't continue the writings? Come on, are you actually going to plan your future around this?"
I knew I was having little effect, but I left it there.
It was in October of 2011 when I saw something at the Calendar Club store in Cornwall Square. A 2012 calendar with an artist's rendition of possible scenarios for the end of the world on December 21 for each month. O~M~F~G! That was Anne's Christmas gift! She'd kill me but hey, the world's going to end anyway, right? --Okay, okay I never sent it. I did buy it, I did put it into one of those mailing envelopes, but I didn't have the heart to send it. I had the nerve, definitely, but there's still a little bit of a softie in me when it comes to my little sis,...BUT ONLY A LITTLE BIT.
You should see this calendar:
January - polar switch - California buried in ice and snow
February - Dubai flooded by tsunami (Dubai is located in the United Arab Emirates, south of the Persian Gulf on the Arabian Peninsula --- yup, I'm not sure where that is either!)
March - Germany suffers full nuclear meltdown
April - New York City levelled completely by major earthquake
May - Las Vegas blown to bits by meteor storms
June - the Netherlands drowned in maelstrom (defined by dictionary.com :
1. a large, powerful, or violent whirlpool.
2. a restless, disordered, or tumultuous state of affairs: the maelstrom of early morning traffic.
3. a famous hazardous whirlpool off the NW coast of Norway.)
July - London volcanic eruption
August - Venice - flooding (now there's a stretch of the imagination)
September - Nibiru - planets collide (should note here, when researching Nibiru, turns out it's not a place, it's "... a supposed impending disastrous encounter between Earth and a large astronomical object, usually predicted to occur during 2012." - wikipedia)
October - Paris torn apart by twisters (stay off the Eiffel Tower that day!)
November - Sydney, Australia - rig adrift (this one I'm not sure about. The artist's painting shows an oceanic oil rig burning and callapsing, nearby the Sydney Opera House is burning and crumbling)
December - Solar flares affecting the entire world, with a very large red exclamation point on the 21st and question marks on every day after that.
Now, has anyone else noticed that NO PLACE IN CANADA WAS MENTIONED???? Okay maybe a solar flare or two, but nothing else. Woohoo! mabe we end up being the only country not affected? (I'm being sarcastic here!) Wow! Wonder what that will do to the immigration laws? We'll probably have to take everyone in. Imagine all the 7/11 stores that'll open! And all the Yanks who believe those stereotypes about Canadians....well, maybe we can move them all to the Yukon. Let them freeze their asses off!
I believe my sister would have truly loved this as a gift, uh huh...............and by now my organs would have found a new home.
Hey people, I recently started becoming more involved with "tweeting" on Twitter. If you're a "tweeter", put my name into the search box (Barbra Tessier, or @SomeOfEvrything - note the spelling) and send a follow request!
Ok that's it for now. Bit of fun, bit of cartharsis, and maybe more next time.
Thought for the day, or until we next meet:
Death is inevitable - it is a part of life.
The end of the world is inevitable - we're using it up.
Everything has a start, so why wouldn't it have an ending?
What you should be concerned about right now is the amount of chocolate you currently have in your home. THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH CHOCOLATE FOLKS!
p.s. take down the Christmas decorations idiots!
|Posted on March 31, 2012 at 9:35 PM||comments (0)|
Out like a Lion.....
Nope I'm not referring to the weather; I'm referring to my personal circumstances. You see, it's now 937pm e.s.t., and just 3 hours ago I arrived home from a trip to the Emergency Room at the Cornwall Hospital on McConnell Avenue. I was terrified. For the past 3-4 days, I had been unable to take a deep breath. No dizziness or lightheadedness, no pain, no headaches, no nausea, nothing, nada, zip, just trouble breathing. Yeah that's all; trouble breathing. No one knows, but I've been trying really hard to cut back on my smoking. I'm not doing too bad right now. One pack lasts about two days, but it's not enough. Seems though, my lungs are actually reacting to the lessening of the smoke. The way my doc explained it to me, was that the muscles lining my lungs are taking in the air but they're not letting it go, inflammation of the lung muscles; a common occurance when someone either quits or cuts back on smoking. It's scary but not really anything that could kill me. The treatment: 1) get out in the cold air! Breath it in in shallow amounts and force the air out of your lungs. Think of it as swallowing a small bit of water then puking up gallons. Hey, it's a metaphor that works for me! (Very cold drinks and food may help too.) 2) When doing my workouts and my deliveries, focus on pushing air OUT of my lungs; do not try to take in "as much as I can" 3) Salbutamol, also known as Ventolin, in the form of an inhaler, to ONLY be used when nothing else works. Sounds good to me. Many thanks to Dr. Alan Davis and the ER staff. With my paranoia and lack of trust of the medical personnel, these folks proved me wrong. Thank God.
A few hours later I've already noticed an improvement. So, why was I so scared? My mom died of COPD, specifically the medications for emphysema she was on for so long totally destroyed her internal organs, wore them out, and she simply could not breath. BUT, I want to note this here, she also spent close to 10 years of her life cleaning other people's homes with ammonia and bleach. Yup, the result is chlorine gas. However, the only time she realized this was a bad combination, was the last time she used it; in our bathroom in our then new home. No ventilation, windows closed due to cool air, and door closed to keep us kids out. Voila! Unconscious in seconds. That was the last time she used those two chemicals together, but the damage had been done. Smoking only spurred it on.
Of course, like a good little independent, and "strong" woman, I alerted my medical proxy right away, to keep her informed, should her services be required in the future. I was met with "I'll have to call you back." That was over 3 hours ago. ANYONE OUT THERE WANT TO BE MY MEDICAL PROXY? I'm starting to rethink my original choice.
Hey it hasn't been a total crappy week. I got the written portion of my M1 done. (Motorcycle level 1). First time too. Studying is still one of my strong suits, it seems. Theory class in on April 18 and driving practicum on the 22nd and the 29th. Will keep you informed.
Got some spring work done. Cleaned out the garage, raked the yards, put the little things away and/or out, depending on what it was, screens up, crap cleared out of the window frames, and so on. Just waiting for the day I can take out my shorts and start working on making my legs look lot less white!
Actually got around to ripping up the cruddy old carpet from the upstairs hallway, and chipping away one tile. Yeah, that's right, one. Got a problem with that? You ever chip away old tile? And I don't mean the kind whose adhesive gives way when it gets old. I mean the kind that the older it gets, the more it wants to hold on. I sit cross legged on the floor, paint scraper in one hand, mallet in the other, and literally chip away at the old tile, piece by piece. Damn it's sticky! Me thinks I'm in for some bloody sore wrists and hands again. (I did the back bedroom and the kitchen in the same way. Let's just say I made sure I had plenty of antibiotic ointment and band-aids handy. And yes, they did come in handy!)
But I will say this, done properly and carefully, the result is DEFINITELY worth it! My bedroom floor is gorgeous, and since it's only floating floor, that means I did it right. A very good job if I say so myself.
It's now 1004 pm, and I've poured myself a cold glass of gold rum mixed with water and ice. Just chill-axing. Breathing is okay. Think I'll call it quits for now.
You know, if I ever find a guy I could fall heavy for, this blog would get a LOT more interesting. If you happen to personally know Hugh Laurie, would you mind putting in a good word for me? Don't care that he's married. Just as long as he's breathing and not showing butt crack!
Thought for now:
We never really know how strong we are until our limits are tested, but even then, do we really know for sure how far our strength will take us? "Limits" are defined by the CURRENT circumstances, mental status, etc. So, wouldn't it depend on the moment? You may think of yourself as strong, but like everyone else you have your limits; your weaknesses. Until you recognize them and acknowledge them, you're just as weak as everyone else. Just normal. And that sucks big time!
|Posted on March 16, 2012 at 10:10 PM||comments (0)|
And on it goes.....
This time, no excuses, just fact. I've been avoiding this blog. The only things I could think of to write about do not fall into the "happy" or "interesting to you" categories, so I've been putting off this entry. I know there's a few people who follow this site out of curiosity mostly. Probably one or two want to read if I make any negative, hurtful or liable comments about anyone or any business. Maybe even someone thinks I'll make them laugh. Not this time, I'm afraid. At least I don't think so.
Last week, on March 8th, Thursday, when I finished my job at 10 pm, I logged onto Facebook to see what was up, if anything. I did not expect to find a message of condolence for a friend of mine, Barb Berthiaume. I've always liked Barb, we just didn't talk too much anymore. She worked days and I sleep days; just made it difficult, you know? Well, Barb had been battling cancer recently, and while things weren't terrific, they weren't all bad. She was on some form of double chemo and there was hope. She went to bed Wednesday night and never woke up. And I found out by reading it on my Facebook wall. Nice.
If any of you ever saw me wearing a large, bulky, blackened, well worn, yellow coat in the cold weather, that's because Barb gave it to me years ago. I loved the colour immediately. I often walked home in the dark from my job at the bingo, and the yellow would help me be seen. It was, and still is, the warmest coat I have ever owned. It is ripped, stained with ink, and I still wear it. Barb used to laugh any time she saw me in it, saying "Isn't it time you got rid of that thing?" So I would say, "Ok, got another coat I could have? You obviously know a good piece of winter clothing when you see it." And we'd both laugh at that.
Joke was on me. Last fall, Barb presented me with another of her coats. She didn't like it. I love it. It's huge on me, but it's warm. With a minor alteration to make sure my butt is kept covered, that coat is in my closet waiting for the day the yellow one retires.
I remember working with Barb at the Cornwall Bingo. I loved working with her. She could come across as the most solid, staunch woman you would ever meet, and in the next second seem as fragile as a child. She could run a bingo as well as anyone, and sell cards as fast as any of us could.
I'll miss you Barb. RIP.
I recently found out my friend Patti is having some health issues. Thankfully not life threatening, but very severe nonetheless. She is in my thoughts often. I'm not saying anymore on this topic because Patti is a very private person, and she trusts me with what she's told me. I will not betray that trust.
My sis, Anne, was down this week with her family. I got to visit with Anne and Taylor, my niece for an hour and a half out of that week. That's pretty damned good for us. Now if I can only get Cody, my nephew, and Kevin, my brother-in-law, over here too. I'm about ready to give up, but not quite yet. I'm one hell of a bitch when I know what I want. I do not like it when someone gives up power over themselves to another. I'll be damned though, if I stand by and watch it while saying nothing. My limit is coming, and it's coming fast.
Wednesday April 18 is the date I take the 4 hour class on practicum and theory for my motorcycle license, and the 2 - 8 hour classes are on Sunday April 22 and 29. Right now I'm studying for the written test. Did you know that according to the test, you have to know how to ride a motorcycle, yet you take the course AFTER the written test. I swear, it's true.
My piano lessons are going quite well, or so my teacher says. At least she hasn't thrown me out of her house....yet, so I must be doing something right!
Seriously though, she estimates my current level of playing at Conservatory 3, just since starting in September, only 6 months of lessons. That's not too shabby folks! If I had started the lessons when I first wanted to, I definitely would be in the performing arts.
I wish to God I could say it doesn't bother me, but it does. And it always will.
House is coming to a close soon; May 21. I've mentioned here before that I'm administrator for the Facebook Page: House MD Quotes (https://www.facebook.com/pages/House-MD-Quotes/320435946548?ref=ts&sk=wall). I was asked what I wanted to see in the finale; how I thought House should end. I scripted out what I thought would work and sent it to my fellow fans. So far, it's been getting a favorable response. If you happen to be a fan and are curious about my own script, send me an email ([email protected]) and I'll send it to you.
St. Patty's day tomorrow. If anyone tells me they're wearing green underwear, I'm walking away.
Both my jobs have been going quite well; or so at least no one's complained to me. (heehee they're probably scared......nah, doubt it's that!)
Have you ever had something good happen to you, whether it be of your own doing or just happenstance, and you question whether you deserve it? Yeah, daily.
FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! GET THE DAMN CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS DOWN ALREADY!
I think I may have the solution to the language crisis the CCH is experiencing in their hiring policies. See how this suits you: You go to the hospital and if ANYONE tries to "serve" you or "care" for you using a language other than yours, you punch them in the face. Think of it. You see a nurse, full of bruises, there's a damned good chance she spoke french to someone who speaks english, so avoid her! See? Problem solved.
While we're on the topic of health care, why the fuck are these people working in hospitals not restricted from wearing colognes or heavily scented products? They're working in a hospital! Hello? Allergies, sensitivities, trouble breathing? I think that ANYONE who works in a hospital, clinic, home care, etc should be forbidden by law to wear ANY kind of fragrance. Only unscented products, from shampoo right down to fabric softener. It only makes sense! Idiots.
Think that's going to be it for now, folks. It's 10:43 pm and I'm tired. More so than anyone knows. Good night.
Personal observation: Just because things are "going your way" does not mean that "everything's all right". But we put on the act to keep society happy. Should get an Emmy.
|Posted on February 29, 2012 at 5:10 PM||comments (0)|
I'm not who you think I am....
Ok, this time I'm not apologizing for such a long gap in entries. I've been dealing with some personal issues, and that's my business. If you think that's too harsh sounding, too bad.
Happy Leap Year Day. Huh? Big deal. I mean, unless your birthday is on February 29, what difference does it make? It's one more day amongst the rest of them, and unless you bought a defective calendar, just go about life as usual.
PUT THE DAMN CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS AWAY ALREADY!
It's Roll Up the Rim time at Timmy's again, and it looks like Tim's has stuck to it's guns. "1 in 6 chance of winning". But what they don't tell you is that the amount of winning cups is distributed to each Tim's based on volume of sales. In other words, the stores that sell the most, receive the highest number of winning cups.
Also, there are some people, and I'm one of them, who believe the winning cups are more numerous in the sizes that don't have the highest sales. Think about it. If there were more winning cups in the Large and XL sizes, they'd be gone in a wink! Try this trick, see if it works for you: If you normally buy an XL, every couple of days, buy two mediums or smalls. (Yeah, I know, practically a waste of money, but your odds of winning something will be better.)
Seems like the French in Cornwall are pissed off. (I'm French; my father and mother were French, although my father was the only one who spoke it fluently. Mom thought it best her children be literate in one language, rather than illiterate in two languages...and she was right.) My last name is Tessier, so keep that in mind as you read on......
Dr. Tombler's comments about hiring policies for the local hospitals were made quite clear, as I've commented on in an earlier post. And he was quite right. He is fluent in both official languages, so he was not being prejudicial; he was being practical. We all know that so don't pretend you're offended. To those of you who believe Dr. Tombler was wrong, I say "Too fucking bad." Cornwall is primarily English, not French. It NEVER has been primarily French. So when the hospital goes BOOHOO now we won't get any funding because people want our hiring practices to change, you're simply looking for a way to excuse the bull shit you've been putting forth for many years. Of course, we the public do know it's the government that sets these rules, but we also know it's the places/organizations that receive the funding, that have the most impact when it comes time to question these rules. Well that time has come! Perhaps the Board of the hospitals had best go crying to the government, and not the people. We're the ones you're here to serve, YES -- SERVE, and you're paid pretty damn well to do so. We put up with your mistakes, despite the fact we put our lives in your hands, and all we ask is that your hiring practices be fair to all in the community in which you exist.
If you're so damned concerned about funding, then how about when you take our money, you ask us what language we prefer to be served in? Then take those numbers at the end of the year, and base the next year's hiring on those numbers. WANT TO BET HOW OFTEN ENGLISH WILL COME OUT IN FIRST PLACE IN CORNWALL?
Common sense folks, common sense.
I'll bet you're wondering about the heading for this post; I'm not who you think I am. I'm fortunate to have heard people describe me as funny, warm hearted, organized, serious, helpful, kind, considerate, deligent, reliable, dependable, yada yada yada.
That's the face I put on for society, and for the most part, I try my best, every day. However, I am not who you think I am. I like being selfish. I like the fact that now, in the last half of my life, I'm putting myself first. If the consequences of my actions includes the persona I've described above, great. I really don't care anymore.
For the most part, I find most conversations with people boring, yet I partake in it as I believe it is one way society will accept you. I say I don't care about being accepted, yet one of my jobs dictates that I am required to occasionally have conversations with people, so in order to do well at my job, I have to bite the bullet. So goes life. We all lie and we're all hypocrites at some point.
I find people interesting, it's just that most of the time, in conversation with others, I have to listen to the most mundane crap. I have my own problems, and sometimes I may be able to help you with yours. If I can I will, but it's not going to be often. Too many times in the past I've helped someone only to have them turn on me. I don't give crap to people, so why should I take it?
Had enough yet? Okay then.....
That snow storm we had last week, that dumped a hell of a lot more than the 6 inches Environment Canada warned us about, sure stirred up a lot of crap on Facebook.
I'm the first one to usually say something like "It's February. It's Canada. Get over it!", but this time I was on the other side, loudly. This winter has not been a whole lot warmer than usual, (although February itself certainly was), but the snowfall was much lower than expected. Not a damn thing wrong with that. And to boot, our little furry groundhog told us to expect spring-like weather to start earlier than usual. (He is now looking down the barrel of a double gauged shotgun as I type....)
So, of course, when Mother Nature takes a look, and sees such conditions, she decides to dump a crap load of, well, crap, on our heads, and that pisses me off!
*Sigh* I was actually wearing only one layer of clothing and running shoes up to that point. I even took both my bicycles into Total Cyclery much earlier than usual for their tune ups, but now it looks like they're going to be sitting there a bit longer.
Anyone out there a regular visitor to the Yahoo! Answers site?
I am. People from all over the world go to this site to ask and answer questions from other people, from all walks of life.
All too often extremely sensitive material is posted, and there are many children that frequent this site. Yes Yahoo does have age restrictions, but if mommy and daddy don't care what their kids are doing online, then why should the kids?
I'm mentioning this site because there are a lot of topics with questions that are very noteworthy. It has proven quite helpful for myself as well. A world of information, opinions, suggestions, at your fingertips, posted by and answered by people just like you. Check it out. You might be able to help someone.
OMG just checked out the local news page, and see this headline, "Cornwall police warning parents to talk with their kids about suspicious vehicles".
Now, I'm wondering, just which parents out there are complete, mind boggling idiots who wouldn't do this?
I want their phone numbers and addresses, because they should not have kids.
Uh oh, drivers of all kinds of vehicles, yes that includes bikes, beware in March! "Cornwall police to target sign violators next month". ('Jaws' theme plays here.)
IT'S ABOUT FREAKING TIME! "New recommendations could get geese out of Cornwall's Lamoureux Park". I believe the geese were here before us. I believe we forced the geese to gather at the waterfront by forcing them out of the areas we are developing. I believe spending over $10,000 on dogs to chase geese is a pathetic attempt to solve a problem that we created. Now, however, someone has finally wised up. Seems a suggestion of using audio recordings of geese in distress will be tried this year to "chase" the geese away. (Brookshell Pontiac has only been using this exact same method for the past 3 years to keep the crows away, and it's been incredibly successful!)
I think this method is far less harmful to the geese. What in hell gives us the right to encroach on their territory, force them into a small area of land, then make them adhere to our laws? (Wait a minute, that sounds familiar.....) Ahhhhhhh humankind. Like I said before, people are interesting; most conversations are boring.
A big congratulations to Diane M. Lahaie, on being appointed to the Ontario Court of Justice. WTG DIANE!
"Truant teen spends weekend in Cornwall Jail". About fucking time! Seems the 15 year old was on parole which includes attending school without truancy. So what can we do about all the kids who are not on parole and still not attending school regularly? Where are you mom/dad?
.....annnnnnnnnnnnndddd another 10-15 cm of snow on it's way. That's about 6 inches, and from what I can see, Cornwall is dead center of the weather front. Dang. Facebook is going to be busier than usual for southern Ontario again.
For my final note, I have a request. I'm looking for mottos you use on a regular basis. Humorous ones preferably. Sayings, expressions, sarcastic comebacks. Also, recipes ~ YOUR recipes, not ones copied from a website or cookbook. I can't tell you why, but any contributions would be much appreciated. You can send them to me via email at [email protected] .
PLEASE PUT "EXPRESSION/RECIPE" in the subject line. This way if it should go to my spam folder I won't delete it without looking at it.
Thought of the day: Whew! I had forgotten how good it felt to vent on here.
For all of you who put up with it, thanks.
For all of you who like it, ummmmmm okay, someday there may be help for you.
For all of you who don't like it, ~what in hell are you doing here then?~.
For anyone else, normal is boring, and overrated.
I'm not who you think I am. Get over it.
|Posted on February 8, 2012 at 8:15 PM||comments (0)|
While working this evening, I decided to take a quick look at Facebook during one of my breaks. It was with a pang of sadness I found the article announcing that my favorite TV Drama, House, would be ending in May of 2012, after 8 seasons.
|Posted on February 5, 2012 at 10:35 AM||comments (0)|
Updates, whether you care or not.....
Morning all. Yup been a while since I last posted, but I know you're used to that. I'm afraid the reason is the same; no new crap to rant about; not much going on. However, I have achieved one thing I've been putting off for some time now....I ACTUALLY DUSTED! YES! You read it here first folks. Barb Tessier actually did some cleaning! (God I HATE housework! Was there ever a more boring chore in this world? No wonder our moms get us used to "helping out" at such a young age! They know that by the time they hit 40, they're not going to want to do it anymore, so they get their kids to do it for them!) Shit. I don't have kids. Anyone want to loan me theirs?
Been trying to make some minor changes in my home. Ever notice how you can have nothing to wear yet your closets and dressers are filled to the brim, even overflowing, with clothing? Where the hell did it all come from? A lot of mine are too big for me now, and hopefully will stay that way. So I went through most of clothing trying to weed out the unwanted/unnecessary crud. HAH! I managed to toss out 5 items, and reorganize everything into 1) wear it a lot 2) wear it sometimes 3) wear it in winter only 4)wear it in summer only 5) wear it whenever I damn well please 6) wear it only when being naked is definitely not an option! (This last category can also be called "I'm dying my hair or painting something and don't want to ruin anything from the other categories".)
My room looks nicer, tidier, cleaner. Now I have room to put all the crap I'll get this year.
Holy crap! We have a doctor right here in Cornwall, who not only has a great reputation AS a doctor, he also has common sense......AND USES IT! As in Saturday's Standard Freeholder, Dr. Dany Tombler expressed his views on how STUPID it is to expect nurses to speak fluent French. WTG Dany! On the second page he continues to explain how nurses who are fluent in Mohawk and English cannot find employment here because they can't speak French. WAIT ONE BLOODY DAMN MINUTE! You mean to tell me, that we have qualified nurses, WITH EXPERIENCE, trying to get hired RIGHT HERE IN CORNWALL, and we're turning them away BECAUSE THEY DON'T SPEAK FRENCH? WHERE'S MY ADVIL; I FEEL A MIGRAINE COMING ON!
For Christ's sake, are we bloody nuts? Considering all the shit nurses have to put up with, I say we should hire whoever applies, (and has a good work record, of course), as long as they are fluent in ENGLISH! GO GET THOSE PEOPLE NOW AND PUT THEM TO WORK! D'UH!
My thoughts and prayers go out to all in the eastern part of Europe. That cold weather they're experiencing isn't letting up. Sure we may experience those temperatures once or twice during our winter, but it never lasts more than one or a few days. In Saturday's paper, it was reported that at least 139 people have already died from the cold. That's a lot folks, especially when you consider the world we live in today and all we have access to. Next time the temp here dips to -10 C, and you start your whining, why don't you think of those over in Eastern Europe....and then shut your bloody yap!
I paid the bucks for my motorcycle course yesterday, and I'm told as soon as my cheques clears, I'll be registered, and someone will contact me. Cool. Moving forward.
Dang they have specific clothing requirements for this thing. C-O-O-L! An actual excuse to shop! Love it!
Gonna have to figure out where to put those clothes. Oh yeah! I cleaned out my room. There we go.....and so it begins again.
I understand there's some folks out there who know me, who do not believe I am going through with my motorcycling hobby. Ok. Fair's fair. Tell you what, you contact me (I'm in the phone book, on Facebook, via this site, by email, letter, find me in person, whatever method you wish.). We'll have a little chat so that I can tell you directly to go fuck yourself. Sound good? Thought so.
I don't live my life for others anymore. That was a mistake I've been making for over 40 years. Now I live for myself. If you don't like it, please, tell someone who actually gives a damn, because I sure don't.
See what I mean? Nothing much to rant about. Maybe the summer will bring something. Then again, maybe I'll be posting via laptop from the hospital too.....
My friend Barb B. is apparently doing well. She's not out of the woods, but the news was definitely much better than expected. Go girl! Oh, by the way Barb, THANKS FOR TELLING ME! HAD TO FIND OUT FROM OTHERS! AGAIN!
There are those of you out there, who for some reason, believe I shouldn't be alone; that I should have another dog. I know your hearts are in the right place, and although I miss Storm terribly, I do not want another dog, and probably never will. Please stop offering. I'm okay, but very quickly getting pissed off. If you wish to consider yourself my "friend", then you better damned well start listening and respecting my wishes, no matter where your heart is!
Groundhog Day 2012; our little rodent friend did not see his shadow, meaning early spring-like weather. Uh huh. He has a 50/50 chance of being right, and based on my experience living here in Canada, well, let's just say don't put those boots away yet folks!
And have the barbeques ready to go. Hmmmmm roasted groundhog.......
WHAT???? Well, it sounds better than roasted beaver. Think about it.
PLEASE someone explain this to me. Why is it that people cannot use salt to make the ice in their driveways, AND ON THE STEPS, less slippery? It doesn't take a lot, and you can mix it with sand to make it last even longer. See, what I can't understand is, that if you don't have the time to TAKE DOWN THOSE DAMNED CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS, then what are you doing with your time? Why not use some of it to go out, buy salt, come home, bend over, rip bag open, scoop up salt, throw salt?
This should have been on my last post: My deepest condolences to the family and friends of Marie Plumadore. She was my Aunt and my Godmother. I'm among the many people who had fond memories of her,....from my childhood. She passed away recently. If you haven't heard yet, donations to the Lung Association of Canada would be appreciated:
Click on the "Donate Now" button and you'll be taken through the process step by step.
A family member, whom I haven't had contact with for some time, recently contacted me. We've "hooked up", or so I'm trying to! JOHN, THAT BLOODY FACEBOOK! I CONFIRMED YOU, BUT YOU'RE NOT SHOWING UP ON MY LIST!
I could spend the whole day telling you about John, but I'm keeping those memories for myself, as I don't have a single, solitary bad one in the bunch. Love you dude. Tell Brian I said "Hi". Miss you both.
And yes I do love to write. Remember, a blog is what you want to say, and we both know, I do love to talk as well. And if some of you out there didn't pick up on that, get a brain biopsy, because there's definitely something wrong!
Thought of the day: When we make changes in our lives, they should be to better our lives; even if that means cutting ties that bond us to others. Family, friends, whomever. If you believe you are better off without them, then so be it. Make new friends; stay in touch with the family you do love. Most of all remember my motto:
YOU CAN ALWAYS CALL YOUR FRIENDS "FAMILY", BUT YOU CAN'T ALWAYS CALL YOUR FAMILY "FRIENDS".
We are born into family; we can't choose them, so why keep them if they're keeping you down?
Family is NOT most important in life; living productively, and happily is.
Have a good day. Until next time.......
|Posted on January 24, 2012 at 10:25 PM||comments (0)|
I love quotes. It always seems someone, somewhere, has said exactly what you're thinking or want to say, in exactly the same tone, with the exact wording that will put your thoughts out there. The problem is finding the right quote for what you want to express!
I'm bringing this up because of a Facebook page. House MD Quotes. This page features quotes from the popular drama series House MD, featuring Hugh Laurie. I recently discovered this page, and, as I am a fan, and a "nitpicker", (I like dissecting and examining things in detail. Sort of like solving puzzles to understand them better. I take whatever it is apart, and examine each piece.) I "liked" it. Right away I had entered several of my fave quotes from the show. And I got noticed!
(As a fan, I love to watch the dvd's of the series, moving from one episode to another, in order, with the Closed Caption option on. That way I can read when I can't quite make out what the actors are saying. I've come across some hilarious, but also poignant quotes that I believe are quite true, and very applicable to life.)
For example, "If I wanted to talk about it, why didn't I bring it up?" (character Thirteen from the episode "It's a Wonderful Lie"), or one of my faves, "Normal is boring!"
Today, when checking out my page on Facebook, I noticed I was now an Administrator of the House MD Quotes page. WOW! I have been given access to manage the page, edit it, and so forth. This may not seem like a big deal to many people, but if you think of the crud that makes it's way around Facebook, the responsibility to NOT screw up becomes very clear.
Besides, I like the honour. Don't really care what you think.
So back to the idea of using quotes. All of us at some time or other, had something we've wanted to say; something that needed saying, but could not find the words. "It's on the tip of my tongue." or "I know what I want to say, I just can't think of how to say it!" Sound familiar? It should. It's happened to you. I guarantee it!
When it does happen, don't you just feel like an idiot? I mean, all those years in school, constantly having your speech, grammar corrected by teachers, parents, etc? And now, as an adult, you can't even think of the words for what you want to say? Makes me want to hide. But that's when humour comes in handy.
Remember those words in the previous paragraph. Chances are you won't be able to think of the words when you want to.
Here's the link if you're a fan of House and are curious about these quotes. Remember, any material that does not apply to the site's content will be deleted. I know. I'm one of three who have that power! Buahahahahaha
Hey if anyone out there knows Rob or Tanya Thompson (three kids), could you let me know where they've moved to or what they're number is? I'm trying to contact them and they moved out without letting me know, which was not a very nice thing to do to me.
Don't you just hate it when people owe you money, but act like they're doing you a favor by NOT paying you back? Peachy!
Does anyone have a solution to cellulite out there?
Why, oh why , are there so many morons in the world? I wish I could give details as to why I’m asking this question, but I’m afraid it’s directly related to my Marketing Research Agent job, and thus would breech confidentiality. But trust me. There are many morons out there!
Made a slow cooker full of my homemade soup today and it is delish! It sure comes in handy when it’s cold outside and I’m pretty sure I won’t feel like cooking for most of the week. Just make the dish, stick it in the fridge and take out what I want, when I want.
You may have noticed I haven’t been posting any comments related to current news lately. That’s because, well, I find it’s been boring lately. Which is actually a good thing if you think about it. It means there’s been no horrendous crimes, no scandals, etc. Makes for thin papers too, which makes them lighter and easier to deliver!
Holy cow was No Frills busy this past weekend! Kudos to Justin again! This guy knows how to treat his customers! Pass the oreos please.
Shit, I’m turning 46 on October 1, 2012 and I’m bloody proud! I have all my own teeth, (ok, sort of, fillings can’t be considered “real”), I can still do a hard work out, and keep my weight down, I’m in full control of my own mental faculties……HEY QUIET I’M TRYING TO WORK HERE! Damn elves!........I can still appreciate the value of a mug of hot chocolate on a freezing cold day, or the feel of a man’s arms wrapped around me, (and other parts I might add ).
Thought of the day: A few quotes from House MD that I find, may give you a bit of insight into my true personality, no matter what you think of me, I will always be honest with anyone about myself, unless I think it’s none of your damn business:
"This is the only me you get."
"People interest me. Conversations don't."
"That was awesome. I gotta start pretending to care."
"We are who people think we are."
“People like talking about people. Makes us feel superior. Makes us feel in control. And sometimes, for some people, knowing some things makes them care.”
“I only get mad when you waste my time. Couldn't care less about yours.”
"Love to hear more of your theory, but I don't give a crap."
|Posted on January 22, 2012 at 7:45 PM||comments (0)|
I had a pretty darned insightful entry here, then uploaded the photos I had spent one part of my entry talking about. Unfortunately I didn't realize that by adding the photos, I had erased my entry. I'm not going through it again, as I'm taking it to mean it should not be posted.
So please enjoy looking through the black and white photos I've uploaded. I was working at Ron's Photos in 1989, and these pics were my assignments while I took a photography class. The captions are explanations for each pic.
|Posted on January 15, 2012 at 5:10 PM||comments (0)|
Two weeks into the new year and still nothing fantastic, exciting, new, thrilling or even mediocre is happening. Blech! So this post, long in coming, I know, is basically just to let you know I'm still here. I'm still posting; just waiting......
Ok first and foremost, because everyone else is bitching, I may as well join in: GOD DAMN IT'S COLD!
My fave show, House, lost out at the People's Choice Awards to Supernatural. What the hell is that? Never heard of it.
Some guy named David Fillion beat out Hugh Laurie for best actor. The guy is new. His show is new, and now I'm supposed to believe that a new actor has better acting abilities than a seasoned veteran? These types of results are the by product of too many teenagers on computers voting multiple times.
People's Choice Awards are nominated online, and voted for online. I thought I'd check it out when the voting was going on. Turns out it is possible to vote as many times as you want for one person. Oh yeah, these awards are "rigged". That the term to use; when voting is manipulated.
The Golden Globes snubbed House altogether. The show, entire cast, background people. Idiots.
Damn it's cold. Oh wait. Said that already. See? I forget things when I'm bored.
Friday was the 13th. I never even noticed.
Still here? Still awake? Not me.
If we teach our children that failure is a part of life, that failures should be learned from and we should never give up, then why in hell do so many people in this world focus on the failures of others?
You're only considered "good" until you screw something up. God help you if someone ever tells you you're perfect at something, because then they'll expect you to be perfect all the time, and that is just not possible.
Well that's it folks. I've literally been sitting here for the past hour searching the web for news stories, watching facebook for any interesting updates, even going through my own files for something to post here, and I came up with only one thing: I really don't care about finding something to post right now.
I care about my piano lessons.
I care about what's on tv tonight.
I care about work tomorrow.