Picture from the cell phone

We went to pick up a baby goat this weekend ( well of course we did, are you even remotely surprised?), and the folks have Great Pyrenese dogs. They look like a pack of clouds running through the yard. Here is Jake with one at his feet and another getting a bit of attention.

See, this is much nicer than my whiney post from yesterday.

And we made arrangements last night to spend the nasty lady's money on a Pygmy doe wiht beautiful colors who is already pregnant. Also the folks with the baby goat are getting some turkeys - and we agreed to take a couple when they come in. What a spring it is going to be!

Dear Little Missy - you are a sour soul.

(needed to rant a sec here and get this off my chest - nothing ticks me off more than to do a good deed and have it rewarded by a bad attitude)
We rescued your goats for you - not for you or your thank you note or your hundred dollars, but because it is the right thing to do. We didn't have to put an ad in the paper, we could have just kept them - and believe me it was pretty tempting because they look just like goats we lost to a vet's mistake and they certainly pulled at our heartstrings.

You asked to come at 1, then called 15 minutes before you were expected to say you would be late. You agreed to come 3:30 so we could do our errand. Then had the audacity to come to my house at 2:45 and walk to the back fence as though you would just get your goats from my yard and leave. Luckily, my daughter asked you to wait until we got home, but you put her in a bad postion.

Your first mistake was passing judgement - what you didn't know is that I am doing the best I can and that the stacks of boxes in my carport are from trying to move during the weekends after working all week. My kitchen wasn't done because I hurt my back on Saturday and I couldn't stand long enough to do the dishes.

Things are not neat and tidy - like I would like them to be because I have made the unfortunate mistake of having my family believe I can do it all - so they see no urgency in trying to help me with the workload. When I am sick or have other things to do, housework just doesn't get done. It sucks, but it is the reality of my otherwise happy life.

I have taken it upon myself to know a lot about goats - that is why I gave you a list of medications and treatments I used so that you would know what was done. Basic nursing skill - tell the next person caring for your patient what you did. You looked down your nose at me when I said I was a nurse too - as though that couldn't be possible. Just because I don't flaunt 12 years of private school and two bachelors degrees by looking down at other people, doesn't mean I am stupid. Of the five of us, who you treated like backwoods idiots, four of us test at genius IQs - how dare you pass judgement because we are socially conscious and choose to live within our means instead of flaunting our wealth like spoiled children. Your bad attitude and bad manners made me want to send you away - and made me wonder what kind of mama you are to those sweet baby goats. Worse yet, you hurt my feelings after we did something nice for you.

I will take your reward money and buy myself a baby goat from a nice man who is polite to us and doesn't give a shit about money or social postition - he just wants them to go to a good home. And you know what, you may get to behave all high and mighty and think you are better than me, but I have a good home and good kids and a good husband and a life that makes me happy. I hope I never run across your soured soul again.

new image

I have decided to just embrace it. I am now a playmobile toy.

When you are married to a Lovecraft fan...

I watched The Call of Cthulu last night - a modern film done in silent film format. Unbelievably, I enjoyed it. I had to concentrate so hard on the picture, that I had time to let the awfully long day slip away. It felt like a lot of the backstory was missing - but piqued my interest enough that I might be tempted to read the original story by H.P. Lovecraft.

Not sure who this is? http://callofcthulhu.blogspot.com/ This guy has a whole blog about it.

To those whom much has been given

It was thirty years ago, nearly to the day. My Grandpa Wolf passed away at the end of December and I remember that my mom had driven up to Logansport to help write thank you notes. That first weekend in January, my dad was flying back with some friends from the Carolinas, and would stop to pick up another friend on the way. He had flown his own plane since we lived in Bismark - which by the way has more folks with a pilot's license than the average city.

It was snowy, and I was home alone with my brother. The King and I was on TV, the older version with Yule Brennar and I was trying to watch it. Rosie and her husband were flying back with my dad, and their daughter called me. The first time she called, I remember thinking it wasn't unusual for them to be a bit behind schedule, especially because of the slushy snow coming down.

Then she called a second time, sounding more frantic about the lateness of the hour. I kept trying to focus on the movie, but there was a nagging sense that something was wrong.

The sleet was thick as the plane tried to approach Metropolitan airport in Indy. They were having trouble seeing, and trouble transmitting to the air tower. The wings were icing over. When they had called for weather conditions, there had been no mention of icing, or they would have diverted elsewhere. Now they opened the side windows, reaching his hand around to the windshield, my dad scraped the ice away trying to get visual confirmation to match his gauges. They made the first attempt at a landing, couldn't safely get to the runway. So pulling up, they made another pass. A wide circle around the airport, and during the descent, they hit wires, sending them bouncing back up in the air. The plane had a mind of it's own now, and came back down hard, skidding through the snow through a bay window and into the living room of unsuspecting folks who were watching the football game on the other side of the wall.

When my mom came home, I remember talking to her about what time dad was supposed to be home. She called Rosie's daughter and they talked briefly about times and places. We knew that they had left the Carolinas, and that they were headed home. Mom called the airport.

Dad had blood running down his face from a gash in his scalp. He tried to move Rosie's husband from the front seat, only to find that he was already dead. Then went to the task of getting people out of the back seat. Ken and Rosie were hurt - Ken was having trouble feeling his legs. Dad and the people from the house got them out of the plane and laid them safely down to await the ambulance.

I don't know that I ever remember dressing so quickly - or getting into the car so quickly. There had been a crash and we knew that one person was dead, but not who. Mom was a true loner at that moment, and said, she didn't want to scare us, that we should pray for the best, but that usually it was the pilot who died in airplane crashes because of the steering wheel. The snow was deep and we drove quickly over to St. Vincent Hospital on the north side of town - which even now is about a 30 minute ride.

When we walked in, it was pandemonium. They were not sure who was dead, and then we passed my dad on a gurney. His face looked like someone had left chocolate cake all over it - and he was saying something about his left leg. I'll never forget how white and straight his teeth looked when he saw us and smiled. Later we would learn that he shattered the ankle of his left leg and that he had ruptured his aorta - normally something that is lethal, but the adrenaline and cold weather had saved him.

We found Rosie, who had fractures in her spine, broken arm and a broken leg as well as Ken who had a fractured spine. ( I may have gotten these details a bit skewed, as it was 30 years ago and I was 9). I remember that Ken was told he would never walk - but a year later he was the proud father of a baby boy and he walked into the delivery room with only a cane.

The next months are a whilrwind in my memory, sneaking us into the ICU, lying about my age so I could see my dad. The surgeries where they rebroke and reset his leg, and then in March, when I made my Confirmation, he was home, with a hospital bed in the living room. Dad was thin then, and pale, but he is a fighter. Always has been.

I looked at those pictures last night - remembering the lessons learned by observation. How you can love someone and have to care for their every need, how you can be strong even when you are in pain.

Today, my dad restarts chemo - to battle this opponent who has come for a rematch. The Lord tells us that to those whom much has been given, much will be expected. We have been given thirty years worth of second chances and memories and laughter. People just don't live through plane crashes like that, and as a family, we all know that. I think we are expected to be thankful, be happy and be at peace with however this next round of chemo turns out, and rather than being angry that we may not get more time, focus on how wonderful it is that we got and extra thirty years so far.

Things that make you say HMMMM

We watched a film last night - not my usual fare, but it was a medical mystery - and I got taken in . The film was about a doctor, who discovers a plot in hospital to obtain healthy subjects among street-people. The people are then kidnapped and used as test subjects in ground breaking research to regenerate nerves. This kind of research is very real, but still in infancy because it starts as animal testing long before it moves to human trials. And human trials are likely to be far off because of the potential for death and paralysis in such a study.

As I watched the film, more and more people who were involved in the plot had relatives who were in wheelchairs and paralyzed - each scene was more touching than the one before, and secular humanism was rampant - there are no absolute right and wrong things - what is right is what works for me. But that is another post.

Medicine is as much art as science, we use our guts and our hearts if we are at all good at our medical practice. Sometimes it is hard to see through the chance to save someone to the person or animals used in the research to give us the understanding. The Nazi research on hypothermia, which has helped change the way we treat patients - but has some serious ethical issues, comes to mind.

While the scenario is tragic, it begs the question of letting people die in vain, and in this film, that question was answered well, when the research was turned over to someone who would behave ethically and try to make it work. It was the right thing, trying to help people who are hurting, done the wrong way, by taking people by force to have surgical procedures done without their consent. But one character made a point that is sticking with me today. What if you knew that by possibly killing one person, you could cure cancer and save thousands of lives? How far would you go to help someone you love?

just dial 911

The hospital I work at is over capacity - seems everyone and their mother contracted pneumonia or bronchitis or some other ugly bug and we are starting to divert patients to another hospital. The push is really on to get people nearly healthy and out the door - so nurses are running like crazy trying to get ten things done at once.

In the midst of this, I had two cool patients today:

The first is a lady with cancer in her abdomen - she has been fighting it for a long time, and after two months in the hospital, she gets to go home today. When I said it was a pleasure to meet her, I meant it. She was pretty fantastic with her bright pink Aeropostle beanie covering her wisps of hair.

Then my other lady, who was on the intercom when I walked in, talking to the ward secretary ordering fried fish, potatoes and some snuff.

An I love you message

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Thanks to Old Horsetail Snake, a gentleman who I lurk or I mean read on occasion, for this gem.

Stupid non- luer lock syringes...grumble grumble

Three of our goats have been fighting pneumonia - seems as a breed they do well with cold - but this weird weather - 60 then 25 then dry then raining for days - just has their bodies in a tizzy. So about two weeks ago we did 5 days of antibiotic shots - which didn't kill whatever was making them sick. So we got new antibiotics - they are thick as molasses and the needle is the size of MONTANA. So I give the first round of shots with little drama three days ago. The goats are looking markedly better, so we decided to do round two. Last night, however - the slippery thick molasses antibiotics won - in both big goats I started giving the shot and the stupid syringe slid right off - spraying about 2cc of antibiotic goo into my nose and eyes. Wow, that was nice. Have you ever started to take an antibiotic and got it stuck in your mouth just a second too long - where you get a chance to taste it? Not a good taste. I read the package insert from the antibiotics to see what to do - no instructions - and best yet - there is a big warning about how this medication can cause tissue necrosis at the injection site. Great.

Today - everything smells and tastes funny - and my eyes feel like sandpaper - even though I did come inside and wash off right away.

Why in the world would the vet send us with syringes that do not have a luer lock( pictured below for your viewing pleasure) - like a screw cap for the needle - so that the freaking needle wouldn't come off in MIDSHOT!!! Okay - sorry for the rant, but the taste of antibiotics in my throat is making me a wee bit cranky.

I'm off to find some syringes - because I have to redo those two goat shots tonight. Farming is fun farming is fun - just keep chanting the mantra.

Glad to be at work so I can rest

This past week has just been a flurry of activity.

We left at 4am Christmas morning to go see my folks for Christmas. Just north of Edinburgh, we hit snow - not a lot, but just enough that the fat wet flakes were hitting our windshield. It felt just like Christmas.

Our first destination was my Uncle Paul's house, where my aunt had prepared dinner and was gracious enough to feed all of us even though we only gave her a couple day's notice. My cousin, Pat, was there with his new fiance. Proving my point agian that you just never know. Pat is a rocket scientist - seriously, for Dish Network, I think. Anyway, he'll be forty this year and just found the love of his life. You just never know.

My folks met us at Uncle Pauls house, with my Uncle Jim in tow. Oh the joy of a large family. It was SO MUCH FUN to get to see everyone and hear all the noise and laughter. What a blast.

We had agreed to pick up Jake from his dad on the other side of town. Unfortunatly, whether on purpose ( which I think was probably the case) or accidentally, his dad left us waiting in a hotel parking lot, in the snow, after dark Christmas day for about an hour and a half. It astounds me that a year and a half after our move, his wife is still hateful to me - and they are still mad. It probably shouldn't bother me, but the ongoing ill will is just not good.

My folks were doing as well as can be expected, both are tired and all the trips to the doctor are trying on the patience.

When we got home, we started the big project - getting Justin's house ready to sell. We spent Thursday, Friday and Saturday painting, taping, replacing light fixtures and ceiling fans to get the house ready - and it looks much better.

Unfortunately, New Years Eve and New Year's day were spend battling some kind of stomach bug that the boys had days before - it wasn't pretty and there sure wasn't any champagne toast.

Monday I tried to catch up on eight days of housecleaning - it wasn't pretty - and there is still Chrismas Eve wrapping paper in the basement. We took a diversion at 3 to watch King Kong - it was fantastic. The ending is SO MUCH BETTER than the original version, and the CGI was amazing. It was a moving and touching story with a lot of character development that was missed in previous versions. Thoroughly enjoyed it - despite some gory scary bugs.

So today my vacation is over - and my stomach is better - so tonight we will feast on traditional New Year's Corned beef and cabbage and maybe have our champagne toast.

May you have a blessed and happy 2006