:::cue Mr. Cooper,please:::

:::all together now:::

School's out for the summer...

2:30 pm today, or thereabouts.

Daddy can't go - The Wrench has to stay here and go to work because he is he has no vacation remaining for the rest of the year, but in the morning, Little Miss Twinkleness and I are departing on Another Grand Adventure.

We shall be loading up the minivan, and heading for Florida, land of oranges, theme parks, and of course, Senior Citizens.

We are going to go and spend some long-overdue time with Grandma and Grandpa. Specifically, my mom and That Guy She Married After Daddy Died.

I have to go finish packing. The laptop is coming along for the ride, so you know what that means.

Y'all play nice till I get back here...

See you in four weeks...

Where were we? Oh, yes. The cast saw had made it's appearance, and Twinks was getting ready to work herself into a fine little snit from the looks of things.

New Guy is no fool; thousands of kids on his table have at least taught him to pay attention to body language, and he notices that Twinks is not the happy, relaxed kid she was just moments ago. "What's wrong?" he asked, "It's not THIS is it?" holding the saw in one hand, spinning the motor up, and racing the cutting blade along his palm. Twinks shrieks, and pulls her fiberglass-covered legs up onto the table, trying to shrink back into the wall.

The Wrench, ever a mechanic, is admiring the saw, it's a saucy little cordless unit by Bosch; New Guy passes it over to him, and shows him several features while I peel Twinks from the wall. New Guy turns back to The Twinkie, and frowns. "Why are you so scared of this?" he asks her, shutting off the saw. She points to me, and I take my cue to explain.

Before we started going to The Hospital, we went to a local "Family Clinic" in The Greater Metro. The "Family Clinic" was a well-known, locally respected medical center, with all of the specialists you could ever want in one handy-dandy building. They had everything (literally) any hospital had, except inpatient beds. This was where the first orthopedic doctor that we saw had his offices. We met him before Baby Twinks was even two weeks old. That day, he put her first casts on. Then for the next six months, at least twice a week, we went back to the "Family Clinic" for those casts to be changed. Overall, Baby Twinks did great with the cast changes; I suppose because she was a newborn when they started, she just accepted them, and the noise attendant with the saw... until one very memorable day. Baby Twinks had somehow pulled her little tiny foot up inside the cast; she had almost succeeded in kicking the cast off, but had gotten stuck. We raced her down to the clinic to get the cast cut off before she lost circulation in her foot; however by the time we got there the regular techs had gone home, and "After Hours" had commenced.

The After Hours people had never had to cut a cast off of a baby. They didn't know that the casts weren't as thick as a cast that you would put on to, say, an active seven or eight year old child. So, the woman cutting the cast off, just kept cutting. Twinks was screaming, thrashing, obviously in distress even though she was only seven months old. I was screaming and screaming at her to stop - gesturing wildly, but the woman just kept cutting. Down both sides of the cast. It was terrible; the stuff of every parent's nightmares.

When the cast was finally popped off, the damage was terribly, horribly evident. You see, the cast saw doesn't actually cut. Not like a pair of scissors - it actually vibrates at a high rate of speed. Friction creates heat. Heat burns skin. Especially tender baby skin.

Baby Twinks had third-degree burns - one long,thin stripe down each side of her chubby little baby leg - from the cast saw.

To this day, the sound of any saw, or any vacuum (cast saws are often attached to a shop vac) still haunts Twinks. She can't stand it.

She still has the faintest scars down both sides of her leg. We call them "racing stripes".

At The Hospital, the techs - like Big J and Craig - use what our family calls "zip strips"; they are a rubber channel that the tech puts under the stockinette before they apply the fiberglass. When the fiberglass hardens, they can cut the cast off right up that channel that the zip strip creates, and never run the risk of touching skin. Big J adores Twinks, and he even goes a step further, cutting off her casts by hand with a pair of those special scissors like the EMT's carry, (the ones that can cut through almost anything) so that she doesn't even have to hear or see the saw, and feel it vibrate.

But New Guy isn't Big J. He didn't know about the saw, didn't know about the mandatory zip strips. And, to be honest, between NOT having to travel to Hospital City, and the good news about weaning off the braces, I was so relaxed and happy that I wasn't paying good attention. Ordinarily I probably would have caught the fact that he didn't put the zip strips in before the fiberglass was on, but not today. Twinks, we learned later, DID notice, but was afraid to pipe up and say anything. Her mistake.

Now we had to convince The Twinkie that New Guy was NOT going to hurt her with the saw. Even though the saw was not hooked up to the vacuum (meaning less noise) it didn't help; she was terrified.

It took a lot of coaxing from everyone - but he did get the casts off with the saw. Twinks knew he was not going to allow the saw to hurt her; she just had to get over the fear. Once he started, New Guy had them off in no time.

==================

Then it is time for us to go across the hall to retrieve the current braces that have been overhauled by Craig. Craig is from The Hospital, and he knows us well. Twinks is glad to get away from the crazy man with the saw, and safely into a room with someone she recognizes. Craig does his best to make these existing braces work a little longer until the new ones are ready; he warms the plastic with a heat gun that is clamped to a stand, and working swiftly, he bumps out a spot here, smoothes in a place there. Twinks stands, and walks in the braces; she points to another spot that isn't quite right. Craig heats the plastic again, and this time turns to a huge machine that looks like an oversized Dremel. He smoothes the instep of the brace carefully, then plunges it into a bucket of ice water to set the plastic. Twinks walks again, this time coming back with a double thumbs up.

We gather up paperwork, and wave goodbye to Craig, the New Guy and Cathy the NP, and make our way out to the improvised check out desk. Along the way, we greet other friends we know, now waiting for their turn at the Outreach Clinic. Some of these families we have known for twelve years now; our children are growing up together.

I stop at the desk while The Wrench and Twinks chat with some of our Shriner friends. The Office Manager from The Hospital is there; we chat as she goes through the paperwork by hand. At Hospital City, it's all computerized, but they can't use the network from here. She flashes a big smile, and hands me a return appointment card to pick up the new braces.

The card is for next month - about four weeks from now.

It's also for another Outreach Clinic. Right here in The Greater Metro.

"See you in four weeks!" she chirps.

What a day.

Locked up and locked out in The Greater Metro

Now remember Gentle Reader, when last we met, things were steaming along rather nicely. Just like the coffee that we had been enjoying while waiting for The Hospital Team to set up shop here in The Greater Metro.

Outreach Clinic typically travels with all kinds of their own equipment; No small feat, considering that they had flown in from Hospital City via a commercial flight. They rely upon the local site only for exam rooms and x-ray equipment. Everything else, they bring with them. Everything.

Except the keys for the wheeled toolboxes that were all safely padlocked.

And, for the first patient of the day, they needed to open several of those cases.

Bolt cutters, anyone?

==================

The local hospital outpatient clinic where we were sitting is on the edge of The Greater Metro Downtown. Several years ago, the local economic development authority had lured one of the big box hardware stores to the eastern fringes of the Downtown area. The Wrench was all revved up to go buy a pair of bolt cutters just to get things going. After all, it was Daddy's Little Princess who was going to have to wait, and that just wouldn't do.

Just as The Wrench was about to take off to buy the bolt cutters, a security guard showed up with a pair, and after about a seven or eight loud POPS, the cases were open, and Outreach was officially in business.

==================

While we waited for the bolt cutters to arrive, Twinks had been weighed and measured, just as if we were at The Hospital itself. Next, we saw the Nurse Practitioner, who came with the Outreach Team. We discussed Twinks fibromyalgia, and the "treatment plan" that had been formulated by our crack team of local doctors. We talked about arthritis, about pain management, about PT, about the weather and the price of tea, and then... we talked about weaning off of the braces.

As in, eventually not having the braces. No braces. At all.

No braces. (sorry, I just like writing that. I could fill pages and pages with just those two words...)

The Wrench and I just looked at each other. Cathy, the NP, reached out and touched my arm lightly, and asked if I was OK with that?

Silly woman.

OK doesn't begin to cover how I felt about that - try astounded. Amazed. Delighted. Thrilled.

==================

The boxes are popped open, and we learn which one of the staff members was responsible for bringing the keys.

We all know he is going to be teased mercilessly about it; he takes it with a big grin and a shrug. He knows right where those keys are too - on the corner of his desk, 400 miles away in Hospital City. The Wrench offers to drive him over to the big box hardware store to buy new padlocks for the cases. Before they can get out the door one of the Shriners arrives with enough shiny new MasterLocks to get the boxes safely home again.

==================

Now we go to the improvised O & P Department. They are spread across three exam rooms, with one room for fittings, one for casting, and one for shop work.

First we meet someone new - a guy we have never seen at Hospital City. We learn later that he is a hired gun, along for the ride because The Hospital is short-handed. He knows the entire staff well; he used to work at The Hospital before he opened his own O&P clinic, and he often travels on Outreach missions, so that they can leave a tech at The Hospital to take care of the patients there. The Hospital has to continue to function, even while the Outreach Clinic goes on here.

New Guy exams Twinks current AFO's, and takes them across the hall to Craig for adjustment, and new Velcro. They will try to make them work long enough to get this (hopefully) last pair of AFO's made. He whistles, he sings silly made-up opera songs, he does character voices, all while deftly covering Twinks legs with the fast-setting fiberglass that will be used back at The Hospital to make the molds of her legs. Then, it is time to remove the fiberglass molds.

Suddenly, Twinks stiffens. My Mommy-Radar lights up with one word:

TROUBLE!

New Guy has a cast saw in his hands.

Uh Oh.

At The Hospital, the techs in O&P know Twinks - and they know about her reaction to the cast saw. New Guy is about to get a lesson in fear and loathing, Twinkie-Style.

Hospital City? We have a problem...

Hospital City invades The Greater Metro!

Yes, you read that right.

Hospital City (well, the staff, and some of their stuff) came here.

To The Greater Metro.

A mere twenty-three miles from our front door.

And it was sweet.

===========================

I had heard about these Hospital Road Shows. Parents of other patients would tell me stories - wonderful, almost-too-good-to-be-true stories about doctors, nurses, and yes, even O&P techs who would come to The Greater Metro, and set up shop for a day in a local hospital or clinic.

But we had never "qualified" for one of these Road Shows (more accurately called "Outreach Clinics") before. The timing was never right, and so we would miss out.

This time, everything fell together in one of those wonderful series of circumstances that I figure we will never see again.

======================

Once Twinks was feeling better after the FM diagnosis, one of the things we noticed right away was that she was having another huge growth spurt. All I have done lately is replace clothes - pants that are suddenly too short, blouses that don't fit, even socks and underwear need to be replaced. All at once, she is growing. A good sign, obviously; it means she is healthy and stronger.

Those of you who have been riding along for a while on our little Internet Blog O' Fun already know what this means: Twinks will be needing new braces. Because, suddenly her toes are hanging off the ends of the braces. And, if you have been playing along with the home version of our game, then you know that also means that she will need new shoes as well.

Ordinarily, this means not one, but TWO trips to Hospital City. The first trip is to have the molds made that the wizards in Orthotics & Prostethics will use to custom-make the braces for Twinks. The second visit is when she tries on the raw braces, then as we wait, they "finish" them, making the final adjustments and tweaks that make walking around in these hard plastic shells actually... doable.

The whole process is fascinating, and at The Hospital there are windows into the O & P workrooms, where you can watch Big J, and Craig, and the others actually making the braces. There are rows of plaster legs, arms and torsos arranged on one wall; all carefully marked with the name of the "owner". There are all kinds of machines - some of them huge and lethal looking, others like you might find in your own garage. There are big vacuum-forming frames, for pulling the plastic tight around the molds, and making it fit just right. There are miles and miles of Velcro, in every color imaginable. There are the "transfers" that mold wild colors and patterns right in to the plastic of the braces, so that you don't have to live with boring beige "skintone" or "medical white". There are buckles and hinges and straps. Oh my!

And when it is all done, there will be a pair of braces.

Typically, this process takes anywhere from two to four weeks - depending on how heavy the workload is for O & P just then. So, one new pair of braces always equals two trips to Hospital City. Once to be molded, and the second time for the braces to be fitted, and then taken home.

Not this time.

========================

This time, when I called Hospital City, I was all ready for Miss V to work us in to the schedule. This means missing at least two days of school; I knew that with her recent triumphant return to school that Twinks would not be happy at the thought of missing even a minute.

Miss V and I chatted for a few minutes; she was thrilled to hear about the diagnosis, and to know that Twinks was going to be OK.

I'll stop here to admit a tiny secret to you: I openly bribe the staff in O&P on a regular basis. With homebaked goodies. Miss V is particularly fond of my brownies. Craig wants the oatmeal cookies. Big J will eat pretty much anything. Every trip, every time, for a long time now... I take along a pan or a box or a bag of something that came out of the oven the night before.

When we started talking about new braces, she suddenly put me on hold - for a long time. I got a little worried, it took so long. It was worth the wait when she came back on the line. She apologized profusely, and then said the words that were like music to my ears: "I got you the last spot at Outreach next week".

:::insert HappyHappy JoyJoy Dance here:::

But the best part was that "the last spot" was actually the first appointment of the day. We had to be there at 7:30 am. Miss V actually *apologized* for the appointment being so early in the morning.

Remember, Gentle Reader, that when we travel to Hospital City, it takes us all day the day before the appointment (as in, an eight-hour drive) just to get to Hospital City. Then, we spend the night in a local hotel, get up at 5:00 am to be at The Hospital at 7:00 am when they open The Clinic, and after we are done there, we have to drive home again (another eight hours).

7:30 am? Less than 30 miles from the house? Talk about a no-brainer.

========================

I made 48 little individual brown-sugar cinnamon crumbcakes for the staff.

========================

Even though we did wind up getting up fairly early on Outreach day, it was still wonderful for us to wake up in our own beds, and know that about 30 minutes after we left our driveway, we would be there. And, because The Wrench works second shift, he was able to be there with us. That alone made Outreach a special treat for The Twinkster, to have Daddy there.

Rush hour traffic was still fairly light, and The Wrench was able to pilot us there several minutes early. We found where we were supposed to wait, and soon enough, some of our local Shriners showed up to help with the Clinic. Twinks flew down the hallway to greet her favorites, and gave each one a big hug. We sat chatting and catching up over coffee while we waited for the Outreach Clinic to start.

Soon enough, the team from Hospital City was there, dragging in huge wheeled tool cases that were padlocked. They started to set up, and the crumbcakes were well-received by the entire staff, just as I had hoped.

Twinks was the first kid called back.

That's when things came to a screeching halt...

Editing reality

Sorry, but I screwed up.

I *thought* that I had posted this before we all got sick. Apparently, however, I didn't actually get it published. So, it was still sitting there, as a draft, waiting for me tonight.

I have put it (chronologically speaking) in its place.

Thanks for not laughing at me... (too much) ;)

WWW: wobbly, weak, and wiped-out

Here we are, nearly two weeks later, and finally everyone seems to be...

...better.

Whatever this viral crap was, it hit us hard. All three of us, at once, were down. Each of us seemed to have the same virus, but it behaved differently in each host.

The Twinkie started off first - sore throat, fever, and some other icky symptoms that I won't subject you to. Her version of our Viral Visitor ultimately resulted in an ear infection and a sinus infection. She is on massive doses of antibiotics now, and finally improving. She missed a total of six days of school (right before semester tests, no less)

The Wrench was next; within 12 hours of Twinks, he was coughing, running a fever, throat so sore he couldn't eat or drink. Because he quit smoking nearly 18 months ago, we had hoped that this time he might escape relatively unscathed, however, we were wrong. Those nasty little viru went straight to his lungs, where they apparently found conditions so hospitable that they are still trying to hang on, even today. If his cough doesn't improve by Friday, The Wrench is looking at x-rays to make sure he doesn't have yet another case of walking pneumonia. He missed a total of six days of work.

I was last. I went down fighting, but it finally got me. I guess there is only so long your body can hold out before it just gives in, and gives over to The Bugs. Mine went straight to my sinuses, whereupon they created a sinus infection so spectacular that my doctor was prompted to give me a double dose of antibiotics in order to get me back on my feet.

I had to keep going, though. The Wrench was doubled over, coughing so hard he couldn't drive most of the time. Twinks is too young to drive. That left me. I had to drive everyone to the doctors offices (not once but THREE times we all went...) drive to the pharmacy to get the medicine, drive to the grocery, and to the school to pick up Twinks homework. I did laundry, got the trash to the curb, made meals, and took care of the critters.

I kept going, and going, and going...

And then I finally had to stop. I swore up and down that I would NOT be sick on Mothers Day. I just wouldn't. Because *last year* I was sick on Mothers Day, and I didn't want it to happen again.

But it finally happened last Friday evening. I had gone to the store, and stocked up on everything I thought we would need, because I knew this was coming. I had tried to get everything done that I knew needed to be done, so that Twinks and TW could function without me. Because I was going to have to do it... I was going to go to bed, and sleep.

And, sleep I did. All day Saturday, almost all day Sunday. TW and Twinks tried so hard to give me a great day; they brought me whatever I wanted or needed, and they gave me cards and gifties, and it would have been perfect, if I weren't too sick to enjoy it. I slept some more on Monday, and I think the worst of it is finally over.

And now we are all, almost completely better. Whatever this was, I hope to never see it again. Wherever it came from, I hope it goes back to, and stays there. We are better, still not up to full speed, but better.

Just in time for school to get out next week.

Yuck

Everyone here is sick.

I think it's either an early summer cold, or a leftover Christmas Virus.

Either way, there is much sniffling, sneezing, and a whole lotta whining going on.

SOME OF US, while ill, are still up and functioning. Others are languishing about, moaning and groaning about how sick they are, and how much their throat hurts, and could you please bring me another cup of ice cream?

There are three people in this household, and only ONE of them is up and blogging. You do the math.

I have to go. Sir Pitiful and The Grand-High Pathetic Princess need something.

They are *so* going to owe me when this is over...

Day trips...

DISCLAIMER I posted this before we got sick. I did NOT however, remember to PUBLISH it. No, I'm not blonde. Yes, I totally spaced on this one...

Well, it would seem that everyone is in agreement; we all need a vacation.

There are a few problems inherent with that concept. First, The Wrench has already used all of his vacation for the year; something that can not yet be talked about here had to be dealt with, and he voluntarily gave up his vacation for the rest of this year to help me through a dark and terrible time.

That is how The Wrench is - he knew that I needed him, knew that I could face it alone, but also that I would be stronger and feel safer with him by my side. And so, he was there. There was no discussion, it just happened.

And now, he has no vacation left for the rest of this year.

The Twinkster, of course, will have summer vacation beginning at the end of this month. School starts earlier here in the heartland - well before Labor Day - and so we typically are done several weeks earlier than most of the rest of the country.

I have no vacation to request or apply for; I am The Mommy. I do some freelance work here and there, but my first and most important job is to care for my family. When you are The Mommy, it means that you are always at work, just as when you are The Daddy. The hours can sometimes totally suck, but the benefits are completely life-changing.

But, The Wrench and I are nothing if not resourceful. The vacation issue seems laughably small in the face of what we have just endured; the answer was easy to find; it was right there in the clock on the wall.

You may recall that The Wrench works second shift. All the time - unlike many of his co-workers, The Wrench stays on "seconds" so that he does not have to endure the madness of "shift change" every month. At his facility, there are three possible shifts to rotate through; most of the people on third shift have elected to stay there as well; they are night owls by nature, and enjoy starting work at midnight. The Wrench found a slot on seconds nearly 15 years ago, and has worked there ever since, with one notable exception: when our little Twinkie was born. Then, he called in a few favors, and was able to stay on "days" for about the first six months or so after she was born.

There are benefits to The Wrench staying on seconds; school assemblies in our town are always in the morning, so he never has to worry about missing Twinks big event at school. As I've mentioned before, he gets up early every morning to spend time with her before she leaves for school; they breakfast together, then he drives her to school. It's easy to go shopping, too; he either goes after work (at the 24-hour WM) or he can go in the mornings while everyone else is at work. And my favorite benefit of all is that he and I get to have lunch together every day.

So, we decided to take advantage of his schedule. With Twinks back at school full-time, it was easy to slip away for a few hours every day; often just for lunch someplace we ordinarily would not have, just sitting together and catching up with one another again - as adults. For the first time in a long time, we talked about anything but doctors and appointments and hospital trips. We laughed, and we held hands, and more than a few people must have thought we were on a date because old married people just don't act that way. We focused on each other during those sweet hours, and we remembered why we fell in love in the first place.

The best things can come in small packages. These tiny packages of time together - like little bright, shining jewels - were so precious to us. It wasn't a traditional vacation in any sense of the word, but it was every bit as refreshing.

School will start again late in August. Day trips will begin shortly thereafter...