After two years living by myself, I have finally learned how to get some sleep alone in my house. Don't think it hasn't been hard.
I still sleep "on my side" of the bed (when I sleep in the bed and not fall asleep on the couch). I still sleep with a fan and the t.v. going so I have "noise to sleep by." I still get up in the middle of the night when I hear something, flipping light switches as I go.
Last night was no exception.
My blood pressure meds are out of sync, thanks to the pharmacy being out of my heart pill that controls my angina. They gave me a few days worth to get by until their shipment came in. I went to bed early (8:30p) with a pounding headache and my heart beating clear out of my chest.
I was awakened at 2:00 a.m., by what I thought was someone breaking into my house! And they are NOT being quiet either.
With my already pounding heart, up way up in my throat, I stomped down the hall, flipping switches as I went. Someone asked me later, as I related this story, had I had the presence of mind to at least carry the shotgun, which thankfully, I had not.
The table between the couch and love seat was overturned, all it's contents on the floor. Things on the coffee table were also on the floor and several books were knocked off a book shelf by the front door. Things definitely looked amiss.
About that time my cat, JB, whizzed by me. He looked like SuperCat, not because he was practically climbing the walls, but because he had on a little, blue cape. I know I was not dreaming that, and though he was circling the living room "full tilt boogie." I leaned against the door facing, trying to focus, and take it all in. Yes, definitely cape-like. I thought about my glasses, back on my bedside table. I squinted as he made another round. As my groggy, presbyopic eyes started to focus, was clear to see that he was in the clutches of a blue bag from Wallyworld.
I know that it had once held various items from the old car that I had stashed under the desk. Obviously, he had gotten curious and started sniffing around it. His head, and what looked to be one front leg poked through the bag handle, and the rest trailed off behind him like a cape. He started to howl as he made another lap around the living room.
I was not awake enough to process this scene, nor could I catch him. He was obviously terrified, yowling as if he were in pain. He was trying hard to escape from his "tormentor|, that was mysteriously, just as fast as he was. He made two more laps around the living room (one almost knee high on the wall), and shot thru the cat door into the garage.
Now everyone knows that, despite changes around my house, the garage is still full of crap. One thing at a time folks. JB has a favorite hidey-hole that he retreats to when visitors arrive (except Huck: he will come out and love all over Huck, darn it). It's a cardboard box on the far side of the garage on top of a mountain of stuff. "Kitty, you know I can't help you over there, if I can't get to you!" I whined. He stared out at me, wild-eyed and yowling. Try as I might, I could not reach him.
Knowing that he would eventually seek me out, I sat down on the couch to wait. The
"Cleveland Show" was on. I watched, trying to stay awake. About 15 min later, I hear the cat door and he came belly crawling into the living room, the bag still in place.
He headed straight for his favorite chair, but his attempt to hide from his "captor" was thwarted. The unforgiving bag, got caught on the corner and tugged back. Only then did he give up, flopping over on his side. His begging eyes met mine. "Please help me" they seemed to say.
I picked him up, his little heart was yammering in his chest, and his pupils still wide with fear. I freed him from the bag and he relaxed. I hugged him tight, and told him everything would be okay. The expression on his face was one of pure love and immense grattitude for his human.
I was so amped up after all the hub-bub, I could not go back to bed. I went to work sleep deprived, cranky, with my chest hurting and a lingering head ache. It was a really long day.
All for saving "the world" from a sinister walmart bag.....
Showing posts with label Holy Crap Batman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holy Crap Batman. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Two Down....More to Come!
Last night was my second official date with BFD. I am really starting to like this guy.
We discussed the menu items. He, having listened during previous conversations and retained such knowledge, pointed me in the direction of the items on the menu that were gluten free. When the waitress came around, he ordered for me, even remembering to mention skipping the croutons on my salad...something I ALWAYS forget to do myself. And when it was all over, he PAID for everything.
What a switch!
THIS is how one treats a lady.
I guess that I should have mentioned that I am allergic to blue cheese. I was so impressed that a man was actually thinking of someone other than himself, I didn't bother to read what was included on the salad that he had suggested to me. When the loaded-to-the-hilt salad arrived at our table, along with the berry vinegrette dressing that I love (and, as luck would have it, he does too) I couldn't help but dig right in. It was in my very first bite. It is very hard to be beautiful and dainty when one is choking on a mouthful of nasty, moldy, blue cheese.
As I went to the ladies room to throw up, BFD ordered me another salad.
Conversation was easy as we talked about work, our children, our stubborn, 90 year old grandmothers who both still drive, and crazy Islamics. Before we realized it, the restaurant was closing up!
Yeah, there is definately going to be a date #3.
We discussed the menu items. He, having listened during previous conversations and retained such knowledge, pointed me in the direction of the items on the menu that were gluten free. When the waitress came around, he ordered for me, even remembering to mention skipping the croutons on my salad...something I ALWAYS forget to do myself. And when it was all over, he PAID for everything.
What a switch!
THIS is how one treats a lady.
I guess that I should have mentioned that I am allergic to blue cheese. I was so impressed that a man was actually thinking of someone other than himself, I didn't bother to read what was included on the salad that he had suggested to me. When the loaded-to-the-hilt salad arrived at our table, along with the berry vinegrette dressing that I love (and, as luck would have it, he does too) I couldn't help but dig right in. It was in my very first bite. It is very hard to be beautiful and dainty when one is choking on a mouthful of nasty, moldy, blue cheese.
As I went to the ladies room to throw up, BFD ordered me another salad.
Conversation was easy as we talked about work, our children, our stubborn, 90 year old grandmothers who both still drive, and crazy Islamics. Before we realized it, the restaurant was closing up!
Yeah, there is definately going to be a date #3.
Monday, August 18, 2014
No Good Deed....
The old saying goes "no good deed goes unpunished" and this week I guess that applies to my dad.
My dad has done a lot for me over the past few months, as has all of my family, and I am very grateful, He has been very generous.
I guess that has gotten ol' Forked Foot (aka....the devil)'s attention, and he is now doing his best to discourage my dad's generosity.
Saturday he got the call that his four wheeler was stolen from the local Big Name four wheeler repair shop. for some reason, it was stored outside with many others, all linked together on a cable, bolted to the ground. Thankfully, they are well insured and that situation will be recified quickly, but I bet Big Name's night watchman is out of a job today.
Saturdary evening, while watching one of a slew of newly aquired movies (that $5 movie bin at Wallyworld, gets me every time) I had a hankering for some microwaved popcorn. I put the bag in the microwave, hit the 2 minute button and ZAP!! the lights went out. I went out to the garage, climbed over the assorted junk to the breaker box.
After many failed attempts to reset the breaker, I finally gave up and posted my frustration on FB.
There was lots of advice from friends as to what to check and what to do, when I got the message from Daddy that he would come see what the problem was.
It was 10pm. After removing all the plugs, switches and the flourescent light over my sink, and checking all the connections, the switch would still not reset. It was nearly midnite when we decided that maybe we should look for other solutions on Sunday, when the local big box hardware store was open.
When Daddy came back the next day, I was deep in my Sunday project.
Our next course of investigation was the breaker switch itself. I had lived in that house 13 years and we had never had to change out a breaker switch so Daddy felt that might be the problem. A bad switch. He unwired the suspected switch and sent me off to the big box hardware store. He looks down at my project, and says to me "Do you want me to finish that while you are gone, or do you want me to cut your grass?"
I kinda hate cutting the grass, so that was the option that I chose.
I set off for the store and Daddy went around the back to get the lawnmower.
I was amazed when I returned, a mere twenty minutes later to find both the front and back yard completely mowed. Daddy was obviously bookin' it! He was putting up the mower when I pulled in.
He took my new breaker switches (which I could have found all on my own had they been marked the same way...add to list "shop for electrical components with only minor help of a man") and swapped the bad one out. Plugging a lamp into the outlet confirmed we had repaired the problem.
As Daddy was putting the outlets back in the wall, he called back to me. "I can't find my phone"
"Do you want me to call it?" I replied, dialing the number. It rang three times and went to voice mail.
"Maybe it's in my chair, back at the house" he said, tightening wire nuts before pushing the outlet back in the wall. I call my stepmother. She answered and I asked her if Daddy's phone was in his chair. No, was the reply. I walked outside why explaining my odd request.
And there, sitting under the bushes by the fence, I saw what looked like his leather phone case.
"Oh..." I said with a gasp, " I think I found it" and trotted across the yard.
Yes, I found the case, and the remains to the phone, obviously a victim of the lawn mower, strewn all about. "Oh shit" I said, my stepmother still on the other end of the phone, "the lawn mower got it"
"Well, I take it that you found it" she chuckled, "Yes ma'am I did" I replied. We bid each other farewell and I gingerly carried what I could find of it back into the house. I deposited it on the counter next to Daddy.
"Oh no!" exclaimed. "I think the lawn mower got it" I said, frowning. "Yeah, I think you are right. Oh well, I have an old flip phone I can use til I can go phone shopping" I felt really bad. Daddy was just trying to help me out and for that, he wound up loosing his phone.
No good deed...
My dad has done a lot for me over the past few months, as has all of my family, and I am very grateful, He has been very generous.
I guess that has gotten ol' Forked Foot (aka....the devil)'s attention, and he is now doing his best to discourage my dad's generosity.
Saturday he got the call that his four wheeler was stolen from the local Big Name four wheeler repair shop. for some reason, it was stored outside with many others, all linked together on a cable, bolted to the ground. Thankfully, they are well insured and that situation will be recified quickly, but I bet Big Name's night watchman is out of a job today.
Saturdary evening, while watching one of a slew of newly aquired movies (that $5 movie bin at Wallyworld, gets me every time) I had a hankering for some microwaved popcorn. I put the bag in the microwave, hit the 2 minute button and ZAP!! the lights went out. I went out to the garage, climbed over the assorted junk to the breaker box.
After many failed attempts to reset the breaker, I finally gave up and posted my frustration on FB.
There was lots of advice from friends as to what to check and what to do, when I got the message from Daddy that he would come see what the problem was.
It was 10pm. After removing all the plugs, switches and the flourescent light over my sink, and checking all the connections, the switch would still not reset. It was nearly midnite when we decided that maybe we should look for other solutions on Sunday, when the local big box hardware store was open.
When Daddy came back the next day, I was deep in my Sunday project.
I had been needing some shoe racks to store my mountain of shoes, that are currently in several totes in my closet room. Just someting to get them out of the floor. and arranged nicely so that I can see them and not have to spend my mornings digging through the assortment of totes.
I was at this point, when he arrived. Let me just say, there is a tiny, frustrating screw that matches each one of these pegs. Well, actually, there are two.
In my zeal, I had already ignored the directions, so I was dealing with this project at it's full 5 feet, rather than dealing with two more managable 2.5 foot secections. I am not one for really following directions, and sometimes that is my downfall. But I digress.
Our next course of investigation was the breaker switch itself. I had lived in that house 13 years and we had never had to change out a breaker switch so Daddy felt that might be the problem. A bad switch. He unwired the suspected switch and sent me off to the big box hardware store. He looks down at my project, and says to me "Do you want me to finish that while you are gone, or do you want me to cut your grass?"
I kinda hate cutting the grass, so that was the option that I chose.
I set off for the store and Daddy went around the back to get the lawnmower.
I was amazed when I returned, a mere twenty minutes later to find both the front and back yard completely mowed. Daddy was obviously bookin' it! He was putting up the mower when I pulled in.
He took my new breaker switches (which I could have found all on my own had they been marked the same way...add to list "shop for electrical components with only minor help of a man") and swapped the bad one out. Plugging a lamp into the outlet confirmed we had repaired the problem.
As Daddy was putting the outlets back in the wall, he called back to me. "I can't find my phone"
"Do you want me to call it?" I replied, dialing the number. It rang three times and went to voice mail.
"Maybe it's in my chair, back at the house" he said, tightening wire nuts before pushing the outlet back in the wall. I call my stepmother. She answered and I asked her if Daddy's phone was in his chair. No, was the reply. I walked outside why explaining my odd request.
And there, sitting under the bushes by the fence, I saw what looked like his leather phone case.
"Oh..." I said with a gasp, " I think I found it" and trotted across the yard.
Yes, I found the case, and the remains to the phone, obviously a victim of the lawn mower, strewn all about. "Oh shit" I said, my stepmother still on the other end of the phone, "the lawn mower got it"
"Well, I take it that you found it" she chuckled, "Yes ma'am I did" I replied. We bid each other farewell and I gingerly carried what I could find of it back into the house. I deposited it on the counter next to Daddy.
"Oh no!" exclaimed. "I think the lawn mower got it" I said, frowning. "Yeah, I think you are right. Oh well, I have an old flip phone I can use til I can go phone shopping" I felt really bad. Daddy was just trying to help me out and for that, he wound up loosing his phone.
No good deed...
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Comedy and Tragedy
Both comedy and tragedy live within every soul.
They battle to take control of our lives and most obtain a balance between the two. But some, despite the best efforts to convince others and live a comedic life on the outside, actually sucumb to tragedy.
Such was the life of Robin Williams.
They battle to take control of our lives and most obtain a balance between the two. But some, despite the best efforts to convince others and live a comedic life on the outside, actually sucumb to tragedy.
Such was the life of Robin Williams.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
3 Years Ago ...
Three years ago this week, I was shaken, but extremely grateful.
We had just been through a tornado.
I had never been more afraid in my life.
But...
My house was damaged, but still standing.
My husband was injured, but alive.
And as the next weeks would unfold, people buried their loved ones, my family was whole. People in cities all around us, lived in tents, sifting through the ashes of their lives, I had more than enough.
I was never more thankful to God than I was then.
A reminder of that day is still in my back yard. I see it every day.
The random mystery tree, tangled up in the trees outside the kitchen window.
Still immovable.
My life has changed, but that one thing is constant.
And comforting.
A reminder that God had spared us for other things.
Now ....to find out what
We had just been through a tornado.
I had never been more afraid in my life.
But...
My house was damaged, but still standing.
My husband was injured, but alive.
And as the next weeks would unfold, people buried their loved ones, my family was whole. People in cities all around us, lived in tents, sifting through the ashes of their lives, I had more than enough.
I was never more thankful to God than I was then.
A reminder of that day is still in my back yard. I see it every day.
The random mystery tree, tangled up in the trees outside the kitchen window.
Still immovable.
My life has changed, but that one thing is constant.
And comforting.
A reminder that God had spared us for other things.
Now ....to find out what
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Ain't That Just My Luck
Well, I've had a little "adventure."
Those who know me, know that "adventure" is my code word for anything bad that has happened or, in more colorful terms, a "WTF!" moment.
In the beginning of my career, the managers had all attended a seminar on positive thinking. The root of changing your thinking from negatie to positive comes in the words you use to describe what happens to you. "Problems" become "Challenges" or "Opportunities", becoming "Overwhelmed" or "Stressed" becomes "In High Demand," being "Lost" becomes an "Adventure." Get it? I was not in management at that time, but rememeber all our managers walking around correcting others when they used a negative description. It was hard not to pick up.
So this was a Challenge that put me In High Demand.
The Big Boss (i.e. My Bosses Boss) has retired after 32 years with our company.
The company threw a lovely retirement party downtown in an event space, open only to members, called The Summit Club. The Summit Club sits on the 31st and 32nd floors of Birmingham's Regions Harbert Plaza. The building is affectionately known around town as "The Ghostbuster's Building" based on it's art deco styling, and being the second tallest building in the city.
Regions Harbert Plaza \/
Now if you look, just to the right of the RHP, you will see a short beige building with lots of windows. That is a building called Park Place Towers. I know, not exactly towering but it is on Park Place. Between PPT and RHP sits a parking garage, used by both buildings.
The cocktail reception started at 6pm, with dinner at 7pm. As someone who gets turned around pretty easily in the city, with it's one way streets and constant construction, I was at RHP at 5:30pm. I was already apprehensive about attending this event given it was going to be outside my "safe zone."
I try not to go anywhere above the 5th floor. This was pre-911 too. Did you know the average fire and rescue hook-and-ladder truck can only reach the fifth floor of your typical office building? Well, now you do. And I bet you will think about it next time you travel above that fifth floor, at least once.That never bothered me before either, until I found that out. Now it is a constant, nagging thought, that I fight, along with the ensuing panic attack. I was trying not to think about it all day long.
It was a good thing that I was early. I had driven around the block twice trying to find the entrance to this parking deck, that was tucked in an alley on the other side of the building. I parked my car on the second floor of the Sixth Avenue side and hurried across the street.
Elevators have always freaked me out. I have quite a history of unfortunate events surrounding elevators, and many coworkers have been on hand to witness them because it usually happened at our company Sales Meeting. Like not being able to het my suitcase on a full car, the doors closing between us. I rode down and my suitcase was left orphaned floors above, or the heel of my shoe being hopelessly stuck in the space between the floor and the car, making everyone trapped along with me late for dinner. Or becoming trapped for close to two hours in the hotel elevator trying. By the way, if that should happen to you in the Birmingham-metro area, do not panic when they inform you that "the fire department is on the way." Apparently firemen are the only ones trained to operate elevators.
The elevator ride was harrowing. These particular elevators skip floors two through fifteen, servicing only floors sixteen through thirty-two. The first part of the ride is a short, quick burst. Once it reached the sixteenth floor, the car shook violently, and continued to do so as it passed each floor. I was caught so off guard I let out a loud, audible yelp. The fellow in the elevator eyed me suspiciously. He must have been a frequent flyer. When we finally reached the 31st floor, it was all I could do not to kiss the marble floor.
I could feel the building swaying, but tried not to think about it. I was 26 floors above my "safe zone" and trying not to panic, or at least, let on that I was panicking. Another semi-retired long term employee, "Old Tom" was already, helping set up the presentation. He motioned for me to come to the (gulp) window.
After a few minutes of staring out the window at I-20/59 passing by the Civic Center and the Alabama School of Fine Arts, winding onto I-65, and I was aclimated to my height. Since I am deathly afraid of heights, this was an accomplishment. A few rum and pineapples also helped.
The party was fun, as many retirees were in attendance. Many had not seen me in quite a while and complimented me on my weight loss. Big Bosses children, all having once worked for the company as well, were most complimentary. There were speeches, sharing memories, a few tears, a few senior moments and even one coreographed cheer.
Everyone said their goodbyes and I prepared myself for the zipline elevator ride to the ground floor. Several coworkers rode down with me, all familiar with my luck with elevators ("Should we be riding this elevator with Joy?!" one had quipped) and we made our way out in to the lobby.
As I exited the building, I saw the gates closed and locked on the parking deck. My car, lights peeping out over the second floor barrier, looked like a puppy trapped in a fence. That was when I saw the sign. At the bottom of the sign that outlined the parking rates (in the same size and color font I might add) it read "Lot closes at 6pm."
Ain't that just my luck?! Feet firmly on the ground, I panicked.
The Numero Uno Executive Assistant To The President was opening her car across the street. She asked if I was okay. I explained my plight. She accompanied me back inside to speak to the security guard at RHP. He was really helpful....not. A no-nonsense Yankee, despite her many years in the South, told me to calm down, and that if she had to, she would drive me home and then come get me bright and early to get my car.
That is when the President and CEO of my multimillion dollar nationally-branded company exited the elevators across from us. You know that you have a President and CEO that cares about his people when he takes the time to call you by your name. Numero Uno explained what was happening, pointing across to the parking deck. "We will find someone" he announced and stormed out the doors into the street. He surveyed the situation and declared that there must be someone on the other side of the building. Off he marched down the block and disappeared around the corner. At nearly 9pm. Alone, In downtown Birmingham.
As I stood there, I saw a telephone number for security on the bottom of the same sign (same color font, even smaller letters) and called. The gentleman that answered told us to come to the other side of the building. Numero Uno and I got in her car and drove around the block. No sign of the Prez, but she had him call him to let him know where we were.
He answered in his bold voice, and I told him we were on the move. I don't think that he heard me, as he was obviously ordering someone to the gate. I really think he may have adult ADD. He was a 'make things happen" kind of person and when he was in "fix it" mode, he would not be distracted.
Phone to my ear, I could hear him calling my name out on the street. And I couldn't get him back to the phone to tell him we were coming back around the block.
When we got back around, there stood the Prez, hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer, and a very nervous-looking security guard. The gate was up and they were waiting for me. The Prez offered to pay for my parking, which I of course declined. He waited as the security guard escorted me to my car. Despite the charge only being $10, the money from the register long collected, I gave the security guy my twenty, told him to keep the change as a tip (I've always wanted to do that) for his trouble and bid him adieu.
As I drove home, I thought what a lucky break this was. I didn't even think about the extra $10.
I thought about what a lucky girl I am to work for a company with people, at all levels, that care about each other.
No...not lucky...BLESSED
~En-JOY
Those who know me, know that "adventure" is my code word for anything bad that has happened or, in more colorful terms, a "WTF!" moment.
In the beginning of my career, the managers had all attended a seminar on positive thinking. The root of changing your thinking from negatie to positive comes in the words you use to describe what happens to you. "Problems" become "Challenges" or "Opportunities", becoming "Overwhelmed" or "Stressed" becomes "In High Demand," being "Lost" becomes an "Adventure." Get it? I was not in management at that time, but rememeber all our managers walking around correcting others when they used a negative description. It was hard not to pick up.
So this was a Challenge that put me In High Demand.
The Big Boss (i.e. My Bosses Boss) has retired after 32 years with our company.
The company threw a lovely retirement party downtown in an event space, open only to members, called The Summit Club. The Summit Club sits on the 31st and 32nd floors of Birmingham's Regions Harbert Plaza. The building is affectionately known around town as "The Ghostbuster's Building" based on it's art deco styling, and being the second tallest building in the city.
Regions Harbert Plaza \/
Now if you look, just to the right of the RHP, you will see a short beige building with lots of windows. That is a building called Park Place Towers. I know, not exactly towering but it is on Park Place. Between PPT and RHP sits a parking garage, used by both buildings.
The cocktail reception started at 6pm, with dinner at 7pm. As someone who gets turned around pretty easily in the city, with it's one way streets and constant construction, I was at RHP at 5:30pm. I was already apprehensive about attending this event given it was going to be outside my "safe zone."
I try not to go anywhere above the 5th floor. This was pre-911 too. Did you know the average fire and rescue hook-and-ladder truck can only reach the fifth floor of your typical office building? Well, now you do. And I bet you will think about it next time you travel above that fifth floor, at least once.That never bothered me before either, until I found that out. Now it is a constant, nagging thought, that I fight, along with the ensuing panic attack. I was trying not to think about it all day long.
It was a good thing that I was early. I had driven around the block twice trying to find the entrance to this parking deck, that was tucked in an alley on the other side of the building. I parked my car on the second floor of the Sixth Avenue side and hurried across the street.
Elevators have always freaked me out. I have quite a history of unfortunate events surrounding elevators, and many coworkers have been on hand to witness them because it usually happened at our company Sales Meeting. Like not being able to het my suitcase on a full car, the doors closing between us. I rode down and my suitcase was left orphaned floors above, or the heel of my shoe being hopelessly stuck in the space between the floor and the car, making everyone trapped along with me late for dinner. Or becoming trapped for close to two hours in the hotel elevator trying. By the way, if that should happen to you in the Birmingham-metro area, do not panic when they inform you that "the fire department is on the way." Apparently firemen are the only ones trained to operate elevators.
The elevator ride was harrowing. These particular elevators skip floors two through fifteen, servicing only floors sixteen through thirty-two. The first part of the ride is a short, quick burst. Once it reached the sixteenth floor, the car shook violently, and continued to do so as it passed each floor. I was caught so off guard I let out a loud, audible yelp. The fellow in the elevator eyed me suspiciously. He must have been a frequent flyer. When we finally reached the 31st floor, it was all I could do not to kiss the marble floor.
I could feel the building swaying, but tried not to think about it. I was 26 floors above my "safe zone" and trying not to panic, or at least, let on that I was panicking. Another semi-retired long term employee, "Old Tom" was already, helping set up the presentation. He motioned for me to come to the (gulp) window.
After a few minutes of staring out the window at I-20/59 passing by the Civic Center and the Alabama School of Fine Arts, winding onto I-65, and I was aclimated to my height. Since I am deathly afraid of heights, this was an accomplishment. A few rum and pineapples also helped.
The party was fun, as many retirees were in attendance. Many had not seen me in quite a while and complimented me on my weight loss. Big Bosses children, all having once worked for the company as well, were most complimentary. There were speeches, sharing memories, a few tears, a few senior moments and even one coreographed cheer.
Everyone said their goodbyes and I prepared myself for the zipline elevator ride to the ground floor. Several coworkers rode down with me, all familiar with my luck with elevators ("Should we be riding this elevator with Joy?!" one had quipped) and we made our way out in to the lobby.
As I exited the building, I saw the gates closed and locked on the parking deck. My car, lights peeping out over the second floor barrier, looked like a puppy trapped in a fence. That was when I saw the sign. At the bottom of the sign that outlined the parking rates (in the same size and color font I might add) it read "Lot closes at 6pm."
Ain't that just my luck?! Feet firmly on the ground, I panicked.
The Numero Uno Executive Assistant To The President was opening her car across the street. She asked if I was okay. I explained my plight. She accompanied me back inside to speak to the security guard at RHP. He was really helpful....not. A no-nonsense Yankee, despite her many years in the South, told me to calm down, and that if she had to, she would drive me home and then come get me bright and early to get my car.
That is when the President and CEO of my multimillion dollar nationally-branded company exited the elevators across from us. You know that you have a President and CEO that cares about his people when he takes the time to call you by your name. Numero Uno explained what was happening, pointing across to the parking deck. "We will find someone" he announced and stormed out the doors into the street. He surveyed the situation and declared that there must be someone on the other side of the building. Off he marched down the block and disappeared around the corner. At nearly 9pm. Alone, In downtown Birmingham.
As I stood there, I saw a telephone number for security on the bottom of the same sign (same color font, even smaller letters) and called. The gentleman that answered told us to come to the other side of the building. Numero Uno and I got in her car and drove around the block. No sign of the Prez, but she had him call him to let him know where we were.
He answered in his bold voice, and I told him we were on the move. I don't think that he heard me, as he was obviously ordering someone to the gate. I really think he may have adult ADD. He was a 'make things happen" kind of person and when he was in "fix it" mode, he would not be distracted.
Phone to my ear, I could hear him calling my name out on the street. And I couldn't get him back to the phone to tell him we were coming back around the block.
When we got back around, there stood the Prez, hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer, and a very nervous-looking security guard. The gate was up and they were waiting for me. The Prez offered to pay for my parking, which I of course declined. He waited as the security guard escorted me to my car. Despite the charge only being $10, the money from the register long collected, I gave the security guy my twenty, told him to keep the change as a tip (I've always wanted to do that) for his trouble and bid him adieu.
As I drove home, I thought what a lucky break this was. I didn't even think about the extra $10.
I thought about what a lucky girl I am to work for a company with people, at all levels, that care about each other.
No...not lucky...BLESSED
~En-JOY
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
SMOWMAGEDDON 2014
I am reporting to you after surviving SNOWMAGEDDON 2014. I am happy to say, my "adventure" is over.
The state of Alabama knew that the central portion of our state would get "a light dusting of snow" on Monday night. What we got was a repeat of the Blizzard of 1993!
At 11:00 a.m. I left work, bound for home. The Chief told me to stick to the interstate because it would be heavily travelled. Little did I know just a few short hours, I would be trapped in one of the most harrowing experiences I have faced so far.
It was slow going. It took an hour to make what is usually a fifteen minute drive from the office to the interstate. I inched my way along, finally reaching the interstate, careful not to slam on my brakes. The snow was sticking and there were no ruts to follow, even behind the 18 wheelers. I made my way on to I-20, headed out of Birmingham, where the conditions seemed to improve.
Being alone with my thoughts right now, is not a good thing. I have the opportunity to mull over the past few weeks. The longer that I drove, the more angry I got at Darling Hubby (and his mistress) for what he had done to me. Despite being an awful driver any other time, he was amazingly calm, and drove surprisingly well on snow and ice. I had admired him for that. He had always driven during situations like this, and I had always felt safe and protected.
But I was going to have to do this alone sometime, and now was as good a time as any.
By the time I had reached the I-459 interchange, just outside of Irondale, it was clear that something had happened up ahead. Traffic was at a standstill. It was now 1;30 p.m. My family texted me, as cell service was down due to jammed circuits. I was glad that I had bought gas on the way home the night before. I was going to need it.
I watched as 18 wheelers slipped and caught, rocking the trailers from side to side.
It made me nervous and I tried my best to stay behind them. But as my lane would inch forward, I would find myself next to them again.
It took over an hour to make the otherwise short drive toward the Leeds exit.
As I approached the Leeds exit, I could see the traffic snarl below the Bass Pro Shop. "Goat Hill" looked like a parking lot. A long line of cars waited on the entrance ramp. I watched as several calls made a break along the shoulder of the road, only to be stymied by an empty car further up the way. I was averaging just a few dozen feet, but those were a few dozen feet closer to home.
I texted friends to see what progress they were making. One, a father, was frantically trying to get to his girlfriend and their baby who was stranded on I-20 driving in the opposite direction, She had picked up the baby from her parents and didn't even have a bottle for him. His phone was fading fast and her phone was apparently already dead.
I texted another, who I will call Brown Eyes (because, well, he has brown eyes: the second set I had ever fallen for, the first being JC when I was in first grade) or B/E for short, to see if he had any trouble getting home. He lived in the opposite direction from town. He replied that he had stayed on back roads and though it took a little longer than normal, had made it home in one piece.
I had made it about a mile past the Leeds exit and the traffic was moving less and less. Many had begun abandoning their vehicles and walking along the shoulder of the road. Rescue vehicles had begun driving the wrong way on the opposite side of the interstate and I could see the tops of cars and trucks over the concrete wall as they followed. I was starting to go stir crazy and my heart was starting to race. Earlier I had been able to take my medicine on time, thanks to a unopened bottle of water from the Susan G. Komen walk in October. I had read about the dangers of drinking water that had been left in ones car. I drank only enough to get the pills down for fear of poisoning myself. My chest began to hurt. All I could think was that I was going to have a heart attack and no one would be able to get to me. I would die in my car on the side of I-20. Panicked, I frantically texted friends to talk me down off the ledge.
It was now five o'clock and I suddenly had a more pressing matter to attend to: I had to pee.
I had started discussing it with my mother about an hour before. At the time, I was in the center lane. I explained how I was surrounded by traffic and there was no ideal way to handle the situation. Each time that I'd muster the courage, traffic would move a few feet, so I was afraid of getting caught with my pants down (pardon the pun) when traffic started moving. I didn't really have to go at the time, but knew it would not be long before it was pressing. She called me back with the solution. I just had to make it into the right lane.
As luck would have it, a spot opened up, and I was able to get in the right lane, behind a woman in a black sports car. She was irritating me by letting others into the lane in front of her, so we were not moving. I spent a good ten minutes cursing at the back of her head. It was now dark and the snow was quickly forming ice. I watched as she would inch forward in her front-wheel-drive car, while dragging her back tires like a sled along behind her. I guessed that I was doing that too.
The plan was to open the passenger doors, both front and back, then squat between them. That way I would be shielded She suggested that I take off my vintage wool dress coat to do the deed. I wriggled free of it and threw it into the back seat, where I also put my purse and the reusable shopping bag, that I lovingly refer to as "my briefcase," so as not to knock them out of the car. I gathered two or three napkins I had found in the console and put them in the seat. I crawled over into the passenger seat, looking back out the front window to insure that traffic wasn't moving. I reached back and opened the back passenger door. When I opened the front passenger door, a gust of wind carried my napkins off into the night. But worse than all that, the interior light came on.
As if peeing on the side of the road was not bad enough, now I was going to do it under a spot light.
I bent over at the waist and unbuttoned my pants, squatting and pulling them down at the same time to avoid a show. The air was cold and the momentary blast on my bare backside, made getting things started nearly impossible. I thought that I heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow. Great, now I had looky loos coming up behind me. The ice on the side of the road was slick and my high-heeled boots had begun to slide. My feet were steadily sliding further and further apart. I already had a cramp in my right butt cheek from standing on the brake for so long. I was trying to relax and "let it flow." I frantically fished around in the floorboard for more napkins, managing to only come up with one. My sliding feet were now putting my boots and pants in the way. I squeezed my thighs together to try and bring my feet in, all the while bracing my abs to keep myself upright. THIS was much more of a workout than I bargained for!
It took forever! I had always been able to do my business really quickly, but this moment of torture seemed to go on forever. Across from me, I could see two drivers of 18 wheelers, standing between their rigs talking. Both were facing me. Just on the other side of my car, I could see the white van, carrying a family of four. I could see the mother in the front seat point my direction. It didn't matter. What are the odds I will ever see these people again? When I was done I dabbed with the napkin and dropped it, trying to pull my pants up with the same motion that I had taken them down with. I closed the back door. I could see the shadow of the woman behind me trying to crane her neck to see what I had been up to. I mouthed the words "making yellow snow" at her and crawled back into the car.
With that over, I was able to calm down and relax. Traffic had not moved in several minutes. I decide to try a call to B/E. After getting the "all circuits are busy" for most of the day, I was relieved to hear him answer.
Have you ever had an old friend that you could call for whatever reason, no matter how much time had passed, and they instantly made you feel better? B/E had always had a calming effect on me. We had always been better friends that girlfriend/boyfriend, and though we did date, we parted amicably. We had been in touch, on and off over the years, the Lord sending him into my life as the voice of reason at just the right times. Though I hadn't spoken with him since my last divorce nearly twenty years ago, the first time we spoke two weeks ago,we talked like we had just spoken the day before.
We talked about the weather, how I was still in nearly the same spot as I was when I texted earlier, how I had suffered the ultimate indignity and peed on the side of the road in front of hundreds of strangers. He cackled. "You didn't have a cup or a bottle in the car?" Well, as a matter of fact, yes I had a bottle, but I was not exactly equipped to pee in a bottle. Really, that is the only time that ever wish I had been born male. We discussed the options of using the bottle versus what I had done (another perk of talking with old friends is that they tell you like it is). I can honestly say if this ever happens again, I won't have a problem jumping out of the car to handle business. Sounds a lot neater.
I never thought about the fact that I didn't have a way to wash my hands until just now, but now think that was a good thing. My "Lady Macbeth Syndrome" would have kicked over in high gear. The last thing I needed was to have hives too.
He's given me great insight over the past few days on my present situation and D/H, having survived a similar situation himself. I told him how I was mad with D/H, simply because he could drive on ice and snow and had he been faithful to his vows "to love, honor and cherish, holding only unto me, as long as we both should live," that we would at least be facing this ordeal together. He listened, and told me that he knew how I felt, but I would get through this. Each challenge I faced by myself and accomplished, would make me stronger.
We talked for a while, interrupted occasionally by a family member calling to gauge my progress. Droves of people walked past me. Where I was sitting, I could see a spot on the side of the road but was not quite to it. I told him about the 18 wheelers, spinning tires but making no headway. Of the chick in front of me, dragging her tires along ("you are probably doing the same thing" he had quipped) of the rear-wheeled drive compact car just ahead of me, spinning and sliding all over the road, and the Mustang ahead of that car that did the same. I told him I was rethinking buying another one after seeing that.
A call came in from a number that I didn't recognize, so I had him hold on for a bit to click over. It was my daughter's aunt T/L. "Hey, are you still up on the interstate?" I told her that I was and apprised her of my current location. "You are not far from us. Do you think that you could walk?" I wasn't sure at that point. I had on high heeled boots, I was wearing dress clothes. I did have a wool coat and gloves, but no hat. "I'm not at that point right now, but if I decide to ditch, I will call you back so you can look for me."
I went back to my conversation with B/E without cutting him off. I was finally learning how to use this stupid new phone. I told him of T/L's offer but how that would only be a last resort. It was after 9am and I needed to call my boss. If I was going to be out here much longer, I wasn't going to be worth anything at work the next day, where we were on a delayed opening of 10am.
We said our goodbyes and I called my boss. I told her how I was now approaching seven hours of sitting still on I-20 East with no end in sight. She was telling me of handling in coming calls and that my coworker, who also lived in my town, had made it home, despite leaving after me. I did not know how she did it without getting on the interstate somewhere or traversing a treacherous hilly road. About that time, a man knocked on my window. I asked her to hold on and rolled my window down. The man was offering me water. Another man walked up with a back of snack crackers.
"Are you sure you don't want the water?" the first man asked. "It's gonna be a long night" holding out the bottle to me. Hearing this my boss responded, "Oh my God"
"What? What do you mean?" I asked. "We've been moving a few feet within every hour" "Well that has stopped now that they've closed the interstate. The drivers ahead of all this, " he said waving his hand ahead of him, " are stopped for the night. No one is going anywhere." My boss repeated her comment, "OH MY GOD" I thanked them and rolled the window back up. "I guess you heard that" I said remorsefully. "What are you going to do?" she responded. "I have an offer from T/L to walk down and stay with them. They are only another mile or so down the road. I could walk that"
We said our goodbyes as well. I had finally made it up to the open space on the side of the road. I put the car in reverse and backed up just enough to clear the black sports car. It took some maneuvering but I managed to get into the spot, just big enough for my car, and leave room on either side to get out when I came back. I called T/L and told her to turn on the pool lights, visible from the interstate, get the ladder out to make it over the fence, because I am on my way. I sent a mass text to all that I had been speaking with and told them I was ditching. I explained that I had made this tough call after what the man had told me, I would be there all night, and I was down to a quarter tank of gas. I was going to need that to get home.
I called several folks and told them I was ditching and walking to T/L's. My BFF, Cyn, said her bubby could come retrieve me if he could find me. I later learned that he had driven the wrong way down I-20 West peering over the wall looking for me.
I looked around the car to make sure that I didn't see anything valuable. I put my phone in my purse and zipped it up tight. I made sure I had my gloves on and buttoned my coat. One button was off just enough that it gapped, but otherwise it was warm and toasty. I grabbed my "briefcase" and purse, took a deep breath and opened the door. I put my feet out on the ice, slowly and gingerly putting my weight on them. So far so good. I made sure to lock the doors, that I had my keys, and started out. It was just shy of 10 pm.
T/L told me to stick to the "puffy snow" rather than walking down the road, that would be mostly ice. I had not gone very far before I slipped and fell on the downward sloping shoulder. I walked in heels all the time, I decided stick to space between the road and the "rumble bars" instead. It was much easier to walk on. Abandoned cars littered the road, and were turned every which way. It looked as if a child had left them in the course of play, to answer his mother for dinner. I walked past the last two 18 wheelers and was shocked that there was not another soul on the road, all the way to the exit. I had been just a quarter mile from freedom. It had taken nearly an hour to get that far. The mile marker next to me read 142, which meant I was 2 miles from the exit. The road stretched out before me like a white carpet.
I walked on into the darkness, my positive attitude melting away with each frozen step. The thought that I could fall and hurt myself, or worse, tire out and collapse, kept inching it's way into my mind. The thought that I may die of exposure so close to home began to weigh on me.
Suddenly I heard the buzz of an ATV engine. I turned around to find a utility cart speeding up to me. It stopped next to me. There were two men up front and one sitting cross legged in the back."Where are you headed?" the driver asked. "Just up ahead, almost to the exit" I replied. "Can you take me?" I asked hopefully. "Sure, get in the back" The man in the back jumped out and helped me in. Then off we went. "I'm Paul" he said, offering his hand. "My preacher, the driver, and I decided to come down here to see if anyone needed any help. We found this fella, (the other passenger up front) he's a bad diabetic. He's been without insulin all day. We are taking him to the exit to meet his wife. " We rode on. In the car, this drive was less than 2 minutes. But in this little cart, it seemed to take forever.
The fact that his name had been Paul was not lost on me. The apostle Paul had been known by not only his beliefs but by his actions as well. I never thought to find out the preacher's name, or what church they were from. I was just glad to be moving. I later learned that my mother was desperately praying for the Lord to send help to me. These men were the answer to her prayer.
When we reached the house, I called T/L to let her know we had arrived. She came out on to the deck, her boyfriend followed behind with a ladder. Paul, the preacher and me made our way down the steep hill to the underbrush below. All I had to do was fight my way through the thicket, climb the fence, and I was home free. I had to crawl through the underbrush, snapping off twigs and bending back saplings along the way. "You got this?" Paul had called to me. I could not answer, I was focused on keeping my glasses on my face and the not tearing my coat. "No, little fella, you come here, I need you!" T/L called out to him, But he and the preacher were already struggling back up the hill. "Hey, you come here!" she called out, to no avail. She had wanted to give him $10 for his trouble, to use for gas. But they hopped in the cart and drove away. A guardian angel would not have taken a reward anyway.
Her boyfriend put the ladder over the game fence. This is a four foot wire fence, topped with barbed wire, used to keep game and other critters from making their way out onto the interstate. I climbed the ladder and he helped me down the other side. Finally safe, I hugged T/L. My legs, shaking badly, would not carry me any further. I nearly collapsed with relief. They practically carried me into the house.
T/L sprang into action. She seated me in front of the gas heater. She brought me dry clothes and socks. She brought me a hot bowl of chili. She fixed me a cup of coffee. She showed me the bed I'd be sleeping in. I was never so grateful.
I even made a new friend in the midst of my adventure. He's really great!
I slept like a rock, waking just before 7:00 am. The loud wail of an 18 wheelers jake-brakes woke me from a sound, dreamless sleep. From the window I could see traffic moving once again. A friend had told us that traffic started moving around 4am.
Around noon, we headed down I-20 West toward Leeds to retrieve my car. On the shoulder, cars made their way backwards up the exit ramp. When we reached the 140 exit, the abandoned cars looked like a scene out of a zombie movie. We made our way down to the entrance ramp and just short of getting back on I20 East, a state trooper blocked the entrance. A salt truck rumbled by.
After about 30 minutes, the rig in front of us started to move and we were on our way. I was less than a mile from my car. As we pulled up behind it, I could see that it had been safe, pulled off the road enough to be out of the line of traffic. I jumped out and fired it up. T/L motioned for me to come on. There was a break in the traffic and I gunned it to make it into the clear lane, I was so excited to be on the road and moving that I almost forgot the road was still dangerous.
As I followed them off the ramp, my first thought was to get gas. I couldn't get the card swiper to work, so I had to go inside, but I was so happy, I didn't care. Coffee was second on my mind. I waiting patiently as the waitress juggled a mountain of tickets, an obvious sign that they had been busy as a 24 hour establishment. The coffee was fabulous. I wonder where they get it (giggle).
When I arrived on my doorstep, it had been 27 hours since my ordeal began. I had faced it on my own, ( after getting good advice from smart people, of course) and triumphed.
Things are looking up
I was saddened to learn that my peaceful and quaint hometown had gained national attention by towing the cars of stranded motorists and charging between $175 and $300 to the owners. Well, you can't win 'em all.
~EnJoy!
http://www.al.com/opinion/index.ssf/2014/01/want_to_know_how_not_to_act_in.html
The state of Alabama knew that the central portion of our state would get "a light dusting of snow" on Monday night. What we got was a repeat of the Blizzard of 1993!
At 11:00 a.m. I left work, bound for home. The Chief told me to stick to the interstate because it would be heavily travelled. Little did I know just a few short hours, I would be trapped in one of the most harrowing experiences I have faced so far.
It was slow going. It took an hour to make what is usually a fifteen minute drive from the office to the interstate. I inched my way along, finally reaching the interstate, careful not to slam on my brakes. The snow was sticking and there were no ruts to follow, even behind the 18 wheelers. I made my way on to I-20, headed out of Birmingham, where the conditions seemed to improve.
Being alone with my thoughts right now, is not a good thing. I have the opportunity to mull over the past few weeks. The longer that I drove, the more angry I got at Darling Hubby (and his mistress) for what he had done to me. Despite being an awful driver any other time, he was amazingly calm, and drove surprisingly well on snow and ice. I had admired him for that. He had always driven during situations like this, and I had always felt safe and protected.
But I was going to have to do this alone sometime, and now was as good a time as any.
By the time I had reached the I-459 interchange, just outside of Irondale, it was clear that something had happened up ahead. Traffic was at a standstill. It was now 1;30 p.m. My family texted me, as cell service was down due to jammed circuits. I was glad that I had bought gas on the way home the night before. I was going to need it.
I watched as 18 wheelers slipped and caught, rocking the trailers from side to side.
It took over an hour to make the otherwise short drive toward the Leeds exit.
As I approached the Leeds exit, I could see the traffic snarl below the Bass Pro Shop. "Goat Hill" looked like a parking lot. A long line of cars waited on the entrance ramp. I watched as several calls made a break along the shoulder of the road, only to be stymied by an empty car further up the way. I was averaging just a few dozen feet, but those were a few dozen feet closer to home.
I texted friends to see what progress they were making. One, a father, was frantically trying to get to his girlfriend and their baby who was stranded on I-20 driving in the opposite direction, She had picked up the baby from her parents and didn't even have a bottle for him. His phone was fading fast and her phone was apparently already dead.
I texted another, who I will call Brown Eyes (because, well, he has brown eyes: the second set I had ever fallen for, the first being JC when I was in first grade) or B/E for short, to see if he had any trouble getting home. He lived in the opposite direction from town. He replied that he had stayed on back roads and though it took a little longer than normal, had made it home in one piece.
I had made it about a mile past the Leeds exit and the traffic was moving less and less. Many had begun abandoning their vehicles and walking along the shoulder of the road. Rescue vehicles had begun driving the wrong way on the opposite side of the interstate and I could see the tops of cars and trucks over the concrete wall as they followed. I was starting to go stir crazy and my heart was starting to race. Earlier I had been able to take my medicine on time, thanks to a unopened bottle of water from the Susan G. Komen walk in October. I had read about the dangers of drinking water that had been left in ones car. I drank only enough to get the pills down for fear of poisoning myself. My chest began to hurt. All I could think was that I was going to have a heart attack and no one would be able to get to me. I would die in my car on the side of I-20. Panicked, I frantically texted friends to talk me down off the ledge.
It was now five o'clock and I suddenly had a more pressing matter to attend to: I had to pee.
I had started discussing it with my mother about an hour before. At the time, I was in the center lane. I explained how I was surrounded by traffic and there was no ideal way to handle the situation. Each time that I'd muster the courage, traffic would move a few feet, so I was afraid of getting caught with my pants down (pardon the pun) when traffic started moving. I didn't really have to go at the time, but knew it would not be long before it was pressing. She called me back with the solution. I just had to make it into the right lane.
As luck would have it, a spot opened up, and I was able to get in the right lane, behind a woman in a black sports car. She was irritating me by letting others into the lane in front of her, so we were not moving. I spent a good ten minutes cursing at the back of her head. It was now dark and the snow was quickly forming ice. I watched as she would inch forward in her front-wheel-drive car, while dragging her back tires like a sled along behind her. I guessed that I was doing that too.
The plan was to open the passenger doors, both front and back, then squat between them. That way I would be shielded She suggested that I take off my vintage wool dress coat to do the deed. I wriggled free of it and threw it into the back seat, where I also put my purse and the reusable shopping bag, that I lovingly refer to as "my briefcase," so as not to knock them out of the car. I gathered two or three napkins I had found in the console and put them in the seat. I crawled over into the passenger seat, looking back out the front window to insure that traffic wasn't moving. I reached back and opened the back passenger door. When I opened the front passenger door, a gust of wind carried my napkins off into the night. But worse than all that, the interior light came on.
As if peeing on the side of the road was not bad enough, now I was going to do it under a spot light.
I bent over at the waist and unbuttoned my pants, squatting and pulling them down at the same time to avoid a show. The air was cold and the momentary blast on my bare backside, made getting things started nearly impossible. I thought that I heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow. Great, now I had looky loos coming up behind me. The ice on the side of the road was slick and my high-heeled boots had begun to slide. My feet were steadily sliding further and further apart. I already had a cramp in my right butt cheek from standing on the brake for so long. I was trying to relax and "let it flow." I frantically fished around in the floorboard for more napkins, managing to only come up with one. My sliding feet were now putting my boots and pants in the way. I squeezed my thighs together to try and bring my feet in, all the while bracing my abs to keep myself upright. THIS was much more of a workout than I bargained for!
It took forever! I had always been able to do my business really quickly, but this moment of torture seemed to go on forever. Across from me, I could see two drivers of 18 wheelers, standing between their rigs talking. Both were facing me. Just on the other side of my car, I could see the white van, carrying a family of four. I could see the mother in the front seat point my direction. It didn't matter. What are the odds I will ever see these people again? When I was done I dabbed with the napkin and dropped it, trying to pull my pants up with the same motion that I had taken them down with. I closed the back door. I could see the shadow of the woman behind me trying to crane her neck to see what I had been up to. I mouthed the words "making yellow snow" at her and crawled back into the car.
With that over, I was able to calm down and relax. Traffic had not moved in several minutes. I decide to try a call to B/E. After getting the "all circuits are busy" for most of the day, I was relieved to hear him answer.
Have you ever had an old friend that you could call for whatever reason, no matter how much time had passed, and they instantly made you feel better? B/E had always had a calming effect on me. We had always been better friends that girlfriend/boyfriend, and though we did date, we parted amicably. We had been in touch, on and off over the years, the Lord sending him into my life as the voice of reason at just the right times. Though I hadn't spoken with him since my last divorce nearly twenty years ago, the first time we spoke two weeks ago,we talked like we had just spoken the day before.
We talked about the weather, how I was still in nearly the same spot as I was when I texted earlier, how I had suffered the ultimate indignity and peed on the side of the road in front of hundreds of strangers. He cackled. "You didn't have a cup or a bottle in the car?" Well, as a matter of fact, yes I had a bottle, but I was not exactly equipped to pee in a bottle. Really, that is the only time that ever wish I had been born male. We discussed the options of using the bottle versus what I had done (another perk of talking with old friends is that they tell you like it is). I can honestly say if this ever happens again, I won't have a problem jumping out of the car to handle business. Sounds a lot neater.
I never thought about the fact that I didn't have a way to wash my hands until just now, but now think that was a good thing. My "Lady Macbeth Syndrome" would have kicked over in high gear. The last thing I needed was to have hives too.
He's given me great insight over the past few days on my present situation and D/H, having survived a similar situation himself. I told him how I was mad with D/H, simply because he could drive on ice and snow and had he been faithful to his vows "to love, honor and cherish, holding only unto me, as long as we both should live," that we would at least be facing this ordeal together. He listened, and told me that he knew how I felt, but I would get through this. Each challenge I faced by myself and accomplished, would make me stronger.
We talked for a while, interrupted occasionally by a family member calling to gauge my progress. Droves of people walked past me. Where I was sitting, I could see a spot on the side of the road but was not quite to it. I told him about the 18 wheelers, spinning tires but making no headway. Of the chick in front of me, dragging her tires along ("you are probably doing the same thing" he had quipped) of the rear-wheeled drive compact car just ahead of me, spinning and sliding all over the road, and the Mustang ahead of that car that did the same. I told him I was rethinking buying another one after seeing that.
A call came in from a number that I didn't recognize, so I had him hold on for a bit to click over. It was my daughter's aunt T/L. "Hey, are you still up on the interstate?" I told her that I was and apprised her of my current location. "You are not far from us. Do you think that you could walk?" I wasn't sure at that point. I had on high heeled boots, I was wearing dress clothes. I did have a wool coat and gloves, but no hat. "I'm not at that point right now, but if I decide to ditch, I will call you back so you can look for me."
I went back to my conversation with B/E without cutting him off. I was finally learning how to use this stupid new phone. I told him of T/L's offer but how that would only be a last resort. It was after 9am and I needed to call my boss. If I was going to be out here much longer, I wasn't going to be worth anything at work the next day, where we were on a delayed opening of 10am.
We said our goodbyes and I called my boss. I told her how I was now approaching seven hours of sitting still on I-20 East with no end in sight. She was telling me of handling in coming calls and that my coworker, who also lived in my town, had made it home, despite leaving after me. I did not know how she did it without getting on the interstate somewhere or traversing a treacherous hilly road. About that time, a man knocked on my window. I asked her to hold on and rolled my window down. The man was offering me water. Another man walked up with a back of snack crackers.
"Are you sure you don't want the water?" the first man asked. "It's gonna be a long night" holding out the bottle to me. Hearing this my boss responded, "Oh my God"
"What? What do you mean?" I asked. "We've been moving a few feet within every hour" "Well that has stopped now that they've closed the interstate. The drivers ahead of all this, " he said waving his hand ahead of him, " are stopped for the night. No one is going anywhere." My boss repeated her comment, "OH MY GOD" I thanked them and rolled the window back up. "I guess you heard that" I said remorsefully. "What are you going to do?" she responded. "I have an offer from T/L to walk down and stay with them. They are only another mile or so down the road. I could walk that"
We said our goodbyes as well. I had finally made it up to the open space on the side of the road. I put the car in reverse and backed up just enough to clear the black sports car. It took some maneuvering but I managed to get into the spot, just big enough for my car, and leave room on either side to get out when I came back. I called T/L and told her to turn on the pool lights, visible from the interstate, get the ladder out to make it over the fence, because I am on my way. I sent a mass text to all that I had been speaking with and told them I was ditching. I explained that I had made this tough call after what the man had told me, I would be there all night, and I was down to a quarter tank of gas. I was going to need that to get home.
I called several folks and told them I was ditching and walking to T/L's. My BFF, Cyn, said her bubby could come retrieve me if he could find me. I later learned that he had driven the wrong way down I-20 West peering over the wall looking for me.
I looked around the car to make sure that I didn't see anything valuable. I put my phone in my purse and zipped it up tight. I made sure I had my gloves on and buttoned my coat. One button was off just enough that it gapped, but otherwise it was warm and toasty. I grabbed my "briefcase" and purse, took a deep breath and opened the door. I put my feet out on the ice, slowly and gingerly putting my weight on them. So far so good. I made sure to lock the doors, that I had my keys, and started out. It was just shy of 10 pm.
T/L told me to stick to the "puffy snow" rather than walking down the road, that would be mostly ice. I had not gone very far before I slipped and fell on the downward sloping shoulder. I walked in heels all the time, I decided stick to space between the road and the "rumble bars" instead. It was much easier to walk on. Abandoned cars littered the road, and were turned every which way. It looked as if a child had left them in the course of play, to answer his mother for dinner. I walked past the last two 18 wheelers and was shocked that there was not another soul on the road, all the way to the exit. I had been just a quarter mile from freedom. It had taken nearly an hour to get that far. The mile marker next to me read 142, which meant I was 2 miles from the exit. The road stretched out before me like a white carpet.
I walked on into the darkness, my positive attitude melting away with each frozen step. The thought that I could fall and hurt myself, or worse, tire out and collapse, kept inching it's way into my mind. The thought that I may die of exposure so close to home began to weigh on me.
Suddenly I heard the buzz of an ATV engine. I turned around to find a utility cart speeding up to me. It stopped next to me. There were two men up front and one sitting cross legged in the back."Where are you headed?" the driver asked. "Just up ahead, almost to the exit" I replied. "Can you take me?" I asked hopefully. "Sure, get in the back" The man in the back jumped out and helped me in. Then off we went. "I'm Paul" he said, offering his hand. "My preacher, the driver, and I decided to come down here to see if anyone needed any help. We found this fella, (the other passenger up front) he's a bad diabetic. He's been without insulin all day. We are taking him to the exit to meet his wife. " We rode on. In the car, this drive was less than 2 minutes. But in this little cart, it seemed to take forever.
The fact that his name had been Paul was not lost on me. The apostle Paul had been known by not only his beliefs but by his actions as well. I never thought to find out the preacher's name, or what church they were from. I was just glad to be moving. I later learned that my mother was desperately praying for the Lord to send help to me. These men were the answer to her prayer.
When we reached the house, I called T/L to let her know we had arrived. She came out on to the deck, her boyfriend followed behind with a ladder. Paul, the preacher and me made our way down the steep hill to the underbrush below. All I had to do was fight my way through the thicket, climb the fence, and I was home free. I had to crawl through the underbrush, snapping off twigs and bending back saplings along the way. "You got this?" Paul had called to me. I could not answer, I was focused on keeping my glasses on my face and the not tearing my coat. "No, little fella, you come here, I need you!" T/L called out to him, But he and the preacher were already struggling back up the hill. "Hey, you come here!" she called out, to no avail. She had wanted to give him $10 for his trouble, to use for gas. But they hopped in the cart and drove away. A guardian angel would not have taken a reward anyway.
Her boyfriend put the ladder over the game fence. This is a four foot wire fence, topped with barbed wire, used to keep game and other critters from making their way out onto the interstate. I climbed the ladder and he helped me down the other side. Finally safe, I hugged T/L. My legs, shaking badly, would not carry me any further. I nearly collapsed with relief. They practically carried me into the house.
T/L sprang into action. She seated me in front of the gas heater. She brought me dry clothes and socks. She brought me a hot bowl of chili. She fixed me a cup of coffee. She showed me the bed I'd be sleeping in. I was never so grateful.
I slept like a rock, waking just before 7:00 am. The loud wail of an 18 wheelers jake-brakes woke me from a sound, dreamless sleep. From the window I could see traffic moving once again. A friend had told us that traffic started moving around 4am.
Around noon, we headed down I-20 West toward Leeds to retrieve my car. On the shoulder, cars made their way backwards up the exit ramp. When we reached the 140 exit, the abandoned cars looked like a scene out of a zombie movie. We made our way down to the entrance ramp and just short of getting back on I20 East, a state trooper blocked the entrance. A salt truck rumbled by.
After about 30 minutes, the rig in front of us started to move and we were on our way. I was less than a mile from my car. As we pulled up behind it, I could see that it had been safe, pulled off the road enough to be out of the line of traffic. I jumped out and fired it up. T/L motioned for me to come on. There was a break in the traffic and I gunned it to make it into the clear lane, I was so excited to be on the road and moving that I almost forgot the road was still dangerous.
As I followed them off the ramp, my first thought was to get gas. I couldn't get the card swiper to work, so I had to go inside, but I was so happy, I didn't care. Coffee was second on my mind. I waiting patiently as the waitress juggled a mountain of tickets, an obvious sign that they had been busy as a 24 hour establishment. The coffee was fabulous. I wonder where they get it (giggle).
When I arrived on my doorstep, it had been 27 hours since my ordeal began. I had faced it on my own, ( after getting good advice from smart people, of course) and triumphed.
Things are looking up
I was saddened to learn that my peaceful and quaint hometown had gained national attention by towing the cars of stranded motorists and charging between $175 and $300 to the owners. Well, you can't win 'em all.
~EnJoy!
http://www.al.com/opinion/index.ssf/2014/01/want_to_know_how_not_to_act_in.html
Sunday, August 10, 2008
I See You in I.C.U.
We have finally made it to Sunday...tomorrow begins a new week. This past week has been very trying for the family. With the start of school looming over us, nationals just 2 weeks away and Darling Hubby's car still not working (despite the $200 part) all of this paled in comparison to what lay ahead.
Wednesday morning, about 2:00a.m. D/H awoke to a nasty bout with "the big D" (and I don't mean Dallas) only to find that it signalled the possible return of our old adversary The Bleeding Ulcer.
He called in sick to work and sent me on my way to work in the one car we are currently sharing. The children had orientation that night and he didn't want us to miss it. The plan was to call the gastro doctor and see what he should do. He promised to have either his brother or our oldest carry him to the emergency room should things worsen. I told my boss what was happening, just in case I had to leave work early. Having not heard from D/H, I assumed that everything was fine.
Why is it that men can hear the plan, agree to the plan, but never execute the plan?
Needless to say, the kids and I sped through orientation (which was completley unnecessary because both had attened the school the previous year and were sufficiently oriented!) and then rushed home to carry D/H to the emergency room. We arrived about 7:30pm.
At 11:00pm it was decided that he could indeed be suffering from another bleeding ulcer, his 3rd, and that he was to be sent to ICU and given blood because his blood count was 26 ( around 40 is normal), a procedure that could have been avoided had he remembered "the plan" and come to the hospital earlier in the day. It was agreed that I would go on to work Thursday, because while he was in ICU, I would only be able to see him for 15 minutes ever 2 hours. I could be more productive ( and less worried) if I were focused on my work. He was taken to M.I.C.U. and the first of 2 units of blood were started.
I came home, arriving about 11:30pm and unable to sleep because darling hubby was not in the house, watched t.v. and played a bit on the internet. I thought about the conversation I'd had with Heath just last Friday, after our company benefits meeting that outlined the insurance changes effective September 1st. When I got in the car that day, I'd joked "If you are going to be sick again, you've got to do it before September 1st" Little did I know he'd take me up on it! I drifted off to sleep just in time for my alarm to wake me just in time for the first day of school.
Traffic the first day of school in our little town is bedlam. There is always a traffic jam and at least one wreck, which happened this time at the end of our street. I made it to work almost 10 minutes late, but still managed to find a parking place in the same zip code as the building.
I sent an email to my boss asking to work through my lunch hour in order to leave early. Most of the day, I had to defend our choice for me to come into work, rather than sitting around the hospital, wasting time and wringing my hands. I was focused on my work which made the time pass quickly and productively. I kept hearing ..."well, if it were me..." and I felt like I would explode. I felt bad enough without everyone trying to make me feel more guilty! But I knew that I was following my husband's request and that we'd made the best choice.
As once mentioned before, one of my aunts has been a nurse for over 40 years (most at the very hospital my husband was in). It is a well known fact among our family that she will NOT visit the hospital unless specifically summoned. I always thought it was because she spent enough time there already, however, after my grandmother had summoned us both specifically to the hospital, she explained to me her reasoning.
"People come to the hospital to be well, not be entertaining" she had said. "They do not need a lot of people hanging around. That is why visiting hours are limited like they are. Patients need to rest. For some reason, people think they need to be at the hospital all the time, but really, unless they have a medical degree, there is nothing they can do for the patient that isn't already being done. They can do more harm than good, getting in the way of the staff and needlessly stressing out the patient. I know what it is like trying to care for a patient and having to deal with the family. When the care team thinks you need to be there, they will tell you to be there."
I had never really given that much thought before, but it made perfect sense. And coming from a seasoned medical professional, I took it as the general attitude of other seasoned medical professionals and my attitude toward hospital visits changed considerably. Many could benefit from this sage advice, including many a hospitalized loved one.
I tried to be light-hearted and joke about why I was not at the hospital, only to be told later that I hurt some people's feelings. WHAT?!?! As if I didn't have enough on me already, I , the wife of the patient, who had enough guilt and stress as it was, had yet one more thing to worry about! How sophomoric! Did anyone ever stop to consider what I was going thru?! I was immediately hot, flushing from my chest to the top of my head. I had a melt-down and had to excuse myself to the ladies room where I leaned against the cool, metal wall of the stall and cried.
I arrived at the hospital that afternoon. D/H was ill from the liquid-only diet and had commented on how many restaruant commercials there seem to be on t.v. He had just finished his 4th unit of blood in an effort to stabalize his counts. We did not get to see the doctor but the nurse told us the endoscopy was clear. An ulcer was located in the same area as the previous two, but it was not bleeding. No other source coudl be found in the upper digestive tract and that a colonoscopy would be performed the next day to check the rest. The Go-lytely arrived soon after. Anyone who has had Go-lytely knows that whomever invented it had a sick sense of humor because you are far from "going litely!" I left D/H to the evening task and again found myself unable to sleep.
It was again agreed that I would go to work on Friday, but it was harder to do given the previous days events. Hardly anyone asked about D/H and that helped me stay focused on what I was doing. I had planned to work through my lunch as before, but soon found myself unable to concentrate and asked to leave at 2pm instead. When I reached the hospital, I found D/H enjoying his first solid meal in 2 days. I settled in to wait for the doctor.
The actual gastro doctor never came, but the doctor in the unit read through D/H's chart and gave us the high points. The colonoscopy was also clear, which meant the only other place to check was the 25 +/- feet of small intestine. There are several options but the most interesting seemed to be the "camera pill." We were to wait for the final word from the GI lab, but in the mean time D/H would be moved to a regular room.
After a visit to Cyn's I arrived home, but was still unable to sleep, despite the the wave of exhaustion that was sweeping over me and a belly full of carbs (Cyn knows a double order of hashbrowns all-the-way is a surefire sleep aid for me) . The thought that they were unable to find the cause that resulted in loosing nearly half his blood volume kept me staring at the ceiling fan for several hours.
Saturday I was unable to function from lack of sleep, but I did manage to get up and head to Nancy's. I had been putting off gown fittings since I missed the first one Wednesday evening. While at Nancy's (where the gown is taking shape quite nicely) D/H called to say he'd been released!
By the time we crossed the threshold here at home, I was out, sleeping soundly for several hours.
We still do not know the cause of the bleeding, but D/H's upcoming doctor appointment should shed some light on that.
Thank you all for your continued prayers.
Meanwhile, it's business as usual.
Wednesday morning, about 2:00a.m. D/H awoke to a nasty bout with "the big D" (and I don't mean Dallas) only to find that it signalled the possible return of our old adversary The Bleeding Ulcer.
He called in sick to work and sent me on my way to work in the one car we are currently sharing. The children had orientation that night and he didn't want us to miss it. The plan was to call the gastro doctor and see what he should do. He promised to have either his brother or our oldest carry him to the emergency room should things worsen. I told my boss what was happening, just in case I had to leave work early. Having not heard from D/H, I assumed that everything was fine.
Why is it that men can hear the plan, agree to the plan, but never execute the plan?
Needless to say, the kids and I sped through orientation (which was completley unnecessary because both had attened the school the previous year and were sufficiently oriented!) and then rushed home to carry D/H to the emergency room. We arrived about 7:30pm.
At 11:00pm it was decided that he could indeed be suffering from another bleeding ulcer, his 3rd, and that he was to be sent to ICU and given blood because his blood count was 26 ( around 40 is normal), a procedure that could have been avoided had he remembered "the plan" and come to the hospital earlier in the day. It was agreed that I would go on to work Thursday, because while he was in ICU, I would only be able to see him for 15 minutes ever 2 hours. I could be more productive ( and less worried) if I were focused on my work. He was taken to M.I.C.U. and the first of 2 units of blood were started.
I came home, arriving about 11:30pm and unable to sleep because darling hubby was not in the house, watched t.v. and played a bit on the internet. I thought about the conversation I'd had with Heath just last Friday, after our company benefits meeting that outlined the insurance changes effective September 1st. When I got in the car that day, I'd joked "If you are going to be sick again, you've got to do it before September 1st" Little did I know he'd take me up on it! I drifted off to sleep just in time for my alarm to wake me just in time for the first day of school.
Traffic the first day of school in our little town is bedlam. There is always a traffic jam and at least one wreck, which happened this time at the end of our street. I made it to work almost 10 minutes late, but still managed to find a parking place in the same zip code as the building.
I sent an email to my boss asking to work through my lunch hour in order to leave early. Most of the day, I had to defend our choice for me to come into work, rather than sitting around the hospital, wasting time and wringing my hands. I was focused on my work which made the time pass quickly and productively. I kept hearing ..."well, if it were me..." and I felt like I would explode. I felt bad enough without everyone trying to make me feel more guilty! But I knew that I was following my husband's request and that we'd made the best choice.
As once mentioned before, one of my aunts has been a nurse for over 40 years (most at the very hospital my husband was in). It is a well known fact among our family that she will NOT visit the hospital unless specifically summoned. I always thought it was because she spent enough time there already, however, after my grandmother had summoned us both specifically to the hospital, she explained to me her reasoning.
"People come to the hospital to be well, not be entertaining" she had said. "They do not need a lot of people hanging around. That is why visiting hours are limited like they are. Patients need to rest. For some reason, people think they need to be at the hospital all the time, but really, unless they have a medical degree, there is nothing they can do for the patient that isn't already being done. They can do more harm than good, getting in the way of the staff and needlessly stressing out the patient. I know what it is like trying to care for a patient and having to deal with the family. When the care team thinks you need to be there, they will tell you to be there."
I had never really given that much thought before, but it made perfect sense. And coming from a seasoned medical professional, I took it as the general attitude of other seasoned medical professionals and my attitude toward hospital visits changed considerably. Many could benefit from this sage advice, including many a hospitalized loved one.
I tried to be light-hearted and joke about why I was not at the hospital, only to be told later that I hurt some people's feelings. WHAT?!?! As if I didn't have enough on me already, I , the wife of the patient, who had enough guilt and stress as it was, had yet one more thing to worry about! How sophomoric! Did anyone ever stop to consider what I was going thru?! I was immediately hot, flushing from my chest to the top of my head. I had a melt-down and had to excuse myself to the ladies room where I leaned against the cool, metal wall of the stall and cried.
I arrived at the hospital that afternoon. D/H was ill from the liquid-only diet and had commented on how many restaruant commercials there seem to be on t.v. He had just finished his 4th unit of blood in an effort to stabalize his counts. We did not get to see the doctor but the nurse told us the endoscopy was clear. An ulcer was located in the same area as the previous two, but it was not bleeding. No other source coudl be found in the upper digestive tract and that a colonoscopy would be performed the next day to check the rest. The Go-lytely arrived soon after. Anyone who has had Go-lytely knows that whomever invented it had a sick sense of humor because you are far from "going litely!" I left D/H to the evening task and again found myself unable to sleep.
It was again agreed that I would go to work on Friday, but it was harder to do given the previous days events. Hardly anyone asked about D/H and that helped me stay focused on what I was doing. I had planned to work through my lunch as before, but soon found myself unable to concentrate and asked to leave at 2pm instead. When I reached the hospital, I found D/H enjoying his first solid meal in 2 days. I settled in to wait for the doctor.
The actual gastro doctor never came, but the doctor in the unit read through D/H's chart and gave us the high points. The colonoscopy was also clear, which meant the only other place to check was the 25 +/- feet of small intestine. There are several options but the most interesting seemed to be the "camera pill." We were to wait for the final word from the GI lab, but in the mean time D/H would be moved to a regular room.
After a visit to Cyn's I arrived home, but was still unable to sleep, despite the the wave of exhaustion that was sweeping over me and a belly full of carbs (Cyn knows a double order of hashbrowns all-the-way is a surefire sleep aid for me) . The thought that they were unable to find the cause that resulted in loosing nearly half his blood volume kept me staring at the ceiling fan for several hours.
Saturday I was unable to function from lack of sleep, but I did manage to get up and head to Nancy's. I had been putting off gown fittings since I missed the first one Wednesday evening. While at Nancy's (where the gown is taking shape quite nicely) D/H called to say he'd been released!
By the time we crossed the threshold here at home, I was out, sleeping soundly for several hours.
We still do not know the cause of the bleeding, but D/H's upcoming doctor appointment should shed some light on that.
Thank you all for your continued prayers.
Meanwhile, it's business as usual.
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