Lost buddy protocol - FAIL

Well, 2nd ever salt water dive and my biggest diving fear happened.  Lost the child. Water was murky, we were with another diver, they were taking pictures, I was watching them.  I had one on each side of me, him just barely in sight, went slightly past the little girl, in the direction we were heading - looked at a fish, and - GONE!
Apparently, she saw him heading the other way, and followed, thinking we would lose him, and did not grab me, thinking I saw it also. I did not panic.  She is a strong swimmer, we know where the boat is, small dive group, responsible captain and crew, buoy markers all along the reef, sort of an enclosed circle, so she is not going to be lost at sea. I swam in a little circle, to see if I could catch site of them, then went up to the surface to try and see them.

OK - protocol is to regroup on the surface - but on this particular dive, the surface was full of moon Jellies - so I went back down (fail).  This is apparently when they came up.  I came back up, got the attention of the people on the boat - and they pointed in the direction that they saw my buddies, I headed out toward them (underwater, to avoid Jellies - again - FAIL). I realized that I was swimming away from the boat, with the current, and I was going to have a very difficult swim back, and I was down more than 2/3rds on air. (Triple Fail)

By the time I got back to the boat (exhausted) they were also heading in - less than 5 minutes behind me.  I'm such a loser dive buddy. The little girl did get to see a nurse shark.

The 2nd dive was just the two of us, and it was awesome - visibility was better, she was just as careful about keeping me in sight as I am with her, and we popped up near the boat and rode the current toward it.  SPOTTED EAGLE RAY.  Huge, breathtakingling beautiful, a giant underwater butterfly floating by. A couple of baracuda, the requisite Christmas Worms, lots of pretty little tropical fishes, cool coral, my favorite dive to date. 

The third dive out we had our experienced buddy with us again. We suggested swimming into the current, and floating back to the boat, taking pics on the way back (duh - it is what we should have done the first time).  This dive, I kept the girl in my sight, she tried to keep him in her sight, and I knew that if we lost anybody it was not going to be each other.  I think triple buddy teams only work well if EVERYONE is committed to keeping the group together, visibility was poor again, but I learned the trick of looking for bubbles floating up, it was the only way that we were able to keep track of our third buddy. When it came time to head back toward the boat, our buddy took charge of navigation, and we over shot by several hundred yards.  Another brutal surface swim against the current. Oh - another SPOTTED EAGLE RAY!  If I don't see an octopus soon, I may revert to rays as my favorite sea creature, at least they are accessible. 

Did I mention that I started the day stomach sick and throwing up? even before we got to the boat? under the surface was the only place I felt good all day. 3 hard swimming dives on 1/2 a piece of toast - not good.  When we got back I could only manage a little soup.  The very concerned girl child tried to talk me out of diving, but the Groupon was paid for, and going to expire before we got back down there - so dive we did!

The rest of the week consisted of time in Key West including the butterfly gardens and a creepy guided ghost tour. We met Robert the Doll, you can "like" him on FaceBook.  Every trip to the keys includes a stop at Schnelby's winery, to get wines that we share with our lovely host, Ginger, over dinner. Ginger is an amazing person, great friend, and over achieving work-a-holic, so cooking her dinner is about the only way I actually get to see her when we are down.  This year Schnelby's is adding beers to their tastings, and some are really good - looking forward to finding some in local restaurants. We spent a very cool breezy day at Bahai Honda state park flying kites and hanging out.  Really do not want to go back to work tomorrow. :-(

       

Holiday HoopLah

I had every intention of blogging regularly.  But, no.  Busy may be an excuse.  Or lazy.  I'm going with busy.  I am right now on Day 2 of 7 days off.  Woohoo.  And I am already bored.  Tomorrow we get all the kids, and we are taking them to Busch Gardens.  

The boy is 21.  Holy crap! We took him out for beers and pizza.  He likes good beer, thank God, we told him that we would buy him beer, but only if he chose quality.  Good boy! and, he picked a nice feta/spinach/roasted garlic pizza.  He spent NYE swing dancing!  When did he get cultured and fun?  Makes us proud.  Chicago is good for him, but we do miss him.

The sorta daughter is moving to Chicago next week.  She has been visiting family all month, so we have not seen her for Christmas - she will be at BG with us tomorrow.  I can't wait.  I am really going to miss her when she's gone.  She is really the only sister my Darling Girl has ever had.  She has tons of brothers, half brothers, step brothers and pseudo brothers, but just one sis.  14 is not the best age to have your only sister move across the country. This means I am probably going to be forced to let her go to Chicago and hang out with her big bro and sis this summer.  Hard to be a helicopter mom when the munchkin is that far away.

After BG, the Darling Girl and I leave for the keys.  We have a dive trip scheduled on Wednesday - hopefully the seas will be calm.  I really need to get back in the water before I forget what I'm supposed to do.  

Pebbles came through her surgery spleenless but happy.  Almost back to being the same bright, tail wagging, always in the way, annoying fuzz bucket she had been before.  I little more of a lump dog than she used to be.  She did walk with me every day this week, so we are on the way to a full recovery.

 

There's no place like home

Tampa has banished pan handling.  This is not unusual, most cities and counties in Florida have gone this route.  It is unsightly, and dangerous, and make almost everyone uncomfortable.  When the ban happened I heard an immediate sigh drift across the city.  "We" suddenly do not have to be bothered by "them." My daughter and I are concerned about some of the homeless that we have come to expect on certain corners.  I'm kind of opposed to giving money - and I don't regularly carry cash.  But, I almost always carry an extra sandwich that I give to someone, and I buy bottle water from the ones that attempt to be productive, and not outright begging.  And, yes - I am admitting to being judgey, and trying to justify it by being less judgey than others, and even admitting a mild discomfort and curiosity about these people that I used to see every day.  

I am nearly positive that it is part of Tampa's overall beautification program while we gear up for the Republican National Convention this August.  Pretty roads, effective signage, street sweepers (really - I've seen them), and of course all of those nasty homeless off the streets.  I don't predict a serious crack down on the Occupiers (yes, they are still at it, a handful of very dedicated protesters) until July.  I think the city/state officials are just hoping they will get bored and go away.

Who are these homeless, anyway?  Why can't they just find a job? Why are there so many?   Things I worry about are - if they aren't pan-handling - where are they getting money? or food? The shelters and charitable organizations are struggling for donations, more mouths to feed, less funds to do it with.  They no longer have the humiliating option of looking me in the eye and saying "please." It only lessens my discomfort while I say "no."  Jail may be good for a square meal - maybe - they will drag a homeless person down and book them, but I doubt if we have the space to really hold them all. We certainly are not going to care for them until they get back on their feet.  

Please don't toss out the "it's what they choose" line to justify the fact that we don't care.  Yes, they may have chosen to leave an abusive situation, or been tossed out by families that cannot survive another day of living with alcoholism, addiction, or mental illness, but these are "choices" made in extreme circumstances. I hope to never be in a situation where this choice is even on the table.  Forty percent of Florida's homeless are families. Whole families.  Husband, Wife, Children.  Or just mom and kids.  Or dad and kids.  Choices get made, and statistics show that people that are homeless because of job loss and evictions tend to be very short term.  People that have bootstraps to pull will pull them.  We are Americans - we are a tough lot.  But -  combine abuse, mental illness, addiction, illness, old age, or youth with a really bad situation and things may quickly spiral out of control. 

Florida is notorious for its population of homeless veterans. Nationwide veterans account for 50% of the homeless population.  28% of those live in Florida, California and Texas.  Only 11% of all vets live in these states. There are more homeless Vietnam era vets than there were casualties during the entire Vietnam conflict. 

Statistics are shifty.  The homeless are counted only where they can be found.  If you are in a hospital, or prison, or facility for treatment of mental disorders, you don't get counted.  You don't get to be a homeless statistic until they let you out with no resources and you end up on the street.  If you are in a rural area, or the wilds, you don't get counted. 

There is a little lady that hangs out on the corner, sitting on a bus bench.  She has been there ever since they passed the no-panhandle ruling.  I never saw her pan handle, so her appearance on the bench was a surprise.  She keeps her belongings neatly folded on the bench below her, or in the pull cart near by.  She sleeps in a carefully made cocoon behind the bench that she folds up around her while she sits.  We bring her hot soup on cold nights.  She is not there today, and neither is any of her stuff. I hope she is OK, and hope wherever she is she gets a comfortable bed and a hot meal or two.  If she does not come back, I hope it is because she found a comfortable place to be, and people to look out for her.

 

A Very Scary Halloween

I love Halloween.  This year, I was a little over it.  Barely put up decorations, only made one batch of Witchy Finger cookies, tried to convince the girl she is too old to Trick-or-Treat.  Really, she does not need to know how old I was when I stopped, or that having her was really part of my secret plan to continue the tradition well into my 40's.  I really wanted to dive this weekend.  We were supposed to join a huge group of perfect strangers diving all weekend, camping and drinking beer - it sounded like heaven to me, and the girl had agreed willingly. 

Alas - she is a teen ager. How could I possibly deprive my daughter of going to her first real Halloween party?  The biggest party of the year?  Yeah, yeah - I'm the mommy, but if we are diving as a fun bonding exercise, and I force her to go when she really wants to do something else - how fun will that be for anyone?  And did I forget how painfully shy I am around strangers? and what a huge social leap I was making by going to this thing in the first place? So the compromise was that she would go to her party, and not complain when I booted her out of bed at 6:00am to do a gulf dive.  Except the dive was cancelled by for rough seas.

Crap! now what?  I really need to dive more - I feel like I am losing basic skills - I feel like I am wasting the big mountain of money in the shed that looks a little like dive equipment.

One of the people we were planning on diving with is also fairly new, although she has 40 something dives in, after only 3 months of certification, and she thought it would be fun to go to one of the springs.  Cool - weather is not a factor, we can do that.

 Dun, dun, Duuuhhhhhn.  Devil's Den - (cue music of impending doom).

Is beautiful - but about 2 1/2 hours away, and we got a late start.  So all geared up - walked down the creepy cavern like stone steps, then onto the creaky, narrow, one person at a time wood steps onto the wet and slightly slimy platform.  We are inside a huge dome, with a hole at the top that lets in ambient light and moss - beautiful.  Tracy does a giant stride into the water (that's a technical term for jumping off a dock with a big step into the water).  The girl starts - but I stop her, and have her check to make sure her air valve is on - it, is of course, I didn't raise an idiot.  So it is my turn - I check my air.  Crap, I do NOT have my air on.  And I cannot reach.  And everyone else is in the water.  But I am resourceful, and flexible, and strong.  So I lay on my back on the slimy little deck, on top of the tank, head an shoulders out over the edge so Tracy can turn the valve on (thanks Tracy).  And I go to sit up.

The tank is longer than my back - and I look a lot like a dying bug.  No worries - I will roll to my side and push up - I teach patients to do this all the time - so I roll.  I am way too close to the steps, I have rolled facing the steps, and now I am stuck between the steps and the tank, and cannot go either way.  At this point I hear my lovely, helpful, sniggering buddies:
"Are you taking pictures?"

"Ohhh - Yeah!"
Thanks, guys - you're the Best!

I only post this picture so you can see how pretty the cavern is, and how cruel it was for them to leave me there.  I finally pushed around and rolled into the water - quite gracefully I may add.

 The next pic is of a sign posted in front of one of the many cave entrances - just so you can see what kind of immanent danger I was actually in. 

 The dive was fun, by the time we had burned through the first tank, we had seen it all about 4 times.  I would have liked to go back in, just to work on skills (oh, yes - I need a lot of that), but the kid was tired and hungry, and started yapping about carving pumpkins.  I was hoping she would forget that tradition, too.  The thing about traditions, they happen every year, and people come to expect them - soooo.  She actually texted the darling husband from the dive site and requested he go pick up pumpkins.  Which, of course, he did.

All in all - it was a good diving day.  We got wet, no one died.  I made at least one personal discovery - I have ZERO interest in cave or cavern diving.  I like to be able to see.  I like pretty fishes and lots of color. On the very bottom of the dive log, there is a question about what you would like to do different on the next dive.  Ummmm, I'm thinking I'll try turning on my air?  maybe before my buddy gets in the water.  sounds like a pretty good plan.  Or maybe I'll take the buddy's camera away until I am all comfy in the water.

These are the pumpkins we carved when we got home.  The Girl even talked me into roasting seeds - she was seven before someone introduced her to that one, I haven't gotten out of it since.

The best thing about the day was that Pebbles had been feeling pretty good all day, and even managed to come outside and sit under the picnic table while we carved.  Good day.

The girl had two friends come home from gym with her to Trick-or-Treat Monday night - they made a haul!. She went as a nerd fairy. I did not realize until we were out on the street that she was wearing her "BASTNERD" shirt.  She got some mixed reactions, at least from the people that actually got it.  Curse that quirky sense of humor whe inherited from
ummm
well - wherever she got it.

Sad Week

This has been a rough week.  Thumper - the 1/2 rabbit in our "2 dog, 1 cat, 1bird, 1 lizard, 1 1/2 rabbit" home - died this week.  The Darling girl had found her in a park, somehow managed to catch her and bring her home.  the answer was of course "NO!" Then the neighbors stepped in.  Their daughter would take care of it - it would just live in the cage with our rabbit (Kandy Kane).  Being the farm girl that I am, I was able to determine that we did, indeed, have two female rabbits, so I relented. After a week of quarantine, Thumper was introduced to Kandy Kane, and they became bosom buddies.  And the girls did well, splitting the time for feeding and watering, covering for each other when one forgot, etc. Everyone was content.

Then the bunnies got loose.

It happens, sometime it take a day or two to catch Kandy, but she is very sweet and loves us, and is only a little skittish. Thumper?  mass herding efforts with the neighborhood, help from guest, alerts from random strangers.  all to no avail.  Wily little thing.  We would converge upon her, obviously trapped in a corner between the house and a fence, no chance of failure.  But she could sense the weakest link, and bolt directly toward the person most likely to freak out rather than grab her.

All of that was two years ago.  She has been living under our house ever since.  Once she became comfortable with the fact that we were not going to catch her, she grew quite friendly, even letting us pet her when we brought her food and water.  The best thing was the odd, progressive relationship she had with the cat.  At first, Ashe was curious, and maybe a little annoyed.  Then we would find the two engaged in parallel play like toddlers, playing their own version of the same game, watching each other stealthily.  They would take naps in the yard, 3-4 feet away from one another, contentedly sleeping under the same tree.  I came home one day to find Ashe under a neighbor's bench, crouched low, tail twitching.  My heart sank when I realized the object of prey was Thumper.  Ashe ran out, jumped on Thumper's back, they both jumped in the air, and ran off in different directions.  Thumper double backed and chased Ashe under the bench.  Ashe resumed "stalking" pose.  Thumper went back to casually ignoring him.  Apparently this game was repeated over and over until one or both got tired.

Last weekend the Darling Man came in to tell me something was wrong with Thumper, she made no attempts to get away when she was approached.  I picked her up and she sort of sunk into my hands.  She had a small puncture wound (Cat? Raccoon?) at the base of her ear.  Hot, swollen, painful.  Ear drooping, eye closed, unable to really hold her head up.  Obviously infected.  Rabbit skulls are thin and fragile, it is possible that the wound pierced the skull, and the brain was also infected.  She seemed to really appreciate the warm compress, lying her head in my hand, and searching for it when I pulled away.  We did get some water down her, and I think she was resting comfortably.  She did not make it through the night.

The upside of all of this is that no one expected her to last a week outside on her own.  She loved being outdoors, and found a happy, reasonably safe place to live.  How many other rabbits live in a cat protected yard?  My best guess is that she got out of Ashe's circle of influence and was attacked by another cat.  Ashe would not actively defend the rabbit, but he does not allow other cats in his yard.

The other horrible sad thing in our house is Pebbles.  She has been having a very hard time getting up and down, has not walked with us in over a week.  We really thought she had thrown her back out or it was arthritis, but she did not seem to really be in pain, was eating very well, and was happy.  Her vet was on vacation for a week, and we kept thinking "oh, she's a getting little better."  But she's not.  She has a large mass in her abdomen.  We now have to look into the crystal ball and decide if surgery will fix her and give her a few more years of comfy, happy dog life (a 50% chance) or if we are willing to let them open her up, and put her down if the cancer is inoperable or spreading.  I don't think I could bear the thought of her dying in an operating room without us.  Looking at the x-ray, I think the vet was being optimistic at 50% chance.  Have not heard back from the surgeon yet.  In the mean time, she can still get up to go potty (with a lot of encouragement), is eating like a horse (because she is feeding a massive tumor) and seems very content to have all of us lie next to her and pet her like she does for us when we don't feel well.

So, we wait.  Hopefully we will get a consult with the surgeon next week, and she will not decline in the mean time.

Good Mom/Bad Mom

They say hindsight is 20/20.  In order to clearly see your past, you have to actively look at it.  Deconstruction of your past actions can be a process of true growth, or it can be the worst form of self-indulgent narcissism.  I'm constantly looking back.  "Damn, I could have done that better." or "That is something I'll be fixing in the future." or, "Crap, who's in charge of damage control?"  Sometimes I give myself premature (or timely), undeserved (or honestly earned), pats on the back.  Right now I am swinging on my back porch, beer in hand watching the fire reduce itself to embers - all because the Girl child and company want to roast hot dogs and make s'mores.  I am at a good spot in life when drinking beer alone in front of a fire makes me feel like a Good Mom.

I had a couple of "bad Mommy" moments earlier this week.  The Darling Girl has inherited the unfortunate habit of self-analysis, I'm not always the best sounding board.  Sometimes she is looking for an honest opinion about action or behaviour, and sometimes she wants to know that she is loved unconditionally, that she should never change.  She is a teen ager.  Sometimes I forget that.  Even when I remember, it does not mean I will understand the things any better. Conversations are not the equal give and take of active minds that they once were.  They are not the sharing of advice to enrich her future.  They are freakin' psychological mine fields, and I do not have a map.  I usually know that I went the wrong way when she clams up and gets a little teary.  She invented "I'm fine."  My go to attitude is more: "what-ev-er."  These are not compatible phrase patterns. There are often hurt feelings and shocked confusion hanging about the room, left over after the most seemingly mundane conversations.

I try to remember how my parents coped.  Then I remember.  They drank. A lot.  I'm pretty sure that is not an option for me.  This beer is pretty darn good, though - it is something to ponder.  

New Horizons

When we were children, clouds became animals.
Now that we are adults, the vast, blue sky is a metaphor for the infinite, upward potential of the human spirit.
    - Laura Teresa Marquez

I often say that I am a mediocre (at best) home health therapist.  
This is true.  I love my work, enjoy my patients, I put every bit of education, compassion and caring that I have at my disposal into each treatment.  I feel that this is the kind of care that should always be demanded of your professionals - it is not a standard of care, it is minimal care. I have zero desire to elevate my knowledge base - this is what sets apart the average, run of the mill therapist that has a good job, and a passionate professional, a "top-tier" therapist.    

And then I run off and spend 9 days away from my family learning an in depth specialized area of care that allows me to help a whole underserved population of people, increases my level of expertise, and my knowledge base, and makes me a more marketable professional.
Damn! I was so content going through each day spinning my wheels, acting like a new-grad.  But I love this - and I feel like it will be hugely valuable to my patients, enhance the efficiency of our wound care (like an assist for the nurses), and it is a hands-on type of care that does not kill my old arthritic hands. So now it is rushing around trying to set up a program.  I am inservicing the nurses, trying to figure out suppliers, setting appointments to work with marketing people to let the Docs know we have a program, networking with people all over, and realizing that I may have found a home in home-health.  I may actually get good at this.  I may still be a mediocre home-health therapist, but I plan to be a kick-ass Certified Lymphedema Therapist.

And yeah - I am very tired!  going to be a long week.