Poor Joel

If you were to spend any length of time with my family, at some point someone would made the comment "Poor Joel".  It has become a family joke.  And yes, it has to do with my husband, Joel.  

Here's the scoop...

Several years ago my grandma Cowell was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.  She happened to live in a nursing home in West Des Moines, which made it easier for her family (us) to visit her.  My grandma Cowell was a wonderful, fun lady.  I always stayed at her house for one week every summer.  It was a time for just grandma and me.  Seeing her reduced to a dying woman who couldn't even remember her own name was heartbreaking.  Needless to say, it was hard to visit her.  One day my whole family went to say "HI!".  Nothing like being bombarded with a group of smiling giants when you don't know who or where you are!  

By this time grandma was bedridden.  We all filed into her room and formed a semi-circle around her bed.  Then, with smiles plastered on our faces, we willed grandma to remember who we were.  Sadly, she did not.  My mom went around the circle saying our names and how we were related to her, hoping for a response from grandma.  Here was Larry, grandma's son (and my dad).  Nothing.  Next was Salli, Larry's daughter (my sister).  Still nothing.  Then Aaron, Salli's husband.  Nada.  Down the line we went.  Finally it was my turn.  My mom "introduced" me and I smiled at grandma.  Nope, no recognition.  Then Joel was introduced as my husband.  An amazing thing happened.  Grandma's eyes lit up like she had just seen an angel! And here's how the conversation went down...

Mom:  "Do you know who this is?"

Grandma: "Oh yes!  It's Joel!"

Mom (said with glee):  "Yes, it's Joel.  He's Sara's husband."

Grandma (with a concerned look):  "Joel.  Poor Joel"

Mom:  "uh...."

Grandma Cowell didn't live much longer.  But she will remembered forever for many reasons; one of which is that, in a moment of clarity, she remembered Joel...and felt bad for him. 

A crack in the bone

I've been doing quite well with the running this spring.  I was faithful at getting outside and running a few miles 4-5 times per week.  Some days I only went 2 miles, others I ran longer.  And then I'd also go to the Y for strength training and other classes.  I was starting to feel my ab muscles come out of the fridge!  Yea for me!

So then a few weeks ago I decided to run pretty late at night.  I hate running after eating but I really felt like I needed to.  So off I went.  I figured if I started to feel sick, I'd just walk.  No big.  I pushed myself and ran 2 miles, even feeling a little 'off'.  The next morning was a Monday, my day off.  I got up, got the kids ready, and went off to the Y like normal.  I noticed that my right foot hurt a little but figured it was fine, maybe a strained muscle or something.  Later that day I happened to have a doctor's appointment.  By then I had changed out of my tennis shoes and into flip flops.  As I glanced down at my foot, I realized my right foot was super swollen.  Oh crap.  

Off the doctor I went and mentioned that my foot was enormous a tad swollen.  She pushed on a few spots and I almost jumped off the chair.  Not good.  So she sent me for an x-ray.  Working in radiology gets me some perks.  I had the x-ray then walked into the reading room and made the radiologist look at it right away.  The x-ray was normal.  No broken bones.  Then he told me stress fractures don't show up on x-rays right away.  They take a few weeks to show up.  Well, that's just dumb.  I figured I'd wait a few weeks and see how my foot responded to Aleve.  It didn't.  It was still super swollen and painful.  So painful that I had to be put on Vicodin just to get through the day. My doctor felt that seeing a foot surgeon was a good idea.  

So off the foot surgeon I went.  I really thought he's push on my foot and say it was a tendon or muscle issue, get some physical therapy and time.  I was prepared for that.  What I was NOT prepared for was for him to push on a few spots on my foot and announce that I have a stress fracture in 2 places.  As if that wasn't bad enough, I get the pleasure of wearing a boot for the next 6 weeks.  Oh, and no exercising whatsoever.  Shut. The. Front. Door.  I asked him what he meant by "no exercising".  He literally means NOTHING.  No elliptical, no running (well duh), no biking, no classes.  So what can I do?  I can ride a stationery bike at a slow pace or walk slowly.  Are you kidding me?  And the 2 races I'm signed up to do in a few weeks.  Nope.  Not so much.  Oh, and I'm not supposed to drive either.  Joel's response to that?  He's not driving me around like Miss Daisy.  :)  I've gotten around that by taking off the boot to drive.  

The only good thing about the boot?  At least it's not a cast.  :)

Some days...

• I want to strangle my dog for pooping in the house.
• I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs.
• I want to go somewhere by myself and just listen to nature.
• I want to tell my kids that whining/complaining/being fussy is going to put mommy in an early grave.
• I want to strangle my husband for various reasons.
• I want ask all my patients that show up late for their appointment what was so important that they needed to waste my time.
• I want to ask the Title XIX patients how they can afford a better phone/purse/clothes than me.
• I want to clean my entire house from top to bottom then take pictures for memories' sake.
• I want to hug my kids the entire day.
• I want to eat an entire pizza and big vat of ice cream without gaining an ounce.
• I want to spend time with my best friend, and only my best friend.

I have many good days, some bad days, and a few really bad days.  No matter what happens, I love that I have a family who loves me, friends who like me, and a dog who tolerates me.  Life is good :)