I fell and I couldn't get up - Another entry in the "Learn from My Mistakes" series

She fell but she had LifeAlert, so she could get up.

After a great and very busy week in one of my favorite places, Mexico City, I was looking forward to a relaxing night at home with the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML this past Friday. I'd been home about two hours when I realized I needed to get something out of my work bag, which was down in my basement office. As I started down our steep wooden, carpet-free stairs, I gave nary a thought to the fact that I was wearing a pair of socks that are all kinds of slippery. This was, with apologies to the great Ron Burgundy, "a bad choice."

As I hit the third to the last step, both feet flew out from under me with a force not seen since Kris Kardashian abandoned all her morals as a parent and sold out her children and I sailed over the last three steps and slammed onto the floor with my back taking the full brunt of the impact. Mercifully, I didn't hit my head and with my lungs struggling to recover from the wind that was knocked out of them, I managed to scream out a stream of mild profanities as the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML came charging down the stairs to see if I was dead. Dead I was not, but pain I was in. I lay on the floor writhing for about 15 minutes before I managed to get up. Once up, every step sent daggers of pain up and down my back, so I decided to make my way upstairs and crawl into bed.

Once in bed, everything hurt. Pain was radiating all over the place. Every movement was a heaping slice of agony. I took a couple of Aleve, which alleviated nothing. A heating pad, even at its lowest setting served only as an invitation to burns on my back. At this point, it was time to throw in the pain towel and try to sleep. Sleep was furtive (my Fitbit showed I was restless 28 times through the night) and at around 530AM, after hearing me cry out in pain yet again, my wife decided it was time to go an urgent care facility. Getting out of bed was an act of contortion that any circus freak would have been proud of. As I finally stood, it was clear I was going to need a spotter. After a couple of steps, my legs gave out and I was down on the floor, now literally unable to move. Like the elderly stars of the LifeAlert commercials, I was not getting up but I had no monitor to push to get someone to get me up. As SML pondered our limited options, she decided it was time to call 911. She called them, explained our dilemma and asked them to not roll up with sirens and lights blaring. Because who needs that drama at 6AM on a Saturday.

In our little town, 911 calls are pretty exciting because we had two policemen in our home before the paramedics arrived. They were an interesting lot, these two. One took the role of determining if I had been drinking, thus causing the fall. He didn't seem to believe my slippery sock story. The other quizzed SML to determine if she had pushed me. Seriously. They were delightful, in the same way Donald J. Trump is delightful.

The paramedics, on the other hand, were great. I was so embarrassed by the position that I was in, both literally and figuratively, and they could not have been cooler. Because of the narrowness of our hallways, a gurney wasn't an option to get me out of the house, so they went with a stair chair. Once they determined they could move me without exacerbating my injury, it took the two paramedics and SML to get me up. I'll admit I hollered like an angry stuck pig as they got me into that chair. They got me downstairs pretty fast and into a gurney. As they got me into the back of their "rig," the paramedic who was driving was excited to tell me that this was the newest rig in the fleet. As far as paramedic rigs go and given my vast (none) knowledge of them, I will tell you I was impressed. As we drove to John Dempsey Hospital (my choice Cantonites - I like that hospital), the attending paramedic took my blood pressure multiple times as it was skyrocketing as they moved me and he was glad to see it lowering.

Once we got to the ER, we were turned over to the hospital staff and shenanigans began. A nurse came in and asked me to put on one of those breezy, flappy hospital gowns. This meant two things for me A) sitting up and 2) taking my fleece over my head and those were two things I was in no condition to do. I told her in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't be doing that. She said, "Oh you're the back guy. It's OK." Darn right it was OK. The ER attending physician came in and said I'd be going to X-ray shortly and then a nurse breezed in with Percocet and a muscle relaxant. Unfortunately for me and the X-ray tech, they took me to X-ray before either pill had kicked in. Going from the gurney to the X-ray table was an exercise in controlled rage. Then when the poor X-ray tech told me I had to roll over onto my left side, to say that I was displeased would be the understatement of the year. Mercifully, she was able to get it done very quickly. I was wiped out at that point and the Percocet was kicking in, so once back in the ER, I was in and out sleep. The doctor returned and told us that the X-rays didn't show a break and that I was, and this is my interpretation because he kept talking about my injury in words that sounded like names of superheroes (lots of words like echo, exo, and skelton), pretty banged up internally and that I was lucky that it wasn't far. At this point, I felt like a total spastic that I had to have the paramedics get me out of my house. He assured me it was a valid injury and that the muscle spasms I was having, and going to have, were heaping piles o'agony. Tell me about it...

So what have we learned from all this:

• Wearing hospital socks with the grips on the bottom is now a requirement in the house
• Carpet runners for the stairs will happen and soon
• Percocet takes far too long to kick in and pales in comparison to the glory of Dilaudid
• It is stupid to wait hours to get yourself checked after you've hurt yourself

Yep, that's me in the back of the Canton rig

Hospital Thug Uniform 

Learn from my mistakes people, learn from my mistakes.

Another Lesson from 'Learn From My Mistakes'

"May I suggest Lava the next time?"

This blog is many things. It is a history of me and my family, whether they like it or not. It is a showcase of my rants and raves. It is a view, albeit an unsettling one at times, into what makes me tick. It is in many ways a train wreck and not doing any one any favors. There are times, though, when it does some good. Dotted throughout the blog are posts where I have learned life's lessons the mostly hard mortifying way. On more than one occasion, I have cautioned you, the good denizens of the Den, to learn from my mistakes. Today is another of those posts wherein I will beg / caution you to do exactly that.

It all began innocently enough today because it went down at Church. We had just taken our seats in another pew, different from our regular one, which may have thrown me off just a little (thanks for snatching our pew, Logan). Services hadn't started yet when my Ted Cruz fangirl and Mistress of All Things Fox News frenemy (friend, really I promise!!) came up to talk to the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML. After resolving a critical issue about flowers, she turned to me to ask if I'd seen her post to me about an International Food Truck Festival.

If you've spent anytime here in the Den, you know I love me food something fierce. You also know that it's all the better when it comes off a food truck. So the mere mention of food trucks is going to provoke a reaction (think 'Trump fans reacting to a Muslim attending one of their rallies' reaction) in me. It did not matter that we were sitting in church, I reacted. The last time we attended a food truck rally here in the 'Stan, it was cataclysmically disappointing. So with my desire to protect the integrity of real food trucks engaged, I launched into a screed about the food truck scene here in the 'Stan.

Me: "OK the International Food Truck Festival? We've done it. Taco Bell is more international and less risky. The International Food Truck Festival! The International Food _uck Festival..."

Yes, right there in church, it happened. I dropped the bomb. The "F" bomb. As soon as I said it, I felt a heat flash through, akin to the power of a thousand suns, and I looked at my friend. There was a look of abject horror, followed by laughter as I bolted from the pew. I had to get out of there, if for nothing else to get a drink of water to cool the burning of mortification cranked up to 11.

Now, for once I was using my quiet voice, so only the two of us heard it. So there's that. But you try repeating "International Food Truck Festival" a few times fast and see what comes up. I don't think it's going end well for you either.

So what have we learned today, people?
It's not a good idea to put the words food, truck, and festival together.
It's a really bad idea to get me amped up about the sanctity of food trucks in church.
As we saw today, it's just not going to end well.

I'm off to enjoy the taste treat that is a bar of Lava now to atone.

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times...learn from my mistakes.

A Milestone (of sorts)

His new shoes. Apparently the Salt Lake
branch of 'Gangsters R'Us' was having
a close-out sale.

Shoes are a big deal when you're a missionary. You're on your feet a stupid number of hours each day. Your shoes need to be comfortable. They need to be able to withstand whatever climate you find yourself in. It would be nice too if they'd last more than a couple of months. If you can keep a pair of shoes more than a year, you are some kind of superhero in missiondom. TMFKATB had a couple of pair of shoes that did yeoman's duty while he was in Mexico and faced the jungle rot like champs. Now that he's behind the Zion Curtain, he has upped his shoe game apparently. I'm guessing this based on the shoes he bought today, representing a two-tone milestone of sorts. He's worn out another pair of shoes (now that's a milestone) but channeled a 1940's Zoot Suit wearer when he bought his new ones. He included a picture of them in today's letter.

His letter was a good one, albeit brief. He's learned very quickly that being a part of mission leadership takes busy to 11. He's in meetings, leading trainings, and managing the mundane, like bike deliveries to various sundry missionaries. He's learning, even in his first week, that his actions speak far louder than his words and he's trying to lead by being a doer. He's also thrilled to be working with a diverse group of Latinos. It makes life better for him. He just seemed really, really happy. I'll take that any day of the week.

Fun for us to see a picture of him in
action - facilitating a training session

A quick hello

So apparently he's learned
to use a jackhammer

Some Mondays bring lengthy letters from TMFKATB and ample time to 'chat' back and forth. Other weeks are akin to an email version of a drive-by. Today, friends, was a drive-by. His letter was fairly brief - a quick hello - and not especially detail rich, but he assured us all is well. That said, he sent a couple of pictures, including the one posted here. The other was of his companion working the same jackhammer. He provided zero context, but I take a couple of things away from it:

- He only has limited time on his P-Day, or day off, and I can't expect a "War and Peace" tome on the week that was.

- His mission continues to give him opportunities to serve and learn things he would never have learned living under my roof, like working a jackhammer. It's no secret I am no handyman and power tools are pretty much any kind are my mortal enemy. I mean I am a forty nine year old man who lives in abject fear of the day that I actually have to use my generator (I know I've said a lot of bad things, which you deserved, about you, Mother Nature, but please, by all that's holy, take it easy on us this upcoming winter!). That I have not taught my only son to use a jackhammer should come as a surprise to none of you. But here he is, gutting someone's patio as a part of a service opportunity. The kid's picked up a new skill!

I'll take the 'quick hello' letters, the out-of-context pictures, and the ongoing realization that he's learning and progressing. As a father, I would be selfish to ask for a whole lot more.

Pretty darn close

Dueling Painters

For the last nineteen days, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML has been burrowed up behind the Zion Curtain welcoming our new granddaughter to the world. I joined her this past Friday and we had a wonderful time (more on that in another post). One of the odd things about visiting our family who have settled behind the Zion Curtain is that it puts us minutes, literally minutes, away from TMFKATB. It's just odd to be that pretty darn close and to not see him. The first time we were in Utah after he was reassigned there, I cried like a little girl when I saw the name of the city he was serving in on an offramp sign on the I15. It wasn't much better the next couple of times, until this visit. I saw that same sign as I drove and it brought a smile to my face because I was so aware of the happiness he's feeling as he serves, learns, and grows. For those Den readers who don't know, missionary contact with their families is limited to Christmas and Mother's Day calls and weekly letters, so if you happen to be where your missionary is serving, it's not like you run on over and say, 'Hola!' 

This week's letter reflected that ongoing happiness, growth, and learning. He described a week of ups  and downs, but if I'm being honest, it was pretty hard, even reading between the lines, to find the downs. He talked about some of the challenges with some of the people that they have been teaching but he wrote of seeing the progress that was coming from those challenges. He seems to be learning how to connect with people from all over the Spanish-speaking world too. He was pretty pumped to be working with an Argentine couple. The home-cooked Argentine meal he had and loved with them seemed to only endear him further. It made him happy.

As we drove to the airport and passed that infamous offramp sign early this morning, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I talked about being so close, so pretty darn close, to TMFKATB. Neither of us had felt tempted to try and run into him. Frankly, it wouldn't be fair to him. These two years are his to grow, develop, and focus. These two years are what he has committed to God. They are not our two years, so it makes being pretty darn close more than good enough for now.

On laughter

Getting his Betty Crocker on

As you've seen from the last couple of posts recapping our hijinks in both outside and behind the Zion Curtain, we were TMFKATB-adjacent for a few days. Unlike the last time, when I cried like a little girl at the sight of the freeway exit sign to the town he's in, I managed to shed not a tear. This was not done intentionally, as if I was trying to protect that last vestiges of my shredded man card. No, it's because I was enveloped with a tremendous sense of peace as I saw that sign off the I15 on Saturday. I was grateful more than I was emotional.

Getting his letter today so soon after we'd been not far from him was more fodder for my gratitude. It was a challenging week. That's how it is when you are teaching people. Some times, it goes really well and some times, life gets in the way. That can be hard when you are nineteen year old, fully committed to serving as a missionary. It can be hard to understand why life gets in the way for those you are teaching. TMFKATB had a chance to learn a bit about that according to what he shared in his letter. As he weathered some of those challenges, he came away with this simple understanding:

"Best thing I learned this week is laughing throughout the day is the best thing ever. If we don't do it, we are just going to fall into a "meh" mood."

As TMFKATB went through some challenges this past week, he was able to see a way though them. One of those ways was, and is, laughter.  It's a simple, age-old concept. I believe that the Reader's Digest cornered the market on that column, right? If you're of a certain age, like mine or order, you may remember reading that very column at your grandparents' house. Perhaps in between "Hee Haw" and "The Lawrence Welk Show." C'mon, you know exactly what I'm talking about...I'm proud of him for connecting laughter with happiness and staying positive. He threw me for a loop though when in the same letter he sang the praises of Sizzler. Yes, Sizzler. He ate there for the first time, which was more terrifying for me than any of the places or things he may have eaten while in Mexico. To the credit of his palette, he only had this to say, "Well, their garlic bread is to die for."

Now that made me laugh and it's a review I can live with.

Moving Fast

The things one finds behind the Zion Curtain

"I learned a lot about moving fast this week."

That was just one of the things that TMFKATB had to share  in this week's letter and follow up banter. A lot went on in the past week for him and he did a pretty darn good job of keeping us filled in. Here are some of the highlights:

Transfers - with his companion finishing up his two year assignment, a new companion was certain. TMFKATB is now serving with a Salvadoreno who goes home next month. Their time together will be short but he was really excited to be assigned to work with this young man.

New Area - he's now working only in a Spanish area. He's excited about that but was bummed to say 'adios' to those he'd built relationships with. The good thing is that he's still close by.

Bike - no more car. He's in a bike area. He's excited to be on a bike. Of life on a bike, he said, 'It's fun being on bikes. I was really sore the first few days, but then it feels good. But being on a bike is great. It makes to people so much easier!'

One thing that hasn't changed since his letters from Mexico is the stream-of-consciouness nature of his writing (I blame the scourge of texting for this.) He fires off details and then out of nowhere, inserts something that he observed or learned and then he jumps back on the rat-a-tat motion of details. 'I learned a lot about moving fast this week,' is an example of one of those learnings that he buried while discussing something else. He's talked before about how he recognizes that his time as a missionary is not infinite and how he needs to maximize his time as he serves.  That theme emerged again in his non-sequitur observation.

He's got a point. Our time in this life is not infinite. We better make the best of it by working hard maximizing our time here. But we can't forget to enjoy this life either. Wasn't it the great 1980's philosopher, cultural icon, and guru, Ferris Bueller, who said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."

And a couple of pictures:

He loved his spicy shrimp dish

TMFKATB with his new companero

The ABC's and Sesame Street - A Thank You

Created the year I was born but not going on air until three years later, in 1969, "Sesame Street" endeavored to, according to the truthsayers at the Wikipedia, "master the addictive qualities of television and do something good with them." Interesting to note that even nearly fifty years ago, people recognized that television would by and large be a vapid, soul-sucking cauldron of nothingness. The characters of Sesame Street, human adults and children as well as the Muppets, would go on to teach countless children the basics of elementary education (e.g. literacy, mathematics, communication). Literally countless numbers of children learned to say their ABC's from Kermit the Frog. Many of us can remember counting with The Count. The lasting legacy and impact of "Sesame Street" cannot be discounted and millions of children continue to learn today from this program, despite the efforts of the Mittites and their ilk.

Why the "Sesame Street" nostalgia, you ask? Earlier today, the good people at one of my favorite magazines, Mental Floss, posted a link to a 40 year old scene from the show, featuring Kermit and a young girl doing the ABC's. How it plays out is clearly unexpected for everyone's favorite green frog.

Take a look:



As I watched this, a wave of nostalgia swept over me and I couldn't help but be thankful for those days that I can recall counting with the Count and working out letters with the denizens of Sesame Street. I looked over at my nightstand and saw the pile of books that I have read or am reading and I was so grateful that I can read. While I don't owe that ability to Sesame Street, it played a part in my comprehension and to the good people at the Children's Television Workshop, I say thank you.

I suppose what I'm reading now and what I've most recently read may freak the aforementioned CTW people out a bit. Here's a few of the titles:

Nagasaki Life After Nuclear War - Susan Southard - I'm currently reading this unflinching look at the affects of the plutonium bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Japan at the end of World War II. It is told through the eyes of several survivors. It's every bit as horrible as you can imagine and even more powerful.

Something Must Be Done About Prince Edward County - Kristen Green - In the early 1960's, there a handful of backward countries (countries!) and one county in Virginia where free public school education was not available. I just finished reading this personal history of the lasting impact of segregation.

The Billion Dollar Spy - David Hoffman - Fascinating and gripping account of a Russian engineer who spied for the US at his own volition. Why can't we teach this stuff in our high schools?

Like I said, it's an eclectic list. It may not be what the creators of "Sesame Street" envisioned but I don't honestly believe they wanted their young learners to solely recite the ABC's and read Dr. Seuss for the rest of their lives. They wanted us to know that each time you opened a book and began to read it, you opened a whole new world.

My world is better for it. Thank you, Sesame Street.

Of Colonoscopies a la Mexicana

Reunited with some of his favorites

Not sure where to start with what TMFKATB had to say to do. His letter arrived earlier than last week, closer to what it's normally been. He sent a note to me first though and it was a bit of a butt barn burner since it contained a delightful, and by that I mean gross, description of his Mexican colonoscopy. He was keen to know if I'd had one yet and I think he walked away more than a little proud that he got the First Timer's Trophy on that one. I've had other medical indignities thrust upon me, so I'm not worried about losing out to him too much. Without disclosing too much that would get me a HIPPA violation, it looks like he'll be having some more 'fun' within the confines of the Mexican medical system.

The good news is that he's been reassigned to a new area with a missionary who's been out a little longer than him. His companion is Mexican national, so once again TMFKATB will have a tremendous opportunity to enhance his language skills and learn more about the culture of this people that he has come to love so much. They are working hard and seem to be having a good time together. TMFKATB's attitude continues to blow me away. He's finding the positive in everything, even his jacked up intestinal fiesta.

As I read his letter, I wished he'd gotten a bit more of my cast-iron stomach. Why I can essentially eat roadkill in the streets of Kolkata or some unknown 'meat' out of a burning oil drum in Shanghai and not bat an eye and he's struggling in southern Mexico is beyond me. I'd trade places with him in a second if I could though. That said, as we read his letters, his sense of humor radiates and his positive attitude brings us a sense of peace. We were promised he would be watched over as he served. It's a promise in which we have enormous faith. Sometimes this feels like a bigger challenge for us than him. In some ways, it probably is. This mission experience is a tremendous time of learning for the young man or woman who chooses to serve. Turns out, the parents learn a whole lot as well. I need to be a better student and trust a bit more in the Teacher right now. I'm just glad that kid of mine in southern Mexico is such a great example.

It's good to be reminded that a Dad can always be learning from his children.

Loving learning

View of Tapachula

Knowing that TMFKATB had seen the doctor last week to address his ongoing gastrointestinal fiesta, we were curious to see what he'd have to say in this week's letter. His letter was upbeat, positive, and full of raves of his new-found love of learning. It also lacked, glaringly, an update as to what the doctor said. I have to remind myself that in spite of all that he's doing in his missionary service, he is still a nineteen year old. Giving your parents' an update on your health may slip in your mind.

That said, he described his week as 'chill.' Lots of work and he raved about his love of learning. Learning more about the language, the culture, and the things that he continues to teach (scripture, doctrine, etc). He admitted that this was not a love he had during high school (no kidding). He seems to have found it now and declared that he hopes now to never lose this love of learning. Woohoo! He had some opportunities to serve and to see rewards for continued hard work. Those are learnings too that he is enjoying.

To his credit, he did, in a note to the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML, mention that he made it to the doctor. He said the doctor felt his stomach, asked him "about a thousand questions" and then gave him some pills and that seemed to have done the trick. Um, that seems reasonable...

I can't argue though with the results. His letter and our real-time exchanges were so positive and continue to reflect a growth that no other experience could provide him. He's building the foundations for the rest of his life. Man, what a joy to be watching this!