Zapppppp

Back in 2009 I had rotator cuff surgery.
Well, rotator cuff and bicep reattachment.

I'm sure you've heard about how painful shoulder surgery is. I'm here to tell you, everything you've read about it is meaningless compared to the actual critter.
Although the pain has long since faded, and the scars are tiny little white lines, the memory of the agony will probably never go away.

The ACL replacement was worse.
I've never felt anything so horrible.
For weeks.

Of course they didn't listen to me when I told them it wasn't right. By the time I got someone to listen and do an MRI, it was too late.

Part of my hamstring was taken to form a new ACL. Big old holes drilled in my knee, an extra large calcium based screw was added, none of it worked.

The graft failed.

Now there's nothing but bone in both knees.
No cartilage in either one. The right knee had to do a whole lot of extra work while I was laid up and recovering, and that one's been operated on, too.

I've been walking around on ruined knees for ten goddamn years.

I still send wishes that are literally dripping with hatred to the fuckfaced asshole work comp lawyer  (aka the man in the smeg-colored suit) and his ship of morally bankrupt fools whose job it is to shit on injured workers. Of course it's just my opinion that he is a fuckfaced asshole. He may actually be the Mother Theresa of work comp lawyers.

Can you imagine? Their only job is to further harm people who have already been hurt. They work really hard at it and they make a metric fuckton of money.

They make their living hurting people.

Much like politicians.

So yeah. I hurt all the time. I'm not alone, I know.
Many have it much, much worse. I'm grateful that I can still work and do stuff.

But right now, it's windy. It often is out here in the mouth of the gorge.
I'm not terribly fond of wind, it agitates me for some reason.

Also, when it's windy, my pain levels are much worse. Not enough aspirin and other stuff in the universe on some days. And if it's under 40 degrees and windy, it's really bad.

Even that is interesting, though. You know how I always say that everything is educational, right? It really is.

Which is why I have developed this theory.

You know your body runs on electricity, right?
You're nothing but a big battery.
Several interesting articles out there.
Google was helpful in my little search.

From this article:

Electricity is everywhere, even in the human body. Our cells are specialized to conduct electrical currents. Electricity is required for the nervous system to send signals throughout the body and to the brain, making it possible for us to move, think and feel.

So, how do cells control electrical currents?

The elements in our bodies, like sodium, potassium, calcium, and magnesium, have a specific electrical charge. Almost all of our cells can use these charged elements, called ions, to generate electricity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had months of physical therapy for both of those big injuries.
One of the more interesting and least-painless parts of therapy involved the use of a thing called an Acuscope.

It was explained to me briefly pre-surgery, and a couple weeks later after I'd been sliced and diced, the topic came up again.

Shawn, the PT guy, wheeled a big cart into the treatment room, plugged in the machine and asked, "Do you remember how this works?"

I told him that the human body runs on electricity. And that healthy tissue has a very specific electronic signature. When you hook up the acuscope, the electrodes that are attached where the healthy tissue is pick up that signature and mimic it in the injured tissue which is between the other electrodes. The idea is that the injured tissue will electronically change while the correct frequency is applied and eventually heal, hopefully faster than it would have otherwise.

He stared at me.
I thought I'd said something wrong or incredibly stupid.
So I said, "What?"
He said he had therapists on his staff that wouldn't have been able to explain it so well.
Apparently that was intended to be complimentary.

I do think the Acuscope was helpful in the healing process.

Okay, so back to my theory.

Have you ever seen a video of a big spark jumping between someone's hand and a vehicle door? Or a spark in the middle of the night when you're adjusting your blankets and you've built up a good static charge without even knowing it? Or, have you done it on purpose? My Aunt Jeanne and Uncle George had shag carpet back in the 70s and every time my brother and I were there for a family gathering, we stayed in our socks and chased each other around trying to zap.

When the wind blows here, it builds up a great deal of static. Getting into your car can be an adventure. At my school, the static came indoors. Our concrete floors were full of electricity. My larger rugs, when I was rolling them up, would often shock me. I could feel my hair standing up, and when I stood the rugs up to make sure the roll was tight, the static would discharge rather painfully through one of my big toes and into the floor.

So I think the static and other stuff generated by the wind plays holy hell with my body's electrical field. Which causes me more pain in my knees and other parts of my body. Mostly knees, though.

So this week is supposed to be warm and windy.
Guess I'll be hobbling around a little more than usual.

I ought to be glad the electricity leaves my hair alone.

Settlement?

We have sent an offer of settlement to the comp insurer's attorney.

I have never been motivated by money in my life aside from in the most logical way... I work so I can pay the bills. There is a rather large part of me that hopes they will either say no, we don't want to settle, let's go to hearing on the 17th or that they'll come back with such a low offer that I can laugh at them and say 'you and the horse you rode in on, buddy'  and we'll go to hearing on the 17th.

I've had long exhaustive conversations with everyone who knows anything about work comp and about my case in particular.

Evidently going to hearing would not be in the opposing side's best interest, but you know, that hasn't stopped them yet. They have lost every time there's been conversation with a judge, and they'd lose this time, too.

Had the system just taken care of business the way they were supposed to in the first place, this would have been settled and over a long time ago.

If we go to hearing this time, I am ready.
And I will be heard.
Isn't that why they call it a hearing?

I didn't understand last time. Didn't understand the procedure, didn't know what sort of opportunity to speak I'd have, didn't know much of anything about it. This time I do.

I am prepared.

I am ready to talk about asking everyone involved with my case for help and how I've been treated.

Ready to tell the judge about many things that have occurred.

I am absolutely ready.

Being able to tell a judge exactly what's gone on would be cathartic for me and provide me with immense satisfaction on a visceral level.

So like I said, mixed feelings.

At this point, I don't know what will happen. And I mostly don't care. Either they'll settle or I will finally get my opportunity to say what needs to be said.

I am glad that money isn't what motivates me, as my indifference toward it causes me to be able to have a clear head. To be thoughtful and analytical without the craziness.

If I can pay the electric bill, and I have gas in my car so I can get to work, my needs are pretty much met. Oh, and the internet. That's fairly important.

But I have those things now. :)

Anyway, if nothing else, this has been quite instructive. I've learned a lot about all kinds of things.

Now I'm heading off to bed.
I have been sleeping pretty well since I got past the insomnia after being so sick, but did the reflux thing last night. I'd prefer not to do that again for awhile.

Tomorrow I'll tell you a funny story from Thursday's program. No school Thursday or Friday this week. We combine all our programs at one location. It's a lot of fun to connect with kids I see only occasionally and to get to know ones I haven't met before.

I love my job. :)

Fragglements

Or maybe 'frazzlements'.

This and that.

Talked to my attorney this morning. She advised me to go ahead and fill out the intrusive questionnaire, telling me that work comp inc and everyone associated with them already have that information anyway. The purpose is to find out if I'm a liar. You'd think by now they'd know.

I requested paperwork be sent to me to designate my current attorney to be my representative for the new injury. We talked briefly about the different possibilities that could occur with this case and moved on.

After more than four years, the other two injury cases are now officially closed. Oh, they still need to pay some medical bills, and I will be getting some reimbursements from hospitals etc, but the eternal paperwork and bullshit is over.

I'll get a bit of settlement from both cases. I will not be rich when I get those checks, but I will be able to pay off some bills. It's never been about money anyway.

It will be a relief to have the stuff over with. I think it's appalling that it took so long for the wheels and gears of the fabulous shit-on-the-injured-worker machine to stop grinding along, but I have to say I've learned a great deal from the experience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Molly* was mad again when she got there today. She was running in the hallway on her way to program and accidentally tripped Brody*. He fell down and then he yelled at her.

She came in, sat down next to one of the carts and put her coat over her head. As the rest of the kids came in, they glanced at her curiously. Ariana*, who is really very sweet and nurturing and tries to take care of everyone, was worried and tried to talk to her. She was roundly snubbed, which hurt her feelings a little bit.

I said, "Leave Molly alone, you guys. She needs time to sit for a few minutes. She's fine. Go play."

In about 15 minutes, Molly came to talk to me, face red and blotchy from crying and embarrassment and said, "I was bad, I made Brody fall down!"

So I explained to her that she wasn't bad, had simply been careless. I said, "You didn't try to make him fall down, did you?"

When she said no, she hadn't, I said, "Then stop worrying about it. I heard you say sorry to him. He doesn't seem angry with you at all. Go ahead and put your coat and backpack away and find an activity."

The rest of the afternoon was good. And when I told her it was time to clean up, she didn't offer any arguments. I'm sure it's a temporary lull, she will try to revert to the same behavior again, but right now anyway she will do as she's asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you know what scratch art is?
I have some squares of heavy cardboard with a black surface coating. One takes a stylus or other type of little stick and scratches off the black to reveal bright colors underneath. Some of the ones I've seen are really great. It takes a lot of creativity to do one.

But for some reason, a lot of the kids like to scratch off ALL the black. It reveals a shiny, colorful rainbow surface, but it's nothing special. I can't figure out why they do it. Doesn't matter, except I hate spending money on craft projects that end up wasted, at least in my eyes.

I don't harass the kids about it, though. I've just made a note somewhere in my head not to spend budget money on them anymore. They're not cheap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I planned some activities for next week about bats. 'Tis the season and all. They really are fascinating little creatures, and the kids are always interested in things that make their moms go, 'eww.'

I have a couple cute projects for us to do, which will make most of the kids very happy, especially one of the little guys, Brandon.*

He asks me every day, "What's the project?"

I always feel bad if we don't have one he likes. And sometimes we don't have time to get to them. But he enjoys making things with his hands, so I am sure he'll enjoy these.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last, speaking of projects... remember the apple experiment? I 'retired' the apple slices this morning, but not before I took a photo of one set. Can you tell which one was handled with unwashed hands and which one was handled by the same child after washing with antibacterial soap? The slices are two weeks old in this photo. It's a dramatic lesson, and the kids won't forget it. But it makes them smile, too. Best way to learn. If you ask me. :)

Left hand, meet right hand...

I got a letter today telling me that the 'manditory' (yes, that's really how they spelled it in the letter I got before this one) closing exam with the surgeon who operated on my knee in December 2011 has been canceled.

I wonder if they figured out they were about to pay for an exam that had already been performed at my request by Dr. Pain.

Department of Redundancy Department!!

I swear these people have no idea what they're doing. All they know is that they don't want to pay for medical care for injured workers and that it doesn't matter what they have to do to avoid that.

I'd be really interested in a cost accounting. How much money they've spent trying to avoid taking care of me properly vs how much money it would have cost them to just do the right thing in the first place.

Think about it. Simple, straightforward meniscus surgery. About 5 grand, give or take.

Instead of that, they wanted to argue about it. Exams here. Exams there. I know that due to a clerical error, I was sent the payment check for one of the 'impartial' examinations I was forced to submit to. Five grand.

I have lost count of how many examinations I was forced to attend. Litigation fees. Time wasted in court and on piles of paperwork.

I've spent most of the last three years in pain. Things still hurt. I am considering asking for another round of physical therapy/acupuncture for my right knee. They have to provide it if I need it.

If they'd just taken care of me in the first place, so much could have been avoided.

The thing I'm most angry about is the 10 months I spent walking around on a knee that was torn up while they denied it. And while I don't ordinarily wish bad things on people, I would definitely feel a sense of poetic justice if everyone involved in trying to shit on this injured worker spent 10 months with knee pain. I'd even volunteer to kick them in the knee to get it started.

Just line those assholes up.

Mongolian Clusterfuck

I know I've mentioned before that one of the medical people I know (not involved in any of the work comp stuff) told me that if she were hurt at work, she would lie and say it had happened at home. No way in hell would she attempt to navigate the work comp system.

Of course this was after I was already being kicked around and treated like a criminal by Mr. H. Statesman who runs the opposing side's law firm. (H stands for humanitarian, of course.)

Never mind. Karma's a bitch.
He will eventually be caught up with one way or another.

I'm looking forward to being able to permanently dismiss him from my universe.

If you're new to the story, or just would like a refresher, I got slammed with three work injuries in a fairly short span of time. 

The comp insurer didn't want to take care of the third injury, and I limped around in pain for 10 months on a knee THEY said there was nothing wrong with. I finally went and found a surgeon on my own and had the knee (that had awakened me at least four times a night for 10 months) operated on in December of 2011.

I kept the surgery off my blog completely and didn't bother letting my attorney know (in writing) that I'd had the knee surgery until two days before the hearing on the matter.

My little act of defiance.

And since Oregon allows discovery in work comp cases, my attorney considerately faxed the surgery report to Mr. Statesman. Suddenly Mr. Statesman wanted to settle! This was the second or third time they offered... but the first couple times the first condition was that I resign from my job.

This time they were quite magnanimous, saying they'd take 'quit your job' off the table if I wanted to settle right then.

Yeah.
No.

The hearing was in February 2012, the judge handed down a decision in my favor in July. 

A year and a month ago.

Fast forward to now.

They've still not paid everything they owe, they've never made an effort to close the case, and my attorney is once again taking them to court to try to fix the situation. That's supposed to happen on September 3rd.

I saw Dr. Pain a couple weeks ago to determine whether I am medically stationary, and the gears of the fabulous Shit on the Injured Worker machine began to grind along once again.

Got the mail a week ago Saturday on our way to the grocery store.

Sometimes I don't bother to read the mail I get from legal people over the weekend, reasoning that if it's something that's going to drive me insane trying to decipher or it's just somehow stressful, it's easier to open it on Monday so I have time to contact my attorney for clarification etc.

But I did open this one from the comp insurer.

I just now went and grabbed the letter and read it again.

They've set up a closing examination for the right knee with the doctor who performed the surgery. Sort of a waste of money since I went to Dr. Pain a few weeks ago for the same purpose. He did some range of motion stuff and we considered that the closing exam.

I don't know what the hell they're thinking, spending still more money to send me to another examination that will have results identical to the first exam, really, but although they may have great legal minds they don't seem to be burdened with common sense.

Of course, being the kind and generous humanitarians they are, they scheduled the appointment RIGHT in the middle of the day, messing up my entire schedule for that day.

So I had to ask for the whole fucking day off because the way our schedule works over the summer, there isn't a way for me to be off in the middle of the day without inconveniencing the other people on the staff.

In July LAST year they were ordered to pay me a certain amount and they STILL haven't done that, either. Thank goodness I'm not holding my breath.

In closing, here's today's free advice, which I've given before. But in case you missed it, pay attention. It's important.

If you're ever hurt at work, follow these easy steps.
1. Pick up your severed limb.
2. Walk, drive, be dragged to the nearest attorney who deals with work comp.
3. After signing papers, seek medical attention.

The nose is smiling and I'm busy. And an overdue shout out to Mr. Humanitarian Statesmen and his pack of Benevolent Philanthropists

I'm sure my nose is not really smiling, but I am.
Since it's not bleeding and all.

I worked today from 7:30 until 1:15.
Did a little scouting around the playground, planning next week's event.
*I* am the field trip. I have planned (or done some planning for) a 3 hour event.

"Star Tours"

There will be four stations. Or five. I don't know. Still getting things together, still pondering what we're going to do, exactly.

Each station will have a code to solve so the kids will know what their activity/task will be at that station.

One of the stations will be 'make your own planet'. We have CDs and styrofoam balls. I will cut the balls in half and glue one half to the top and one half to the bottom of each CD. I'll be stringing a piece of fishing line through each one and the kids will decorate them with assorted glittery and fluorescent paints.

I'm still in the planning phases, but it will all come together by the time we get stuff laid out and ready. I'll be working on it in my head half the weekend and on paper the other half.

The kids will just find it fun.

But translated into educationalese, it will be an enrichment experience.
Language, literacy, problem solving, collaborative learning, manual dexterity.. after we do the whole thing, I will write it up for you to read. I have permission to use my own camera this time, so I'll get some decent photographs. I will have to hand off the camera card to my supervisor, but will get it back. And I'll share some 'does not contain children' photos with you. We're going to have a good time, but I'll be obsessing until it's over. My lists have lists.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have to go see Dr. Pain this coming week.
It's his job now to determine if I am 'medically stationary'.
Meaning, am I going to get any better?

It's the next step in the ridiculously long process of Mr. Statesman and his beneficent and kindly pack 'taking care' of me.

You've chosen a line of work in which your sole function is to hurt people. How do you justify that? Really. I would love to know. I couldn't do your job... I have compassion, integrity and a wish to make the world a better place. You should try it sometime.

I have heard that karma is a bitch.
I'd love to be there to see it when it catches up with you.

I am still appalled at the amount of money they've spent trying to avoid taking care of me. But there's certainly a part of me that finds it humorous. They've cost themselves twice what it would have cost to just take care of stuff.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever. Time for me to head off to bed, I have a huge weekend of a million tasks. And I won't get them done if I don't rest.

Learning New Stuff

So I called my attorney this week.
The money owed to me hasn't all showed up and I wanted to know why.

Guess what? Once the court case has been won and the screaming stops and dust settles... *I* am responsible for letting everyone know where the bills go!

So there are a ton of outstanding bills out there. All still unpaid. Because evidently hiring an attorney doesn't take care of everything.

It would have been nice if someone said to me, "Okay, you won your case. Here's what you need to do next."  And then informed me of all the rest of what needed to happen.

Jesus. It's going to be interesting trying to handle all this stuff.

I had a medical professional who was not involved with my injuries tell me that if she were hurt at work she would lie and say it happened at home. That paying the insurance deductible would be preferable to the extreme bullshit that is work comp.

And it's a little late for me to lie and say I got hurt at home, I guess.

Jesus again.

Pass the goddamn Xanax, willya?

Want to see my butt?

Of course you do. Who wouldn't?

So I was getting into the car on Wednesday morning. My cell phone was in my left coat pocket, and somehow I caught the phone between my left hip and the door frame on the car and hurt myself.

Yes, that's right. I hurt myself on a telephone. I smacked it so hard that it left a huge bruise. It hurts like hell, I can't sit on a hard surface unless I lean to the right, I can't sleep on my left side (of course my preferred sleeping position) and I have to be careful about how I pull up my pants.

I'm hoping the mirror and blurry photo don't shock anyone.

Work Comp takes TIME

One of the judge's decisions (Handed down in JULY) was that I was to be reimbursed for all out of pocket expenses incurred with the right knee claim.

Dr. Ego, the one who did the surgery on the right knee, required $500 to even talk to my attorney. My up front share of that was $250.00. I paid that in February, I believe. On Saturday, I received a check from my attorney for $250.00.

Still outstanding, besides the medical bills, are a payment for permanent partial disability on the left knee, and a penalty payment of 25% on everything because they did not pay in a timely manner.

We're coming up on two years since the right knee injury. One year this week since I got it fixed.

Eric and I were discussing it this weekend.

My attorney has made an offer to settle on the right knee claim. Yes, they have to pay for my surgery and associated costs (prescriptions etc) but the claim itself is still open, as I have not had a closing exam, permanent degree of disability has not been established.. lots of legal wrangling still to be done.

My guess? Those assholes are going to make me a (lowball) offer in the next week or so, reasoning (incorrectly) that I am just a babysitter, Christmas is coming, and I'll jump at the chance to get a couple extra grand just before the holiday, sign the papers and giggle all the way to the bank.

They don't know me at all.

My prediction? They will make that offer, I will say no, and we'll end up having to head for court again. We'll get to the point of scheduling a hearing, I'll stress over making sure my site is covered by someone competent, I'll lose sleep, and at the last minute we'll reach a more reasonable settlement than the one they're about to make.

Just guessing.

I think it's utterly appalling that a person who is injured on the job should have to fight for coverage. It was a straightforward injury, requiring surgery and recovery. It would have cost the comp insurer far less to just take care of me. But noooo. They decided they did not want to pay. Litigation ensued, the lawyers got richer, I worked for months and months on an injured knee and through the pain that goes with it, and waited.

When I finally couldn't take it anymore, I went and got it fixed, not knowing if they'd ever have to do the right thing and cover it. It has not been a pleasant experience, but I've definitely learned a great deal.

My advice to anyone injured on the job? 
1. Pick up your severed limb
2. Try to package it carefully, although they're no longer recommending you pack the whole thing in ice, as I recall
3. Get someone to drive you to an attorney's office if you're not able to drive yourself and sign papers agreeing to have that attorney represent you in your work comp case.
4. Go to the emergency room or urgent care and have the limb reattached.
5. Wait to be taken care of properly.

So it's taking even more time, but I don't care. My knee has been fixed, they have been ordered to pay for all of it, and they can take the next ten years if they want to.

It's good that I'm not holding my breath waiting, huh?

Adolescent Skin and Litigation

AARGHHHHHHHHHH!!

And whiskers!

And mood swings.

I've been having the weirdest sleep patterns. I know that part of it is the ungodly hour of the morning that I must get out of bed, part of it is hormones, part of it is continuing pain in my left knee that never has healed properly, part of it is that I'm always anxious.

Now that most of the legal shit is over, I should be less anxious, but that's not usually how I work. During all the long, drawn out legal process I wasn't as edgy as I am right now.

I'm weird. I admit it.

In July, the judge handed down his decisions... all the medical bills from continuing treatment related to my left knee were to be paid. I was to be reimbursed for the surgery I paid for myself in December, paid for time lost from work, all my attorney's legal fees were to be paid, and the remainder of the permanent partial disability on my left knee was to be paid as well.

None of those things happened. A new player, Charitable Inc. sent me a bunch of letters denying all of it.

Evidently they can't do that.

So now, in addition to whatever they were already ordered to pay by the judge, they must add a penalty for not paying in a timely manner.

Every piece of paper I get is almost undecipherable. I mean, they're written in English, punctuated correctly, and perfectly legible, but I have no idea what the fuck they mean. All written in legalese.

So I finally managed to be calm enough to talk with my attorney and gained some understanding of what is going on.

It boils down to: I will get some sort of settlement. It's being hashed out by my attorney and the Humanitarians, and we may or may not be able to come to an agreement.

It has never been about personal gain, and it isn't now, either. What it's really about is that I'm pissed about how I was treated, I am pissed that there are actually legions of kind and generous people JUST LIKE them who make money out of shitting on injured workers.

This is one crazy world. Seriously.

Paper Plates

Sorry.

I'm really behind at trying to respond to comments lately. I'm sort of in another withdrawal phase, and spending a lot of time trying to avoid life in general... go to work, nap, go back to work, come home and hang out awhile and go to bed. I'm actually surprised that I still manage to write something or another for my blog every day.

Work is my haven, since I mostly have control over what happens there. There are few surprises.

I'm sure I'll start feeling better once the goddamn hearing is over, but it's looming over me and making me feel like shit. The anxiety isn't fun. I resent the SHIT out of having to take medication to deal with the anxiety over the hearing and other work comp crap. I've been fucked over by a bunch of goddamn lawyers who don't have ANY idea about me other than they don't want to pay. That's it.

Even though it's been three years since the first injury, I am still utterly shocked that I got hurt AT WORK and have not been taken care of the way I should. I know it should not be a surprise. But it IS. It's shocking. I was intimidated into NOT reporting a fall/injury about a year ago, too. That is no way to run a railroad, but I guess that's why I'm not the engineer.

When all this is finally over, I plan to send some letters and commentary to the proper people and places.

So enough about that shit.

Paper plates. What will I do with paper plates and black acrylic paint?

We make a lot of little projects that involve glue, paint, markers, sequins and other messy items. The first thing I do when we're about to make a project is to hand a paper plate to each participant. They write their name on it with a marker. It becomes their work surface as well as their drying area AND is what they take their project home on. It's very convenient for rolling out play doh, too. Keeps the mess confined a bit.

Many little projects can be made with paper plates, too. Masks, little weaving looms, fans, frisbees... they can be cut and stapled and made into small boxes, just like card stock.

We sometimes serve snacks on paper plates, too. Occasionally I bring in apples or carrots or something that needs a plate for serving.

And now that I've explained that really important stuff, and my husband is both crabby and ranting, I think I'll sign off and escape into sleep. It will be great until the alarm goes off at 5.

Hey, tomorrow I'll explain the black acrylic paint... but I'll give you a hint. Halloween is approaching.

More stuff in my head

Zentangly stuff. Some of the kids loved it, some were sort of 'meh'. But Arielle* sat down with me this morning and I taught her a few tangles that I knew she'd be able to do. She did a great job, and was happy with the things she drew, showing them to other staff as they came in, and saying several times she couldn't wait to show her dad.

Her parents both have encouraged her love of drawing, always making a big deal of what she's done, but not insincerely. She feels good when people comment on her art work favorably and it makes her want to draw more.

I know how she feels, I feel the same way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The custodian at our summer site was not thrilled when he learned our program would be held at his school, but we have worked really hard to be good neighbors and guests and I think we've won him over.

Tomorrow we're presenting him with a tie dyed shirt and have invited him to join us for a special lunch. Our goodbye party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bunch of stuff loaded in my car to take to my site on Thursday. I have so much that needs to be done and so little time in which to do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Social Media.
I love my blog. I love reading other people's blogs. They're a deeper glimpse of people. I seriously dislike Facebook, wouldn't consider being a Twit, and can't understand most of it. I find it hilarious when news stations tell us that 'so and so tweeted' about this or that. Especially when so and so is some macho man or mean assed big shot executive.

Our local newspapers and television stations have mostly gone to FB for their commenting format. So I made a FB account to be able to leave comments, but it's NOT the real me. And even though I enjoy leaving comments, I'm still not sure it's worth it, and might end up deleting the stupid thing.

I wrote to the local newspaper editor after they changed formats and congratulated him on killing meaningful dialog.

Haven't heard back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My family watches Master Chef. I phrased that carefully, since I don't watch television. But lately, my computer is in the living room so I can be with the fam in the evening, and I've seen a few episodes.

Is it just me or are the 'meals' they make sort of like modern art or the emperor's new clothes? Very pretentious and low in substance, most of the time not even pretty, put together in a weird way. It can't possibly be satisfying to eat one of those dishes... no bigger than a fart bucket, as my grandma used to say.

It's a show that cracks me up, anyway. And one of the chefs, don't ask me his name, is a very large man. Much larger than a person who only eats those little teeny servings of basically nothing. I'm guessing he has a stash of twinkies or chocolate somewhere, and I bet he's not afraid of a good steak, either.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am done getting up at 5 until Tuesday, when I'll be doing it five days a week. Because summer is OVER.

Twelve weeks went by awfully fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And news on the work comp front..
Evidently we won our case, but the comp insurer's attorney has filed appeals, they don't want to pay their bills and take care of me. My guess, based on the one check that was accidentally sent to me that should have gone to one of their doctors and the amount of attorney fees they were ordered to pay is that they've spent three times the amount it would have cost to just fix my knee instead of trying to avoid it.

So we have another hearing coming up in October.

I'm sure any medical examinations will be scheduled ON PURPOSE during working hours, too.

On the other hand, after the first hearing, in which I was NOT really given an opportunity to speak, I wished for a do over. Looks like I have one.

And I will do a lot better this time... know how you look back and say to yourself, "I should have said______."?

I'm ready this time.

And I'll be talking to my attorney again this week, and perhaps we'll have a little surprise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The thing that bothers me the most about all this?
No, not the pain.
Not the sleepless nights with pain/anxiety.
Not the things I've missed out on with my family.
Not the money I've had to spend for all kinds of things.

What bothers me the most? Their not taking responsibility for my on the job injuries is a question of my personal integrity. And I may not have much, but that has always been something I've had and been justifiably proud of.

Humanitarian and Philanthropist Inc.?
No integrity.

Which in a strange way is sort of satisfying to me because it makes me better than them.

I'm kinda pissed part 4

Not too long after the right knee injury in January of 2011  I got tired of being pushed around by the work comp system and got an attorney.

A good friend who knows the work comp system very well told me that it was 'way past time' to get a lawyer.

I hadn't retained one in the first place because I thought that the act of getting a lawyer meant that I was unhappy with the medical treatment I'd received and a way of saying they'd done a bad job for me. I didn't feel that way at all, and was not interested then (or now) in causing any trouble for the people who took such amazing care of me.

I can certainly understand people scamming the system, but off the top of my head I can think of at least two other ways to steal money through personal injury faking... and I'd never be caught.

Who the hell can't figure out things like that? There are certainly enough of them out there collecting benefits. Google it! (funny how that's become a verb, huh?)

If I were faking injuries for personal gain, it would be awfully hard to fool an MRI, now wouldn't it?

So I contacted a relative who works for a very large nationwide work comp insurer. She is a senior claims analyst. Very familiar with the system, the people who work within it, and all the local attorneys. And I asked her via email who she most hated to hear from in a comp case. She got back to me right away with a name and phone number, telling me that 'she's a good attorney and she makes us work for what we want.'

So of course that was who I chose.

When I was a teen, my brother Jim had a poster on his bedroom wall.
It was a cartoon drawing of a large plain, devoid of any features.
A little mouse sat in the center, middle finger up at an approaching eagle. Nowhere to run.
Inevitable death.
The caption was The Last Great Act of Defiance.

I deliberately did not send a surgical report or any written information regarding the December surgery to my attorney until Wednesday, February 3rd. Two days before the hearing was scheduled.
That was on purpose.
MY act of defiance.

I faxed the surgical report to my lawyer Wednesday morning about 10.
Thursday morning at 8:30, my cell phone rang. The chief paralegal. She called wanting to know 'if resigning from your job was taken off the table, would you be interested in settling your case?'

Funny. As soon as those generous and caring comp attorneys found out that I'd had surgery to repair my injured knee, they were suddenly interested in settling and NOT trying to steal my job from me. They'd made two offers to settle before.

Both times they'd made an offer the first item on the menu was Resign from your job.

No. Hell no. No, no, no. That's actually what sent those lovely flowers of humanity to my blog in the first place... my angry tirade mentioning the attorney whose name was on the paperwork coming from my attorney and asking for my resignation.

Father Teresa. Taking great pride in kicking injured workers while they're down. No person too small to shit on.

Someone from their firm spent a very long time reading old posts on my blog. Looking for actionable things. 

Evidently after that, for whatever reason, the case went to Mr. H. Statesman. Or at least that's whose name started showing up on papers and that's who came to the hearing and groveled in front of the judge while simultaneously looking down his nose at me.

So I gave serious thought to the possibility of settling.
Asked many questions of my attorney. Talked with several people.

Decided that I was going to go through with the hearing.

I didn't say what needed to be said in the hearing, it was intimidating and although it shouldn't be that way, is designed to keep people off balance if they've never been there before.

I wasn't given an opportunity to tell 'the whole truth.'

I'd love to have a do over. But of course that won't happen.

After the hearing, I went back to regular life.

You know, getting up at 5 in the morning, hanging out with the kids, not sleeping enough at night and still healing from the surgery I was forced to pay for myself.

I had to use a great deal of my vacation time and pay to keep things afloat while getting the knee repaired and recuperating from surgery. I was able to go back to work in January, although I was still in pain and needed to wrap the knee up to function at even a percentage of 'normal'.

I'm doing as well as I can now. The left knee has never healed properly, and it does cause trouble for me, but I'm managing. I make it to work. I can move the tables and set up my program and walk where I need to with the kids and take care of business.

The right knee, which was repaired in December, continues to improve. It doesn't feel... broken like it did before.

Although the first few days post surgery were excruciating, it was worth it. There's very little popping and grinding and not much pain now.
Healing.
Even though arthroscopy is minimally invasive surgery, it's still surgery.

Still involves someone slicing into part of your body, sticking instruments and cameras and stuff through the incisions and doing all kinds of things to you while you're sleeping. Takes time to fully heal. Especially when you're not 20 anymore.

I'm glad to have the surgery in my past.

During all the comp crap...

I hid out a lot.
Slept as much as I could.
Took my anti anxiety medication.
Spent HUGE amounts of time utterly stressed, exhausted, angry, feeling helpless.

My job became a haven. I have always been able to leave my stresses and worries outside the doors of the school. I'm not sure why, but my theory (and I'm stickin' to it) is that once I've entered the building, events are under my control. There are small surprises, but usually they're good ones. The kids make me smile. They're a good influence. :)

Also, since I started this line of work, I've had a deep conviction that I needed to present the same face to the kids every day. To be the same calm, steady, straightforward and trustworthy person they count on. To leave my own garbage outside work, no matter what's going on and be there for them. In a few cases, I spend more waking hours during the week with them than their parents do. I want that time to be predictable and have my program be a place where they always feel safe and cared for. I want to be day care that actually CARES.

It wasn't an option to be crabby and out of sorts just because my knees hurt and the work comp fucks were dragging their feet and had suggested that I wasn't hurt at all.

I took a lot of Excedrin. I'm sure between the narcotics at night and the Excedrin during the day, my poor liver still hates me.

I mentioned once before that I visualize my liver lying at the bottom of my abdominal cavity like a wounded manatee, occasionally weakly waving a flipper and sort of lumpishly trying to survive.

I hope my poor liver recovers.

I didn't discuss the case unless forced to with my husband or the rest of my family, knowing on a deep level that talking about it would make me feel worse rather than better.

Eric, wanting to protect me and take care of me, came across angry and demanding when he asked me about what was going on. He was angry. Not at me, of course. He had said from the beginning that I needed to turn stuff over to him so he could make phone calls and get some results.

If you're a man, you know about trying to protect your woman... and if you're a woman who's been lucky enough to get a good guy, you know, too. He wanted to take care of me and I didn't think there was a whole lot he could do.

He saw me hurting. He walked along with the shopping cart in the grocery store while I drove the scooter. He heard me say ouch in the middle of the night. He saw me get up in the morning and hold on to the walls until the knee warmed up enough to move. He saw how bad my balance was. He saw me come home from work and sit. Sit. Sit. I did nothing besides work, eat and sleep. I managed to sort of make sure we had clean clothing, but that's about the extent of my domesticity.

He wanted his wife back. And like a wounded animal, I wanted to hide in a corner and bite anyone who came to bother me. :)

I'm ashamed that I was actually a pretty crappy wife and mom during this time. I wasn't able to give 100% of me to anything, there was that percentage that was always focused on what hurt and how long until I could lie down and rest again.

My friends asked me about the case, and I would say a little about it, but mostly tried to compartmentalize the comp stuff and ignore it.

Every time it got brought up I wanted to tell people that 'I don't wanna talk about it,' but didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. They were only asking because they cared. I knew that. Also, I hadn't sorted out my own feelings and been able to ponder events and things enough to be coherent.

So there was a lot of anger and resentment, too, and no one to share it with at 2 AM. In the general scheme of things, my pain was fairly small. But to me of course, it was large. It took over a great deal of my existence. There wasn't a time that the knee didn't hurt, all that varied was the degree of pain. There was fear, too. What if I can't get it fixed? What if I never find anyone to LISTEN???So eleven months without being able to sleep through the night, limping through work, taking narcotics to just REST a little, missing ALL the summer field trips with the kids, and just being exhausted from all of it took a lot of energy.

And the left knee has never healed properly. I was getting acupuncture treatments, which did help me temporarily, but the left knee did its share of burning and aching during the night and when the right one wasn't waking me up, the left one did instead.

And when Dr. Pain decided to cave to pressure from work comp and sign off on the case, the PT and acupuncture that at least made things bearable for a time just... stopped.

And trying to just do my regular work when I was in constant pain was really difficult.

I was pissed off because my doctors would not listen to me. I was angry beyond angry that the system that's supposed to protect injured workers just didn't.

I knew from the beginning that I'd done something permanent to the knee, that it wasn't a 'soft tissue injury' at all, which is what was being said.

It's funny, because the doctors paid for by work comp SAID I had a tear in the meniscus. The dissenting opinion was from my chosen doctor, and that's the opinion they went with. Saving money, ya know.

Dr. Pain, the doctor I chose for the 2nd opinion regarding the left knee had written me off. Pressure from work comp and the fact that he wasn't willing to stand up and override or even say anything contrary to the opinion of my orthopedic doctor.

Dr. Slice and Dice, who'd taken such good care of my shoulder and done the surgery on the left knee had stopped listening to me early. I don't want to say that he caved to pressure from work comp. My guess actually is that he did not. But the result was the same, he didn't listen to me and I knew he wasn't going to help me.

My own doctor, Dr. Dirtball, did not touch my knees. She did no examination of them whatsoever, telling me that she didn't want to compromise my case in any way. Smart. Greatly appreciated now that I understand the legal shit a little better.

My mom finally gave up asking me about it when I told her that I promise to give her news if there IS any, but to please stop asking me about it, it was driving me bugfuck.

I didn't want to talk about it.
Now I'm ready to.

I'm kinda pissed part 3

Keeping up? Hearing was February 5th. During the hearing the opposing attorney said that my doctor wanted to charge his firm 6 grand for a deposition, suggested that it was not 'reasonable and customary' and I found it humorous, thinking my doctor just didn't want to talk to him. Not that I blame him. :)

But I got a call from the paralegal who works for my attorney on February 17th.

She had quite a lot of urgency in her voice.
Informed me that if Dr. Slice and Dice did not lower his deposition fee for the amazing and charitable law firm of Humanitarian and Philanthropist that ALL of his testimony would be stricken from the record. Not a good thing.

She suggested that I call the doctor's office and see if I could get them to lower their fee.

I did a little freakout, which is one of my biggest talents. Calmed down a little. Decided that rather than run the gauntlet of people layers (we all know how doc offices are designed... you have to state your case to 8 people before you can even leave a message for the doctor to call you.. and each layer is there to dissuade you and insulate THEM) I'd write him another letter.

Back in 2009 after the shoulder surgery, I went in for a routine post surgery check, and my doctor HURT me. He yanked my arm one way and then the other, nearly bringing me to my knees with shock and pain.

After I calmed down and gave it a little thought, I knew that he hadn't done it on purpose.  But I could not go back and see him again until I was certain that he would not surprise me so I wrote him a letter about it.

Matt hand delivered the letter to the front desk at the office. It was addressed to Dr. Slice and Dice and marked 'contents personal'. It was between us. I didn't think the entire office needed to be informed.

The doctor called me. We talked on the phone for about 20 minutes. He was kind and apologetic. He was not aware that he'd scared me. Assured me that he would not do so again.

Our relationship was fine after that, and when it was time to have the ACL repaired, I was confident that he'd take good care of me. He did, too.

So when I got the call in February, I decided that a letter was the best (and most expedient) way to communicate. When the envelope is marked 'contents personal' it's kind of a direct line, ya know?

And when I write, I can carefully choose what I want to say and the tone in which I say it. I can look at it and think about it and read it over and over until it says things exactly the way I want.

Dear Dr. Slice and Dice,

I'm asking you to reconsider the deposition fee you've asked from the bottom feeding filthy scum sucking mutants otherwise known as Humanitarian and Philanthropist Inc.

I understand that another deposition about a case in your distant past is really nothing but a pain in the ass. I'd have to agree, and I sympathize.

The problem though, is that if you won't talk to them, all your testimony will be dumped from the record and the judge currently holding this case will not get the whole story.

These people? (I question their humanity, yes) have done everything they can to discredit me on a personal basis. Excruciating details cheerfully provided, but no guarantee that my story won't be liberally laced with profanity.

Let's just say for now that I have learned the work comp system does not exist to protect injured workers, instead enriching people whose sole function is to win the big legal chess game.

It's about legal wrangling and large quantities of male bovine fecal matter.

Almost everyone loses sight of the fact that there's a living, breathing human person behind the case numbers and legal maneuvering.
Since in this instance, it's me, it's sort of hard to lose sight of it.

Please. Lower your fee and talk to these (expletives deleted) attorneys.

I'd be grateful.

Ami Mental      123 456 7890

I got a call the very next morning. And the person I talked to was utterly shocked that Mr. Statesman had said that the office wanted to charge six grand for a deposition, as that had NEVER been true, no one in the office would ever say that, and that every attorney who asked Dr. Slice and Dice to sit for a deposition was charged the exact same amount for his time.

I called my attorney with that information.
It wasn't long before a letter arrived. A copy of what my attorney had sent to the presiding judge, detailing the fee schedule for the surgeon and adding, "therefore it appears the fee for a deposition from this doctor is x amount."

Funny that somehow that information hadn't made it to the hearing, isn't it?

I'm kinda pissed part 2

Have you heard that medical schools are starting to use lawyers instead of lab rats for their experiments?

It's true.
There are three reasons for that.
One, the medical students don't get attached to the lawyers.
Two, the lawyers reproduce much faster.
And three? Well, you can get a lawyer to do things a rat wouldn't even consider.

(Have you ever tried typing lawyer? It keeps coming out laywer. Just thought I'd ask.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's more about Mr. Humanitarian Statesman and my work comp hearing.

Which took place February 5th, if you're keeping track.
Actually, even if you're not keeping track, it took place February 5th.Two tables with their ends butted against each other sat in front of the judge's bench. My attorney seated herself at the right hand table in the right hand seat, leaving the chair to her left and the left hand table vacant.

She told me that I could sit in the chairs at the back of the room with Eric,"for now."
Humanitarian showed up a few minutes after the rest of us were situated, dragging in an enormous scrapbooking case on wheels. Yeah, I know it was really a briefcase, but I amused myself by deciding he was gonna whip out the photo albums and paper edging scissors and cropping tools.

A briefcase is smaller. Compact. Businesslike... but this thing was a serious piece of equipment.

I wonder if the truss he almost certainly has to wear to haul the baggage in and out of his car matches his suit and hair, although I'm not likely to ask him anytime soon.

I have copies of all my paperwork and medical records and I can tell you for sure that my files, although extensive, did not take up that much room.

He hauled that sucker in for effect. "Look at me! I am a high priced corporate attorney! I am important! I carry large amounts of paperwork everywhere I go! So much paper! Must have wheels!! Hey! Look at me!"When he sat down, he sat in the right hand seat at HIS table, too.

Which means that when I'd have to move to the table, I would be seated next to him instead of next to an empty seat, which a gentleman would have recognized as a possibly uncomfortable situation.  Of course I wasn't dealing with a gentleman. I already knew it.

So Humanitarian sat next to where I was supposed to sit.
Anything to be intimidating, I guess.

Although I was already giggling internally about his suit and hair matching and snorted and had to cover it with a little cough when his trouser legs hiked up so far I could see his bony old man ankles.

So the judge said something like, "Good that you could all make it, nice to see you all here today."

I said, "I wish I could say the same."

Humanitarian barked.
Then I realized he'd laughed.
He said to my attorney for my benefit, "Does she know I'm not Mr. Philanthropist?"

It went over her head, but not mine. Which was his intention, I'm sure. He said it again a minute or so later, can't remember why.

He just wanted to make sure I knew he'd been paying some poor Schmoe to read my blog. I'm sure he didn't stoop to reading it himself. Too self-important for that. 

Now I've never been in court before for anything. Live a good clean life, don't speed, don't break laws... had no idea how things proceed.

My attorney sat down with me before the hearing and told me what questions she'd ask of me, but really didn't tell me much of what to expect beyond that.

So I didn't know that everything up to a certain point was off the record.

Humanitarian raised an eyebrow when he saw that there was a person in the room who did not need to be there. Eric.

"Your honor," he said, "I was not informed that there would be any witnesses."
My attorney turned and looked at us, then back at the judge.
"I have no witnesses other than the claimant." she said.

After the pompous remark to the judge about drawing the short straw by getting stuck with my case, Humanitarian wanted to play.

There was some wrangling. He wanted my attorney sanctioned for a frivolous case because one of his damn doctors who performed an "independent" medical exam had become confused between the left meniscus and right meniscus and lateral and posterior tears. Shit, I lived through all of it and it's confusing to me.

Evidently, there was a piece of paperwork that didn't get properly filed or some damn thing and he wanted that 'taken care of,' suggesting that it was frivolous and all but waving his arms and announcing it to the world. To listen to his gravelly voice you'd think it was as important as the 10 commandments.

I have to say though that I was impressed with his ability to sound commanding yet grovel at the judge's feet at the same time. I'll bet he's a real peach at home after having to maintain servility all day when he's attending hearings.

My attorney said that she had no comment on the possible error and would research it later.

She did not say it had no bearing on the case in front of us, but her attitude did. I was impressed.

There was much sorting of paperwork. Even with that big scrapbook case Mr. Statesman brought to court with him, he somehow hadn't managed to have copies of all the things he needed. My attorney politely supplied him with copies of this and that, the judge got copies of other stuff, and they all sat around labeling stuff. Exhibit 123a and 123b and 123c and 123d... I could go on and on.

They sure did.

I sat, holding Eric's hand.

Mr. Statesman was indignant that Dr. Slice and Dice, the surgeon who operated on my shoulder and did the ACL repair wanted six thousand dollars for his deposition. He was quite angry that it seemed excessive and much more than customary. He turned to my attorney and demanded to know how much she'd paid for the deposition.

She did not have that information at hand.

Eric and I exchanged grins, because to me it sounded like Dr. Slice and Dice just didn't want to talk to him. I found it amusing.

Finally, there was a lull.

Then the judge asked both attorneys if they were ready to begin.

Shit. Begin? I had no idea we hadn't started already!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of starting, when I sat down to write about this I had no idea it would take so long and that I'd have so much to say.
There's a lot more.

And I'll continue it later.

I'm kinda pissed.

Eric went to get the mail on Sunday. (We forgot the mailbox key on Saturday and didn't think about getting the mail.)

In the stack of stuff were three envelopes from my attorney.

Instead of keeping YOU in suspense, I will tell you that those envelopes contained nothing of great importance.

More stuff that went into my file, that's all.

Still waiting to hear about the outcome of the legal wrangling over what should have been a simple and straightforward on the job injury claim.

Of course I had no clue what was in the envelopes when Eric handed them to me on Sunday, and was practically incapacitated by a rush of anxiety so large that I had to sit down.

So there we were on a Sunday afternoon, with these envelopes. Now in case you're new here, or you haven't really been reading what I say, I have some moderate to severe anxiety. For some really odd reason, it has ramped up about tenfold since all this work comp crap started.

Yes, I am taking medication, and it helps. But I suspect the medication I really need hasn't been invented yet.

For those of you keeping track, I injured the knee in January 2011. It's now May 2012. And the opposing side would have been perfectly content to let me continue to live with the torn knee until someone forced them to take care of it.

So I took care of it myself. Am I sorry? No. I'm glad I got it fixed, it's made a huge difference in my life and now they can drag their feet as long as they want, my right knee is fixed.

Statesman was the one who showed up in court in his little plaid-and-smeg-colored suit (I found it hilarious that his hair matched... well it didn't match the plaid ) and he all but groveled in front of the judge.

You've seen it on TV... and yep, it really happens. He wondered aloud how the judge 'drew the short straw' and got stuck with my case.

I thought he was unctuous and oily and servile and I'm really glad my contact with him was limited.

I was sorely tempted to take his photo from my perspective in the room.
I'm sure his suit cost more than my car.
Shitting on the little guy pays pretty well from what I understand.

But when he sat down, he looked like a guy from the 1920's wearing these:

Sorry to disappoint, but there is no way in hell that
Mr. Statesman filled up the front of those pants anywhere close to this photo.
Image stolen from here: knick

They came up to his knees and you could see his bony shins and brown suit socks. He was wearing brown shoes. I'm sure he paid someone to coordinate his clothing. Whatever he paid, it was way too much.

Stress? Is that it?

I have been fighting a headache off and on for two weeks.

In the past couple years or so, most of my headaches have been hormonal, and I can almost pinpoint when I'm going to get one. Unless of course my cycle is wacky, and since I am a 51 year old woman, my cycle IS a little wacky.

So I've been trying to decide what's causing it this time.

Of course all the work comp crap is still dragging on and on. Those stupid people would have saved themselves a boatload of money to just take care of me in the first place.

Now that I've taken care of it myself, I regret not doing so sooner. I am walking. Not limping. Not lurching.

I knew before the numbing agent had worn off post-surgery that they'd fixed the tear. The part that hurt me for a year was no longer hurting.

Of course I had some pretty horrendous pain for a few days, but a meniscus repair isn't anything like the agony of the ACL, and I was off the crutches in fairly short order.

We have a new manager at work. She is an okay person, I don't have a problem with her on a personal level, but she's kind of a micromanager. Most of us have been handling things for ourselves for the past eight years, and doing pretty well at it. There have been annoying little changes, and I'm certainly willing to admit that there's always room for improvement, but I'm not fond of paperwork. I don't have time to mess with paperwork during program time, and we're not allowed any planning time outside of ratio, we're supposed to do it while the kids are there.

I'm not the only person who ends up doing the paperwork by showing up a little early and working off the clock, or doing it at home in the evenings or on the weekends.

I'm simply not willing to take time away from my kids to dink around with nitpicky paperwork, so I don't. I'd rather donate my time to the company, I guess.

I'll end up talking with her about it eventually, but I'm waiting for the right opportunity to do so.

Also, she's a person who equates learning with teaching, and isn't familiar with translating everyday activities into educationalese.

Doing that translation is not just a trick to make our activities look good, though. It's truly the way kids learn best. She just doesn't understand the concept of learning through play. This isn't a character flaw or a shortcoming, it's just that she's had a lack of opportunity to see that kind of learning in action, something I saw all the time as I homeschooled my kids. It bothers her that she sees kids playing a lot when she visits our programs.

Thinking back to spy week and the codes and cooperative learning and problem solving and chemistry and following recipes and art and physical activity... well, yeah. We did not sit down and read those things from a book, instead we were active and pursuing learning with enthusiasm.

I'm willing to bet that most of the kids will remember our activities for a long time. They've sure talked about it a lot.

It will stick with them a lot longer than worksheets and teacher-guided forced learning.

I just hope I can find the right words when the opportunity to say them presents itself.

Meanwhile, I plan activities and continue to do things my way, hoping that it will all just.. work out.

I think that no matter how lovely the educational program is, no matter how many experts have planned the curriculum... if the kids aren't happy, the parents will take their business somewhere else. And my kids are happy. Sunshine's kids are happy. Brashley's kids are having fun, too. We have a lot of thriving programs, and I think our company would be smart to dig into the reasons why.

Do we do educational stuff? Constantly. We all learn every day. From sharing things we find in the amazing books I have brought in, to their speeches they're practicing for their classrooms, to pulling out the bionicam and looking at microscopic things, we are truly learning all the time.

Hm. Prices for everything going up. Anyone noticed that?
Of course no one's wages have kept up (unless they're one of the assholes elected to public office or a career criminal aka work comp attorney.. ha). I sometimes worry about where things are going to end up. We have an unsustainable economy, spending more money than we earn every day. Borrowing from the future. Not smart. And it causes me stress. More so because there's not a single fucking thing I can do about it.

Oh sure, I vote. I believe that most important races have been decided long before people go to the polls, and that voting happens because they're trying to keep the rabble unroused.

I still vote for the same reason some people go to church and believe in God. Just in case. (not intended as a slam on religion... really. I just think that some people don't really believe, but pretend to just in case... I mean, who wants to go to hell?)

What else. Hm.
Oh. The vehicle is getting old. We're going to have to get something else to drive, partly because Lyssa will need something to drive, and partly because gas is going to do nothing but go up and I still drive 160 miles a week to and from and to and from and to and from work. Right now, it doesn't make sense economically for us to have a different car, even though the one we have is a gas hog. It's old enough that even with comprehensive coverage, towing, rental car etc the insurance is still very affordable. Even with gas prices, it's still about $250 a month to drive. That's not bad. But it IS getting old. It's a '97. We're going to have to start putting money into it, or into something else.

So of course that's on my mind, too.

There's more. But I've gone on long enough and don't want to dredge up more.

Anything on your mind?

Success... well, mostly.

I will post some photos for you and tell you the whole story tomorrow.

I realized, though, that I've been feeling pretty decent... and sometimes have a tendency to think I can do too much. But it has only been 9 weeks today since the knee got sliced and diced, and it is still healing.

So it's a little tired and achy and a bit swollen this evening. Will ice it and rest up for tomorrow, since I don't take time off work when things hurt. Otherwise, I would have missed the last year of work. :)

One of my friends brought his kids and taught MY kids some Yoga. Presented it as strength training/preparedness for a career as a spy. The kids ate it up. Had a BLAST.

We ran around the school doing a scavenger hunt, solving clues which had been written in code and hidden. Each one had to be found and solved so they could figure out where to look for the next one.

And instead of me telling the story twice, I will stop there and head for bed a little early this evening.

Reese told me a story today, (and I can't even remember it) one of the variety where you present a story and ask a question and the listener is so caught up in trying to figure out the answer that they don't realize you've given them incorrect information.

Like this old one.

A jumbo jet with 300 passengers crashes and explodes exactly on the border between the USA and Canada. Where do you bury the survivors?

He guessed Canada AND the USA.

And I said, "Reese, you don't bury survivors. It would make them mad since they SURVIVED the crash."

He thought it was great. And spent the rest of the evening going around the room and asking the other kids the same question, delighting in telling them, "You don't BURY survivors!! Geez!!!"

But in this case, we are going to bury the survivors of the afternoon... my left knee and my right one.

And give those poor suckers a respite.
Was gonna say break, but PLEASE... no more of that shit!!!

Chop Chop

Like I said, I finally got tired of my knee hurting me.

Got tired of not being able to do anything without pain.

It was affecting so much more than my sleep.

Because of the year of limping, my feet got horribly painful.

The podiatrist I saw because of that pain told me that the limping and listing had affected the tendons 'pretty seriously'.
Yeah.
Pretty seriously indeed.
Is but isn't a separate issue. Slowly resolving.

So after getting a few recommendations, I made an appointment with a hotshot Orthopedic surgeon. I did not take the MRI with me, or bring along any records. I wanted someone to look at everything with fresh eyes after I had a chance to explain everything that had gone on. I did not want some other asshole to dismiss me without listening.

And after the exam and an explanation of what had been going on for a year, they ordered copies of the MRI films and told me to come back in a week.

Went back in a week later, they said, "Well if you look right here," and pointed at a spot on the MRI for me, "You can clearly see the meniscus is torn. It looks like it might be torn on this side over here, too. No wonder your knee hurts! Now, what to do about it?"

And after they checked with my insurer, they found out that due to a changeover in the system, if I wanted to get the knee fixed, it had to be either right away or after the first of the year.
 
I think that was a Thursday.

And the following Wednesday, I was once again sliced and diced. Things moved pretty fast for a person who likes to plan way ahead, adding to my already extreme levels of stress, but you know what?

I was just DONE with the knee pain.

I'm really reluctant to miss work, but sadly I know from experience that recovering from knee surgery is not a two day process.

I ended up missing eight days of work with my kids, but had the customary four week knee surgery recovery period because of the school closure during most of December.
I wanted to minimize the time I'd be away from my kids and my job, so I chose to spend the holidaze laid up and hurting.

Home with my family while they helped take care of me yet again after a surgical procedure.
I was able to return to work when school reopened in January.

I had to use up all my vacation time so that I'd be able to keep my health benefits and help with keeping some groceries on the table, too.

Pisses me off that I had use up all my time off when I got hurt at work, but by now we all know that work comp arbitrarily decided nothing was wrong with the knee and certainly wasn't going to pay for any disability, time off or surgery.

Things could be worse. I may have had to take care of things myself, but I can now sleep through most nights.