Walking Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

I hate to bore you with more details about my skeletal woes and trips to the doctor, but after all, I am at that age where the topics of conversations at happy hour are colonoscopies and gall bladder surgeries.

I’m a walker, and walking can be hazardous to your health. Most of the time, I power walk, which is quite a feat (pardon the play on words) when you have short, stubby little legs like I do. After one of my walks about 6 weeks ago, the back of my knee started to hurt. Then, as I was stepping down from a stepladder, the nauseating pain riveted down the back of my calf.

Mentally preparing myself for the big one…knee surgery…I visited orthopedic surgeon number one. After two wimpy x-rays, his prognosis was a torn meniscus…no surgery…physical therapy. Ten minutes and $300 later, along with his best guess, I was home icing my knee.

Orthopedic surgeon number two guessed bursitis. After a very painful cortisone injection, a prescription for an anti-inflammatory, and more physical therapy, I went home and wrapped a heating pad around my leg.

The cortisone shot did nothing except form a black, bruised hole on my leg (where the Physical Therapist drew a happy face), and I might as well swallow candy because the anti-inflammatory pills are worthless.

What I really want is an accurate diagnosis, and the ability to walk, free of pain, without shuffling and dragging my leg like Frankenstein. So I made my list of things to do today:

1. Wash the sheets

2. Go to Costco

3. Go to the Emergency Room for an MRI

Me: “I want an MRI on my knee, please.”

ER Nurse: “The Emergency Room doesn’t give MRI’s.”

Me: “But I had one last year when I had my emergency hernia surgery.”

ER Nurse: “You had a CAT Scan.”

Me: “Oh.”

After probably having a good chuckle with the nurse out in the hallway, doctor number three told me it’s probably a torn meniscus, and I will need surgery to repair it

ER Doctor: “In the meantime, here is a leg brace and crutches until your doctor orders an MRI. Oh, and…continue your physical therapy.”

So, back to square one – if only I could find a doctor who will order an MRI for me because right now I can’t walk at all – and the physical therapy is becoming hazardous to my health.

Grocery Store Shopping

You find them all at the grocery store – every body type, every voice level, every age, group, every gender. It’s usually a grueling experience for me.

I have found (sorry ladies) that men who shop for food are the usually the most considerate. Probably because they realize that their testosterone is outnumbered by the amount of estrogen in a 15,000 square foot building by about 99 to 1. They will make sure their cart is pushed to one side in an aisle to let you pass; they will let you go through the check out first if you only have a few items; and they will ask you about which spaghetti sauce you prefer. Men, also, are considerate enough to call the wife to make sure they are buying the right thing – “Honey, do you want the 1% or 2% milk?”

Warning!! DO NOT send your husband to the market for one specific item you need 30 minutes before guests arrive for dinner. Instead of getting a package of wild rice, they will come home with a Betty Crocker microwavable rice dinner in a bowl.

Then there’s the mother who is dragging her 3 children along with her. They are usually trailing behind her as she maneuvers from aisle to aisle, holding up the parade for the other shoppers, and it’s apparent they would rather be anywhere else than at the grocery store. The teenagers are texting, and the pre-teen is whining for every chip and cookie on the shelf.

Then there are those god-awful carts where the kid is strapped in and thinks he’s a racecar driver. Who the hell thought that would be a good idea. Not only do the carts block the entire aisle, but the kid is usually screaming to get out of it. The mother is oblivious to all of this while she decides what soup to open for dinner.

I like the elderly ladies the best – probably because we are closest in age and wear the same progressive/transition lenses eyeglasses. We will stand, shoulder to shoulder, looking at the shelf in front of us for about 10 minutes. Pretty soon we will say to each other, “Do you see the graham cracker crumbs?” “No, they were here last year.” About 20 minutes later you run into them again, “I found the cracker crumbs, now I’m looking for the shoestring potatoes.” “Oh, yeah, I think I saw them on the chip aisle.” We like to help each other out.

Today I am maneuvering my way down the bread aisle looking for hot dog buns. We are responsible for the tailgate party, and I thought hot dogs would be the easiest to prepare. Woops – low and behold, I encounter a Lane Bryant sized woman, straddling the walkway with her cart parked directly in the center. In my most pleasant voice I say, “Excuse me.” She turns to me and says, “I’m sorry. You should have hit me up side the head.” I think this is funny, so, trying to make light of the situation, I say, “Like Gibbs does on NCIS.” We all of a sudden become the best of friends. We stand there for 15 minutes sharing tales about watching NCIS, Law and Order, and Criminal Minds on TV. Then we discuss types of bread that is best for toasting and if our headbands are too young for us. We could barely tear ourselves away from each other. “Maybe we’ll see each other again some time.” “Yea, maybe down the cookie aisle.”

So from now on, I will change my attitude about grocery shopping. I will view it as a networking experience.

Take-Charge Health Care

When I retired I went on the state retirement health insurance plan, which actually is pretty good. However, when I called my primary care physician to make an appointment for my annual physical, his staff informed me that he did not take my new insurance and I would have to find another doctor. That’s great. Fifteen years of being taken care of by the same doctor and not so much as a “Let me refer you to someone else.” or “I’ll do your physical this year, but you will have to find a new GP for your next appointment.” or “How have you been feeling lately?” Nope. Never heard from him. He knew every mole on my body; he poked and prodded personal places my husband doesn’t even know about; he peered into the deepest crevasses of my womanhood. It was as though I was a kitten who had grown up being caressed and cared for by a loving family and then tossed out into the rain to fend for myself. Well, that’s exactly what this kitten has done. I’ve decided to take charge of my own health care.

It’s not hard, really. I had my blood drawn at Walgreens. Safeway gave me my vaccinations. Solis actually called me to remind me of my mammogram (business must be slow). All this is automatically submitted to my health insurance, which doesn’t have to adjust any overinflated fees that the doctor charges, and I receive all the results.

The latest take charge was my visit to have my mammogram. I have always dreaded this procedure because it is not a very pleasant experience having the technician grab your boob, plop and push it on a cold piece of glass, and then squash it between two glass plates in a vice. So I thought of some ways the radiology office could make a woman’s visit more comfortable. First of all, have some quiet music playing, soft lights, and scented candles burning as you enter the dressing room to undress. Instead of those sterile two-foot long capes that drape over your shoulders only to cover half your nipples, they can provide you with a little black lace cover up so you can pretend you are getting ready to meet the man in your dreams. Second, as you wait to be called into the x-ray room, you could lounge in a recliner, sipping on a glass of wine. And third, while the woman fondles your breasts, a sexy man’s voice could be piped through the speakers saying, “Oh, baby, you’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen such a gorgeous body.” After your girls have been violated and you get dressed, a tall dark handsome man hands you a long-stemmed rose as you leave the office and says, “See you next year, Babe.” Kind of makes you want a mammogram once a week, doesn’t it?

Meow – this cat’s going to make it through nine lives as I take charge of my own health care.

Why Do I Teach?

I teach because of the students.  I teach because I love to create lessons that are relevant to students.  I teach because I love to see the light bulbs go on when a student finally grasps a difficult concept.  I teach because it is rewarding to know I am preparing my students for life, work, and success. Students are the future, they need to know what to do with it.

I was a Navy wife the first year of my teaching career.  My husband and I calculated that he was only earning 50 cents an hour, so it was obvious I didn’t go into the teaching profession because of the money.  After graduation, I was idealistic enough to think I was going to have a classroom full of students who would sit and listen to me and gladly do all my assignments.  My first classes were in a junior high school, in Norfolk, Virginia, at the height of desegregation. Having grown up in the southwest, my experience with prejudice and segregation was limited to Walter Cronkite’s reports on the nightly news. 

I quickly learned that I had to create lessons that would be relevant to my students.  These kids had bigger problems in their lives than conjugating verbs and memorizing mythical gods and goddesses: their brothers had just gotten out of jail; their mothers had just given birth and didn’t know where the father was; they had seven siblings they had to cook for.  So I taught the curriculum with the students’ needs in mind.  I had them use the word “jive” in a variety of ways to construct sentences.  I created a drama club so they could release some of their pent-up energy and anger.  So often today, administrators require that their teachers follow a prescribed curriculum and submit minute-by-minute lesson plans.  Do the principals do this in the best interest of the students, or to appease the school district in order to preserve their own positions?  Teachers should be able to use creativity and flexibility when teaching the curriculum thus making it relevant to students and their futures.

There is nothing more rewarding than to see the light bulb go on in a student’s eyes that says, “I understand now.”  The challenge in teaching is to take a difficult concept and present it in a variety of ways so the light bulbs will eventually shine all over the classroom.  Math is not my subject, but I have taught business math in my personal finance class.  Sometimes I teach like I learn myself, and when it comes to math, that may be a little unconventional.  I have found that if a student doesn’t get it, then I change the way I present it so they do get it.  Teachers can’t do that if they are restricted as to when and how something is to be taught.  A teacher is trained in methods and best practices, let them use the tools of the teaching trade, and let them teach.

In the song, Kodachrome by Paul Simon, he sings, “When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all.”  Are we presenting the curriculum in a way so the students can become critical thinkers?  Do the students know how high school is going to help them in their future?  I was lucky.  I got to teach a career class in business.  Every day I was able to tell the students why they were learning something and how they were going to use what they learned in their life and career.  The core academic subjects can be taught the same way.  Today, teachers are teaching so students can pass the standardized tests.  Once the test has been taken, the student forgets most of what they learned.  We should be preparing students to succeed in their personal lives as well as their future careers.

Teachers have a huge assignment.  They need to show students the relevance in their education.  They need to watch for the light bulbs of learning.  They need to allow students to think critically in order to be successful and prepare for life.  That’s why I teach, because students are our future.