My Husband is (Almost) Always Right!

Date Night, some kind of fancy Japanese variety...I think "Chopped Chocolate." We also ordered a mint chip shake to take home to Jake (his favorite) since he was home alone. We're cool parents like that.

I love this man. He is very wise. He knows me well. Well enough to know what my hangups are...and to tread lightly when addressing them. Take my perfectionism, for example. He doesn't roll his eyes and tell me to lighten up or get over myself. He goes about it like this...

Cliff (sweetly): "Can I talk to you about something?"

Me: (thinking, 'uh oh...he's using the voice...what does he want?') "Of course!" (Read: "As long as it's something I want to hear.")

Cliff: "Sweetie, I think people back home want to read about what we are doing now more than they want to read about what we were doing five months ago, just for the sake of keeping the blog in chronological order. Couldn't you just dedicate yourself to starting now to keep up...and then go back as you can to catch up the rest?"

I start thinking, "But that won't work! People won't like that! It will be all out of order! If they aren't subscribed to read it on Google Reader, they'll have to go over to the archives on the side bar and try to figure out what they haven't read and it will be inconvenient."

But then I realized, I'm probably the only one who cares if it reads in chronological order. And if people care enough to keep track so they won't miss a post, they probably already subscribe, even if in secret. (I know some of you do that, and I don't mind. I certainly don't do all this to keep a count of people who follow the blog.) OK, so my mom doesn't subscribe, and she's my biggest fan...but I'm going to teach her so she doesn't have to keep checking here every day, in vain. Love you, Mom!

And for those of you who DO read this in Google Reader, I know that regardless of the date I start the post...in Reader, it will show the date that I hit the "Publish" button. Since that will be confusing, if those dates are not one in the same...I will list the date each post occurred at the beginning of the post. Sound like a plan?

If you like it, you can thank Cliff.

Now I have to go so the shake snake can get on this computer to do an assignment he procrastinated. None of the others will work for his geography CD. I can NEVER get on this computer...and even when I think the coast is clear, five minutes later a kid comes in needing to get on for "an assignment." The irony? It's my computer! *sigh* It's a good thing I love them.

Royal Wedding

I brought home a special treat from Hawaii. (Besides the dark chocolate covered macadamia nuts.) A wheezing, hacking cough. It started subtly on the plane, but has increased to the point that walking from my room to the laundry room leaves me winded. I know. I just did it. My lungs are screaming.

Also, Cliff left town for a conference, which has only compounded the suckage. I think it will be good for him, though. He needs some down time. After the conference, he's going to go spend some time with good, old friends who I am confident will give him the TLC he is in need of. I wish I could go too. I could use some TLC.


Instead, I watched this. (An actual photo of my TV screen.) I don't know if you've had this same experience...but my Facebook newsfeed has been lit-up with people saying things like, "What wedding? Someone is getting married?" or "who cares about a blanking royal wedding" or disparaging comments about marriage in general. It's almost like they think the hating will make them look edgy and cool or something. It doesn't. It's just boring. If you don't want to watch it...Don't. There you go. I happen to think it is romantic. And it's watching a piece of history in the making. Maybe it also has something to do with feeling like I found my prince twenty years ago? I don't know. (Have you seen Cliff in his dress blues? Insert tongue trill here.)

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed the diversion. It reminded me of my mom turning on the TV back in 1981 to watch Charles and Diana's wedding. Until that moment, had no idea there were princes and princesses outside the Wonderful World of Disney. My little mind was blown.

I'll take a royal wedding over most of the garbage on TV any day of the week and twice on Sunday. I just wish I could have watched it with my prince. He probably wouldn't want me to cough on him anyway and would go play XBox Madden Football. Come to think of it, I don't think it would take wheezing to drive him out of the room if I turned on the royal wedding. That's OK, he's still my Prince Charming. I wonder if princesses get sick?

Museum, Mongolian and Good Fortune

Poor Jake gets so bored. I feel sorry for him...but not so sorry that I relish leaving the room and dealing with this:


You wanna know what's worse? Crawling along in this parking lot, realizing...you missed your turn...and that it would cost you at least an extra thirty minutes of drive time. Awesome. It was about this point that I asked Jake if it would be OK with him if we just stayed in the hotel room the rest of our trip.



Drive with Aloha, my eye. I've got your Aloha, right here!



We finally made it to our destination, The Pacific Aviation Museum.



Pshhh...this map makes it look so much easier.



If only every road led to our destination this way.



What displays they had were very well done, but the museum was much smaller than we imagined.



I mean, this looks like just one wall in Jake's room.



After the aviation museum, we went back to the room to wait for Heidi's call. She had offered to take us to Hickam AFB for Mongolian BBQ tonight. What a beautiful location. (Unfortunately, my camera was not cooperating and would not focus properly...I think because of the steam...but you get the idea.)



Brandon is Jake's age. Jake immediately relaxed and enjoyed visiting with him...and Brandon was so considerate...all of the kids were...in helping Jake with anything he needed. It was such a lovely evening and I'm so grateful to Heidi for making the effort...with 6 of her kids!



Oh...and I can't make this stuff up. This was the fortune from my cookie. While not actually a fortune by definition, I think it was pretty apropos, don't you? I know I will never forget Heidi's kindness.

Happy Birthday Patrick!

Guess who's 17 today?

While missing birthdays is commonplace for Cliff, the closest I've come to missing one of the kids' birthdays is having a can't-miss event scheduled the same night. One more reason to not like being here.

I told Patrick we'd celebrate when we're all together again...and Cliff offered to take him out tonight AND when Jake and I return. Turns out, Patrick made plans of his own with actual cool people. I guess it's better that I'm here and not subject to such rejection first-hand.

(Happy Birthday, Mr. Hotstuff!)

More Hospital Craziness...and Lessons Learned

Let me start this post by apologizing for all the drama lately...but oh my goodness, this just keeps on going! I hope to be back to our regularly scheduled shiny-happiness ASAP. If you want to check back in when the coast is clear, I'll totally understand.

This morning started out bright and early. 6 AM-Rounds for the residents. I didn't sleep half bad in that fold-out chair. Neither did Jake, apparently. Unfortunately, this meant he slept through a dose of his pain meds. This didn't occur to anyone until, 6:30 AM-Pain spike. I was so grateful we weren't dealing with this by ourselves in the hotel room (and by we, I mean me). Of course, if I had been dealing with it by myself, I would have set the alarm to administer the pain meds. Just sayin'. Anyway, it was pretty brutal. I don't handle my children's pain very well. It seemed like it took forever to bring back under control, but it was such a relief when he was resting comfortably again.

After the surgeon's visit to check on him, I got the impression we'd be staying another night, just to make sure his pain was under control. The OT and the social worker both stopped by and went over his needs in those areas. I was given instructions and handouts to secure the "must have" shower chair, Jake was issued his crutches and taken on a bit of a scary trial run (with his IV catheter still in his arm)...and a rental wheelchair was ordered. At this point (just after noon), I decided Jake was probably in a good enough place that I could go back to the room and shower and change. I hooked him up with a Harry Potter movie and made my way up the hill. (Knowing there would be no parking in the hotel lot, because hospital staff also use it, and also knowing my front-lot hospital spot I had scored the night before would be gone if I left it...I opted to just walk back and forth.) When I got into the room and started to gather my things, I realized...I had no clean clothes. A much needed shower and two loads of laundry later, I was headed back down the hill to see how Jake was doing.

I logged back in and spotted the shiny new wheelchair outside his door. When I entered the room, I saw that we now had roommates. Jake was kind of upset I had been gone so long. I told him I'd be back in just over an hour and I'd been gone for three. I felt bad, but what could I do? His movie was over and the nurse had started another for him. He popped back in to check on Jake, and said that he heard we'd be headed home soon. I was confused, so he called to have one of the residents come back up and talk to us.

The {15 year old} resident arrived about 20 minutes later. She said that since he'd been fine since this morning's pain episode, he was OK to be released. The surgeon had really made it sound like we were staying another day, and frankly, I was scared that his pain wasn't going to be managed via oral medication. I explained that the OT had insisted we have a shower chair and that I hadn't had a chance to go out and get it yet and was hoping to do it while he was still in the hospital, so he wouldn't be left alone in this condition while I scoured the island for medical supply stores. Instead of being concerned about...or even acknowledging this predicament, she said, "Well, the OT didn't say anything about this in her notes." Blank stare. I wanted to say, "Yes, I'm just making this up. This entire 30 minute dialog I had with the OT, her insistence it was necessary for his safety, how Tricare didn't pay for it anymore, so I'd have to pay for it, the list of places to look which I held in my hand...yep. I'm totally making this up."

Finally, I just said, "By releasing him now, you are in effect, saying he's OK to be left totally alone in a hotel room while I not only find this chair, but while I go out and get all of our meals, since he's supposed to be in bed for the next five days with his leg elevated above his heart, other than to use the bathroom and shower. So is that what you are saying? Because I'm not thinking he's ready for that." She didn't even blink. "He'll be fine." (looking at Jake) "You're not going to do anything stupid, right?"

On one hand, I SO wanted to be out of there, on the other hand, I kept visualizing the story my neighbor told, of our other neighbor whose child had a similar surgery {same hospital}, they under-medicated him, and she had to leave her screaming, vomiting child back in the room with a hotel employee while she raced back to the hospital for adequate pain meds. This whole system just seemed so crazy! Hotels are not hospitals...and patients don't have adequate support, removed from their communities! But what did I know? Apparently, Jake was ready to care for himself.

So, the resident left and the nurse came back to tell us we'd head down the the cast room for Jake's overwrap before they discharged him, but that they had said they were pretty backed up and asked us to wait about an hour. (The surgeon had left his cast cut open, up the middle, to allow for swelling. Now they needed to wrap more of the cast material around it, to harden it into a regular cast.) About an hour later (5 PM) a nursing assistant took us down to find the cast room deserted. No one in sight. She managed to get someone on the phone who paged someone who came in and wanted to know who we had talked to. He was the ortho tech on call, and he knew nothing of this. When he looked Jake up in the computer system, he discovered that the nurse on the floor had mistakenly placed the order with (and spoken on the phone to) the casting room of the ortho clinic at Schofield Barracks...nearly an hour away...instead of the casting room of the ortho clinic downstairs in the same hospital. *Facepalm*

The ortho tech wrapped up the cast. Jake had now decided to have white wrapped over his previously chosen, hunter orange...guess he was bored with it already. It was now after 6, and Jake's foot had been down WAY too long, so we hurried out to the lobby. I fished in the pocket of my backpack where the keys should have been and they're gone. I search through all the other compartments...nothing. I mentally retraced my steps and realized, since I'd been walking back and forth between the hotel and hospital during Jake's stay...I must have left them back in the hotel. The nurse offered to call the hotel shuttle, but couldn't get a hold of them...and I was doubtful they would even come after hours. So, I determined it would just be quicker for me to walk across the hospital parking lot and up the stairs and across the hotel parking lot and back, than it would be to wait for a shuttle. I think I mentioned these stairs before.



You can't really see all of them here because they turn to the left and keep going...but there are 103 steps here. While I realize this might be someone's cardio-fantasy...I hate stairs. And when I was about 3/4 of the way to the top, I kid you not...out of nowhere it started pouring down rain. I had had it at this point, and started sobbing...and since I was also out of breath, this was not easy. I looked up to heaven, and said, "OK...what is the point of this? What am I supposed to learn from all of this?" I was just feeling kicked while I was down, and just wanted to get my kid back into his bed.

When I made it to the room, the key card would not open the door. Now I was really crying, and digging through my bag for another, and hoping I was alone in the building. I finally found one that worked. So, I started searching the room but couldn't see them anywhere. I remembered I was wearing my jacket last night, and I was betting the keys were in the pocket...only the jacket was nowhere to be found. It was now going on 6:30, and I was panicking. I called back to the ward to see if maybe I left the jacket in the room...maybe it had fallen behind something. They couldn't find it either.

So, I did the only thing I could do...I prayed and headed back down to the hospital, empty handed. I walked by the rental car to see if for some crazy reason I had left it unlocked with the keys inside (which I would never do) but it was all secure with no sign of the jacket, either. As I walked back to the front of the hospital, the nurse was waving her phone at me, saying, "They found your jacket with the keys inside!" Since it was taking so long, she had called up to the ward to get the phone number for my room. They told her I had just called, and that they had found the jacket wrapped up with the linen and someone was running it down. Hallelujah!

Just then, who should walk out the door, but the surgeon. He was very surprised to see us, but I gave him a nutshell run-down of all that had transpired, and he just shook his head in disbelief. He pointed at Jake and said, "That young man needs to get his leg up in the air...because that cast will act just like a tourniquet." I told him we were working on it, that someone was headed down with the keys as we spoke...but wanted to say, "Now tell me why it was so important that he be released tonight...AFTER business hours...leading to all this craziness?! WHO'S plan was this?!" But I was just so grateful to be getting out of there, I refrained.

As we were driving back up to the hotel, I remembered that Heidi was supposed to come visit us earlier this afternoon. I wondered if something had happened, and if she would show up, just to find us gone. I hoped that they'd at least steer her in the right direction if she did show up. Jake was really starting to feel the pain and I was eager to get him pumped with some more drugs with his foot elevated. He did not like the loopy feeling of the oral meds at all, but I was just glad to see him resting and not in pain. It was now after 7, and I had had some cookies to eat this morning, and that was it. The shower chair was going to have to wait for tomorrow, but we needed dinner now.

Just then, the phone rang. It was Heidi, apologizing for not making it down earlier...her day was pretty crazy. She asked how things were going, and I gave her the rundown of the latest misadventures. Then she said, "But...it worked out so that now I'm headed down ALONE (did I mention she has 7 kids?) and I just thought I'd pull over and call you to find out if you've eaten yet? I'm by a bunch of different restaurants." I wanted to cry. She had totally thrown me a lifeline. She listed what she saw, I picked Chili's and told her what we'd like. Then she asked, "Is there anything else you need?" I told her that the only other thing we needed was that shower chair, but that I'd just look for it tomorrow. I told her the OT gave me a list of medical supply places, but she had said that I should try Long's Drugs first, because if they had it, they'd be the cheapest option. Then Heidi said, "I'm sitting right in front of a Long's Drugs." And it just so happened, that she knew exactly what we needed, because she had had surgery and had needed one, too.

That one phone call had changed my entire outlook. I had felt completely alone...like we had been sent across the ocean to totally fend for ourselves. The "powers that be" who sent us over here, really didn't seem to care if we had a decent place to stay, or how things turned out in the end. It felt like I had to fight within this system for everything and could take nothing for granted. But after I hung up the phone, I heard clearly in my mind, "I will not leave you comfortless." Maybe no one in this big government bureaucracy really does care what we're going through or what our needs are...but someone more important does. I have a Father in Heaven who meets my needs perfectly...and he will not leave me without comfort. That, my friends...is the lesson I needed to remember (as I looked toward heaven in the pouring rain). That is the take-away number one.

Heidi arrived in what seemed like no time at all, with delicious smelling food and the exact shower chair from the picture. As much as we needed the food and the chair, I needed the spirit which she brought even more. While Jake rested in the other room, we sat at the table in mine and just talked and talked. It's hard for me to express how uplifting the conversation was. It felt like medicine. I appreciated the opportunity to get to know her (more than the breaks and wives' luncheon at Chaplain's Conference usually provide). I will never forget what an angel of mercy she was to me...and it was obvious as we discussed the events of the day that led up to her being in my room at that moment (instead of earlier in the day at the hospital) that this was no coincidence.

Lesson number two came to me earlier today. I am just a visitor here in medical purgatory. I have friends who LIVE in this world...who are never going to be done with this as long as their children are living. I can't even imagine what that is like...and I'm so grateful that my stay here is temporary.

Lesson (or reminder) number three was that God answers our prayers through other people, sent on his errands...and that all of us have the ability to be angels of mercy to others. I pray that I can be the type of angel to someone else that Heidi was to me today.

Surgery Day

Our day started out bright and early. No need to make time for breakfast with Jake's NPO status, so that bought us another thirty minutes of sleep. I was absolutely dreading going through the two-hour, pre-op appt. With good reason. I spoke to my friend Heidi about it last night, and she said it's not a pleasant experience. You are just basically shuffled around from room to room, signing in at each station to wait to have things explained to (and questions asked of) you. {Heidi's hubs is an LDS Army chaplain and we've gotten to know them through our October conferences over the years. They are stationed here.}

As soon as we arrived on the floor, I realized something. With all of the craziness in the clinic over the past couple of days...at least no one was rude. These nurses behind the counter on the surgical ward were just plain mean and nasty. I seriously wanted to ask if they were always this rude to people, or if I was just special. I was yelled at twice for standing in the wrong spot. I'm not kidding you. It's not like it was obvious or intuitive...I was just following the signs. {"Oh...I'm sorry, Nurse Ratched...this says 'check in here for surgery.' I didn't realize there was ANOTHER 'check in here for surgery.' Sorry I picked the wrong one."} When we got to the station where a nurse does the vitals and creates the chart, etc., we found out she hadn't gotten the memo that Jake was to be admitted (not an outpatient). This would mean a totally different chart and set of forms. She was obviously ticked and couldn't get a hold of the Dr. to confirm...and just got more ticked that no one would return her page. That was fun.

After several stations, Jake had his gown, robe and slippers and knew how to use them. We were finally in the last waiting room, ready to speak with the anesthesiologist. Into the room walked Heidi, her husband, and a military Sr. missionary couple. I can't even tell you how wonderful it was to see their shiny, happy, friendly faces. What a blessing! Right behind them came the anesthesiologist, so they waited while we met with him. He was absolutely delightful. Jake couldn't stop cracking up at his iPod playlist. I'm guessing because the music was right off the set of Soul Train, and he was Caucasian and obviously not even yet born in the 70s. While Jake found it amusing, I was thinking, "I could seriously be friends with this guy."

When we came back into the waiting room, Lee (Heidi's husband) mentioned there was a meditation chapel just around the corner. We went to the counter to tell Nurse Ratched and Co. that we were just going to go around the corner to the chapel for a few minutes, and she went into overdrive with "WHERE are you going? WHAT is the patient's name" in a tone usually reserved for someone who has just thrown your bike in a ditch. I couldn't help it, I turned around to Heidi and said (so anyone could hear me), "Do you see what I was talking about?" Strangely enough, her demeanor changed...as if I had just held up a mirror to her behavior.

In the chapel, we were able to shut out all of the craziness, rudeness and anxiety...and just focus on peace and each other. Lee and the Elder gave blessings to Jake and me, which was so helpful. Cliff had given us blessings before we left, but with all that had transpired, it was so nice to be brought back to center again. After a few minutes, they left...promising to come visit again tomorrow...and Jake and I made our way back to the waiting room. About 15 minutes later, a nurse came to lead us to the OR.

This is where Jake started to panic. "I'm not ready for this...I'm not ready to give up walking yet!" Hearing the panic in his voice was heartbreaking...but we had come this far, and needed to just push forward, so I just stayed calm and told him he could do it, it would all be OK. Jake got gowned-up and climbed into his bed to wait for his turn. In a matter of minutes, the surgeon came out and talked to us for a few minutes. Then the anesthesiologist tried to start the IV. Even though they had put patches on his hands to numb the skin, Jake panicked some more at the thought of the needle. He offered to give Jake the mask instead, but warned the gas had a very strange smell. Jake wanted him to describe the gas, but he had nothing to compare it to. {Jake later described it as a cross between BO, diesel fuel, onions and cilantro.} Then Jake wanted to know if he was going to dream. Then he asked how many people were going to be in the room.

By now, I'm getting the feeling Jake is just looking for ways to stall. He opted for the mask, and then the anesthesiologist asked Jake if he wanted ME to scrub up and accompany them into the OR and wait until he's asleep. I know Jake really doesn't need this, but of course, he agrees to the suggestion. Unfortunately, by this point it's after noon, I haven't eaten anything either, and I'm starting to feel sick. The thought of being in the OR makes it worse. I've just been waiting for them to wheel him in, so I can eat something and take something for my headache before I start dry heaving.

Luckily, Jake was understanding when I explained that I was feeling sick and needed to take some medicine, and agreed that I should just walk him to the OR door. I followed them to the point of no return, kissed him, told him I loved him...turned around and {surprise} started to cry. It was just a tension release, I'm sure. I knew he was in good hands...knew he was going to be fine and that this was for the best...but it was still stressful.

While I waited, besides getting some miso udon noodle soup and taking some Motrin, I went and got the temporary handicapped placard for the rental car, and picked up a little something for Jake to cuddle with when he woke up:


What can I say, he's not the teddy bear type.

I was only back in the waiting room for about twenty minutes when they came in to get me, so it wasn't too bad at all. Jake spent two hours in recovery...he just wouldn't wake up. It was actually not too different than any other morning. He's always been a sleeper. The surgeon said things went great..two incisions...one on the foot, one on his calf, just above the ankle, to lengthen his tendons (which should improve his poor range of motion). Jake was now the proud owner of a dead guy's foot bone. How many kids can say that?

As I watched him stir, trying to fight his way out of his sleep, I had a vivid flashback almost twelve years earlier, back to the day (a week into his PICU stay) he was finally being allowed to come out of his drug-induced coma, with the hope that they could try extubation. I was dangling a necklace, back and forth, over his hand...trying to tickle him awake. I'll never forget the moment his eyes finally fluttered open and he tried to focus on the charms and moved his hand to grasp them. When he saw me, a big smile flashed across his face...but then his little face quickly crumpled into tears (but he couldn't really cry around the vent). Back then, we were only sent about an hour away to the nearest major military hospital, for what ended up being a two week stay (although a much scarier one). Now we are thousands of miles from home for almost twice that long...but again, just the two of us.



Jake at six months, during his PICU stay after contracting Infantile Botulism.


Anyway, as he did get more wakeful, he started expressing lots of regret...wishing he had never agreed to the surgery. He was complaining about numbness in his leg (turns out he just didn't realize the cast was what was keeping him from feeling the sheets) and pain in his good heel (maybe from the way it was resting during the surgery). Finally, he was awake enough for us to head up to the pediatric ward.

They have been really wonderful up here...and it is such a relief, I can't even express it. Why can't everyone be this lovely to deal with? I'm so glad we are staying the night. When I think about having to take him home in this condition, it just blows my mind. He's so groggy and anxious. Luckily, the chair folds out into a bed that is actually comfortable, so I can stay right here with him. (Beats the recliner I slept upright in,back at the PICU). There are three other beds in the room, but we have it to ourselves, at least for now.

Goodnight!

Do they allow beach camping here?

Beach view from Koko Cafe at the Hale Koa


Because the Stuart family motto is "Nothing is Ever Easy" (seriously...it's in Latin, right under our family crest), Cliff forwarded me an email from his command yesterday (not directed at us, just FYI for the entire, major command), including a new order regarding the aerovac program from Okinawa. It explained how people were "abusing" the program, that medical escorts weren't authorized just because someone wanted a family member present (they were only to be authorized for legitimate medical need) and then went on to explain the accepted procedure for securing lodging.

As I read it, my heart sank. Obviously, under the circumstances, Jake needed a medical escort...so I wasn't worried about that. But their explanation of the lodging process made me very nervous. The lodging options they listed were very similar to the packet of information the aerovac office at the hospital gave us. We were supposed to try all of the on-base lodging options first, before trying to find something out in town...but said we should shoot for finding accommodations priced at practically HALF of the allowable rate. Then they listed a bunch of "suggested" options for hotels in Honolulu that had rates within the per diem lodging allowance. The options were almost identical in both the order from Cliff's command and the packet of info from aerovac. With one exception...they said that the Hale Koa* is not considered government lodging for aerovac purposes and should only be considered as a last resort of the off-base options...and that travel reimbursement could be denied otherwise. (And while aerovac secures the medical appointments and the airline tickets, the command provides the orders and pays for the travel.)

In making our reservations, I followed the outlined procedures to the letter. I checked all of the on-base options first, and none of them had availability (which was no surprise...if you're going to Hawaii...you want a combination of the cheapest and safest option available, so all those rooms get snatched up far in advance). Then I went down the list of options for off-base lodging, which were not ranked in order of preference...and the Hale Koa was included. I had no way of knowing what any of the other accommodations were like...if they were in a safe area, if they were roach-infested or smelled like ashtrays. I went with what I knew...the Hale Koa. Unfortunately, they charge the maximum allowed government rate when you are there on orders (which is why the command is wanting us to avoid staying there). The thing is, once you add all the various taxes and double the parking rate...most of those other options are brought within 10 or 20 dollars of the Hale Koa rate, anyway. Making the known entity even more appealing.

I went from feeling safe and secure...to now having to worry if we were even going to be paid for this medical trip if we stayed in our current hotel reservation. We have a terrible history with {the broken system that is} government travel, anyway. We are still waiting for the last payment of over $1000 for reimbursement for a trip on orders six months ago. We've experienced first hand that "Murphy" works for the government and his law is more of an order, really...so I'm not willing to take any chances. So, in addition to checking every single on-base option AGAIN (at the rate of 50¢ a call, charged to ME, thank you very much) with no luck, I started looking at the off-base recommendations. The first one listed was a Best Western by the airport. I have driven by it. There is no way we're staying there. I learn my hunch is correct while talking to a friend who stayed there when her family first arrived here. They had several items stolen, including having their car broken into. It's no secret Honolulu has high crime...and it was not making me feel very good to think that more consideration was being given to saving the government a buck than the safety and security of my family. I mean, I know we're not here for a vacation...but the military SENT us here for medical care they couldn't provide at our duty station, for crying out loud!

So, I started looking up online reviews of some of the other hotels, and the outlook didn't get any better. Street noise, wild parties, theft, lack of secure parking, roaches. This is what our command had in mind for us. Nice. I was pretty sick over it at this point...feeling like we were sent over here alone to fend for ourselves (under already stressful circumstances), without any regard to whether we found a safe place to stay, knowing we are going into this blind. It was bad enough we were having to front all of the expenses ourselves and wait to be reimbursed, but now this? It just seemed like there should be some sort of "sure-thing" lodging close to the hospital for families who are aerovac'd here. They do have a Fisher House (like a Ronald McDonald house, but for military hospitals) but it is reserved for families of long-term, critical patients. We needed a safe, handicapped-accessible room for almost a month, for about HALF of the local, government allowed rate in order to both meet our needs and make Cliff's command happy. Pssshh...no problem, right? I prayed and racked my brain for solutions.

This morning, I started to go through the routine with all the on-base options again , in case there were any cancellations. When I called the Army lodge behind the hospital, initially I was told they didn't have availability for as long as we needed, but in talking to her and explaining our situation (including our need for a wheelchair accessible room) she asked me to hold on. When she came back, she told me she was able to get us in. I don't know how...and she assured me no one else was going to be bumped out on the street...but suddenly, we had a room as soon as we wanted to check in! We're checking in tomorrow, and it is such a relief. I can't even tell you what a weight off my mind this is. The more I think about it and the stories I've heard, it really is nothing short of a miracle.



Since we had this problem solved, we decided to grab some lunch and hit the beach.



Jake had the Sleepy-head Special (basically breakfast with a side of fries)...



And I had to most glorious club sandwich I can remember. Look at those chips...all of them almost burnt. Like a dream come true.



Jake had a great time playing in the surf. He tried snorkeling with the equipment he brought...but quickly learned the beaches here are not like Okinawa's. Too wavy. He did spot a sea turtle, though. That was cool.



He decided to build a wall of sand to stop the waves, instead.



Then buried himself, since I wouldn't.

{Trivia: Did I mention I hate sand? I do. It's dirty. I am also sun-paranoid. I firmly believe pasty-white with freckles is the new tan. So I sat, trying not to make contact with the sand, arms covered by my windbreaker, and read The Hunger Games (certain I could feel the sun burning through my SPF-50) while Jake played blissfully.}



It's a good thing I love him.



What a gorgeous beach, huh? I can't wait to come back here for an actual vacation. Right now, however, I'm thrilled to be moving to a less scenic spot, without the 30-40 minute drive each way to the hospital...and hefty price tag (that we might have been forced to eat).

I'll miss this view of the grounds, though...



Even if I won't miss the scheduled, 11:30 PM, glass-recycling dump right outside my window each night.


*Hale Koa is a military hotel and recreation facility run by Army Morale, Welfare and Recreation. There are several such facilities around the world, designed to provide nice, affordable accommodations for military families at popular vacation destinations. Rates are on a sliding scale, depending on status and pay grade. Unless you are traveling on military orders (even medical ones)...then they sock it to you. Dumpster-view rooms...ocean-view prices.

The Saga of Jake's Feet...Pt. 1

Jake hanging out with Chester, after his turn at piano lessons.

About two years ago, we started noticing that Jake walked strangely. Other people started noticing it, too. Also, he was wearing out his shoes in an unusual way...basically, the insides would sheer off so the soles of his shoes were slanted inward.

We set up an appointment for him to see the podiatrist. He agreed that Jake was not walking normally, and told us he was extremely flat footed. He took some impressions to order a set of custom orthotics. When those failed to improve his feet, his wife (also a podiatrist) cast his feet for a more precise measurement. We gave this set of orthotics about nine months. By this time, he was going through a pair of shoes a month, and could not spend much time on his feet without pain. He went from being an active kid, running around the neighborhood...to a kid who spent most of his time indoors. When Jake became a Boy Scout a year ago, he had an extremely difficult time with the hikes. A five mile hike sent him to bed for a couple of days. An hour of racquetball with the Scouts meant being out of commission most of the next day.

In November, we contacted podiatry to set up another appointment, and learned that since there was a new podiatrist, we'd have to wait FOUR months, because Jake was now considered a new patient. I threw up the BS flag. Jake was not a new patient, the Dr. was a new (to us) Dr...and whatever kind of coding they needed to do with their whacked appointment system was irrelevant to us...we were not waiting another four months to be seen. Of course, I didn't use words like "BS" or "whacked"...I just thought them...and asked to be transferred to the head nurse, and firmly but politely listed the steps in my proposed course of action, including getting Cliff's command and the patient advocate involved. Only then did the nurse review Jake's record and found the magic words, "good candidate for surgery." {Thank you, Doctors Frank!} Based on this information, we were able to get in two weeks later, and the Dr. went off of the other doctors' recommendations.

Since we are limited in some medical services here, Jake would have to be sent to Hawaii for the surgery. Four months later, we are finally making our way across the ocean for his appointment. It's a bit of an odd arrangement, though. Since the type of surgery Jake will receive is "surgeon specific," the podiatrist could only give us a brief overview of three possibilities...but very little info on what would be involved as far as recovery, etc. Also, we have to be prepared to stay for weeks, but we may very well be only meeting with the surgeon for an initial visit, and turn around to come back to Okinawa and wait to return to Hawaii for a future surgery date. It is so weird to be going into this blind on so many levels.

Well today, it got weirder. Since we are supposed to leave on Monday, we were instructed to come into the aerovac office today at 3 to pick up the airline tickets. We knew something was wrong as soon as we walked into the office. Apparently, 30 minutes before we got there, the Air Force decided no more aerovac tickets would be issued due to the precarious nuclear situation in mainland Japan, and the fact that all flights from Okinawa were routed through there. We asked to be sent through another country and they said they weren't prepared to do that. We had waited SO long to get this surgery consultation...at this rate, we'd be waiting at least another 4 months, setting back his recovery into the next school year.

I won't drag you through all the "firm but polite...with a hint of desperate" dialogue that followed...including their admission that only the Air Force was adopting this policy, not the other branches of service...and the fact that we were welcome to buy our own tickets and go on our own (so it's safe if we drop our own money, but not if the military pays for it?!). The pieces just weren't making sense. Finally, we left with our e-tickets, and the admonition that although travel through mainland Japan was not recommended, I was an adult and could make my own choice. {THAT'S what I'VE been trying to say, thank you very much.}

So now we are on our way...hopefully. Still a little gun-shy after today's adrenaline-filled meeting, where all of our progress went flashing before my eyes. I'm just praying they won't change their minds about letting me make adult decisions before Monday. After our horrendous experience with government travel back in October, where Cliff almost didn't make the plane, I am all too aware of the fact that government-purchased e-tickets can easily be turned off.

Here's hoping we're Hawaii bound come Monday morning!

Finals week

School just might do me in this week. My final project is due for my computer class tomorrow night, and it's a doozie. Especially the Microsoft Access part. Can I tell you how glad I am that my life's work does not involve accounting? Just sayin'.

Here, Charlotte is lending moral support for my Power Point presentation. She thinks I need to add more custom animations. I find them annoying, but whatever.

Anyway, as soon as I'm done with this, it's on to my next algebra assignment, also due tomorrow at midnight. Three more weeks until that class is over, for better or worse. If I can average a C, I'll be thrilled. Also glad my life's work does not depend on algebra. It's more of a hazing ritual these days, I think. Personally, I'd rather pay someone the big bucks to take care of any math needs that I may have.

{C'ya later...I'm goin' back in.}

Introducing...Apollo

Finally! After months of sharing my car with a college kid (which some days makes for a logistical nightmare) we got a new (to us) vehicle!

I don't get how this happened...but remember cute O'Malley? MY darling green machine? Well, somehow, he ended up being the KID car! How did this happen? Well, in a nutshell, Cliff's van died shortly after he last deployed (yep, we paid $1000 + several hundred more $ in repairs to have it die in 4 months time. Awesome.) When Cliff got back and we replaced his van with Lopez, it only took him a couple of days to figure out he couldn't drive him to work. He couldn't even fit him into his parking place, which you have to make a sharp, narrow turn to get into. Lopez's handling is just too weird. So, Cliff ended up with O'Malley and I got Lopez. Did I mention the aero-kit, which makes Lopez look like a low-rider (hence, his name)? Well, just driving that on the streets every day has caused the bumper to crack in several places. It looks charming. That, and it has a racing suspension on it, which causes you to feel every bump. SO, rather than getting another little car for Troy, Cliff felt compelled to buy himself something they could take camping, and pass O'Malley down to Troy....and I'M driving the barriomobile. Seriously?! Not that I'm totally resentful or anything...I am grateful Troy is in something small and easy to maneuver...even if that's what I wanted, too. At least I'm back to having a vehicle of my own. So, without further adieu, I introduce you to:



Apollo. The 4 WD mini-van. It's a Mitsubishi Delica. Wonder why these haven't caught on in the US? We hear they are popular in Australia, though. It seats 8, with the 8th seat being a collapsible jump seat attached to the middle row, that you can't use if the middle row is facing the side or rear...but at least it gives us the 8th seat when we're in a pinch.



Perfect for Cliff, since he's such an outdoor playa.

Now don't you think I should AT LEAST get new bumpers?! Sheesh!

What to do while waiting for your car

Troy had a little accident with Lopez. He was off base, backing out of a driveway and he backed into and scratched a local's car. He was pretty freaked out about it, but it went pretty well, all things considered. He called us, we told him to call the number for the military police on his driver's license and they came right out and everyone was nice and professional. Unfortunately, even just a scratch can be several hundred dollars these days.

So today, I had to go drop off Lopez with our insurance carrier (which is also part of the business where we bought the van) so they could look at our damage (which is too hard to distinguish from the damage we receive each and every time we drive our van around this island...every bump and dip cracks the bumper anyway...but don't get me started on how much I hate the dealership that sold us the van) and also so we could give them the accident report for the other insurance company. I had a bunch of time to kill while I waited for them to be done, or Cliff to come pick me up, whichever came first. What else is there to do besides take random pictures of stuff? So I walked next door to Lawson, to see if there was anything new and interesting for breakfast.


Of course there was. Ritz crackers with mozzarella and basil. Only in Japan.



My opinion? Not bad...if you're into processed cheese food. I won't be back for more, though.



I love the elderly here on Okinawa. Especially the ladies...they always have a smile and seem to have very full lives. I took this very quickly, and I don't think the effect is quite captured here, because the car she is next to is one of those mini-cars...but she is tiny. She's about the size of a six year old. I know it looks like she is pushing a stroller, but that is actually a cart that is common around here. She's pushing her groceries home.



These mirrors are common here. With so many blind intersections, they are essential. See me?



There he is. The man who should really be wearing a plaid jacket so people can see his double-talking self coming.

The story would make one long, boring, spite-filled, blog post...so I won't bother, but I'll just summarize by saying, he and I seem to agree to avoid each other. When I brought back our vehicle to be fixed (days after we bought it and already had the first crack in the bumper just from driving on the streets here) he was FULL of back-pedaling, regarding the things he had said he would do for us. He now blamed it on the port of Naha for allowing the vehicle (that we are by law, not allowed to test-drive here) to be registered with such a low bumper. The port of Naha did not sell us the vehicle, or make us any promises. Mr. Scheister here, did. I nearly blew up in his face, and the more double-talking he did, the more rage filled my body, so I just had to suck it up and walk away.

The funny thing is, I see so many people listen to and trust him. After being in the office and listening to him in action several times...really listening to the crap he is feeding people and they are eating up...I have to believe they trust him just because he's half Caucasian and speaks English. The irony is, he's been the only non-trustworthy person I've encountered off-base here. Things that make you go HMMMMM.



Here's something much happier...my latest pedicure. Snowflakes for winter.



I heart this picture! It's one of my faves.

The damage? About a thousand dollars to fix our bumper...even though 99% of it is caused by just normal driving here. Surprise, surprise...that's the amount of our deductible for comprehensive. Shocker!

To fix the other guy's car? About $400. That's one expensive scratch. So we opt to pay for it out of pocket (because they say they'll hike up our insurance 70% if we use it to pay for this) and try to find a junk yard to replace our bumper ourselves...and set out to find another insurance company. I am not paying these people (who shall remain nameless) one more dime. *COUGH (Payless Motors) COUGH*

Mandatory Family Fun

This is what a relaxing family vacation looks like...if you're a peeper standing out on the porch.



We had our annual Chaplain/RP picnic last weekend...and in a move that turned out to be sheer genius...the Chaplain Spouses Club (we put on the event every year) decided that this year it would be indoors...and catered!



The reason it was genius (besides food that we didn't have to cook or clean up after) was that it poured down rain the whole day. That would have been a bummer. (Here are two of the geniuses now...peddling our soon-to-be-released cookbook! Get yours while you can and support our charity efforts.)



Something else the geniuses thought of was crafts for the kids.



The little darlings agreed. (Except that snotty one down in the corner...whose kid is THAT?)



Good times.



Who needs real sand when you can build a sticker sand castle and not ONLY get to take it with you...but not have to wash sand out of your crevices the rest of the week? Just sayin'.



It was a great party with some of my favorite people.



Since we don't really need much of an excuse to slack off and/or party...we booked one of the cabins on Camp Schwab (where the party was held) for the weekend. This was the view from our front porch.



This was our front porch.



This is what our cabin looked like.



And this is the beach you can walk down a million stairs to reach.



These are Jake's footprints on the beach...



And this is the lovely sea foam washing them away.



The water was a little choppy, but still beautiful.



And this...this is the last photograph my camera took. I had been standing here awhile, watching Jake and Cliff explore. I timed it just right to get some of the spray on the rock. Lovely, no? Then Jake decided to climb a rock just to the right of and a little bigger than this one. There was a tide pool on the top of it and he wanted to see what was inside. I came up behind him and held my camera up in the air over his head to photograph him looking into the tide pool. Then it happened. Out of nowhere...a huge wave. It washed over the rock, over Jake, over me, over my camera. Pain. Suffering. Devastation. Sadness.

I have SO many great memories with that Canon. It's the nicest one I've owned. I had planned on upgrading to a Rebel next...but not for another couple of years. I cried over this camera...and I've NEVER cried over a material possession in my life. (OK..there was that time back in the 90s I thought I lost my Day Runner...but that thing had my whole life in it!)

So for now, it looks like I'm stuck with the little dive camera. Oh, the irony...if I had just brought that one in the first place!