09.30.06
Sloth, swathe, whatever!
I present a “sling and swathe” (manufactured by Zimmer or other medical device companies)
and a stuffed three-toed sloth (manufactured by Hansa). Which would you rather wear wrapped around your middle? I’d pick the Hansa, but I’m stuck with the Zimmer for now (albeit in an attractive dark blue – gray really isn’t my color!).
Here’s a company bragging about the ultimate (in comfort) arm sling, and this “deluxe” model at an Irish medical supply web site mentions a terry cloth lining. Terry cloth or a soft fleece would be nice (even more so if the weather warms up again!). But a truly deluxe sling would come with integrated clothing! And a stuffed sloth to keep you company…
One-Armed Bandit
Friday morning I got a call from the urgent care facility. A radiologist had reviewed my x-rays and found a fracture. The doctor I had seen on Wednesday told me this might happen – they don’t have a radiologist in the building so everything gets reviewed. They told me to come back in to get a different sling – a “sling and swathe” – and to make an appointment with orthopedics.
Due to bad timing (why can’t we schedule all accidents for first thing Monday morning?), I still don’t know when I’ll see the specialist, but I do have my sloth (as i will now call it, having initially misheard “swathe”). Because the urgent care is affiliated with a different hospital than my primary care, I spent much of Friday afternoon calling around trying to get a referral and an appointment. To further compound the hassle, the two systems seem to use different terminology for this particular injury, so I feel like I’m in the middle of a particularly bad (parlor) game of telephone. (And yes, i had the urgent care folks spell it for me, so I can’t blame this on my ears!)
From what I understand, my shoulder fracture is in the top of the upper arm bone near the shoulder joint (proximal humerus). Based on a little reading I’ve done, I might be in this contraption for a month. The prospect of surgery is worse, though, so I won’t complain (yet – I reserve the right to start whining in a few weeks!) – especially since my arm immobilized feels much better than my arm trying to move to avoid frozen shoulder.
There are some pretty cool videos of the shoulder carriage in motion at this site (Christopher Evans 3D).
Meanwhile, I’m thinking of changing my halloween costume (from panda) to “one armed bandit”! :*)
09.27.06
The Kindness of Strangers
This afternoon, while biking home from campus, I did something really stupid. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but I think I was signaling a turn with my right hand when somebody stepped into the crosswalk, so I applied the brake – the left brake only. That’s the one that stops your front wheel – the one that you’re not supposed to use alone, because when you do, you fly over the front handlebars. (And as Jonski Papa told me, “that’s why you’re always supposed to signal with your left hand.” Oh! Is that the reason? Who knew?)
I ended up crashing onto my left side, primarily on my shoulder. I immediately screamed in pain, then started yelling “someone please come help me!” Since I was right at a bus stop on a busy corner, there were plenty of someones to help, and they did. Good thing, because I could see busses approaching! (I was about even with the stop sign and have a bright yellow helmet so was probably safe, but seeing a bus bear down on you while lying in the street is no fun thing.)
It took 3 people to get me up – someone to remove the bike (it was on top of me), and one for each arm. My left shoulder already hurt incredibly, and I’m sure my face was contorted in pain. One woman offered me her cell phone to place a call, and I thought 1 millisecond about getting home (2+ miles) on my own (“I could put my bike on the rack in the bus… Nah!”), then accepted her offer and called home for a ride. Another woman offered to stay with me, then walked me and my bike over to a bench where I was to be picked up.
As we were walking, she told me a story of how her father was mountain biking, hit a branch and flipped over twice, and landed with his bike up on another branch. I think this was intended to make me smile, but I was too much in shock for it to really help. When they first retrieved me from the street, this same woman did some ‘range of motion’ kinds of tests with my arm, and told me that if it still hurt in a couple of hours I should have it looked at. I meant to ask what kind of medical training she had, but was too absorbed in my pain.
I cried and shook and tried to do relaxation breathing while waiting for my ride, but it didn’t help much. (I must have sobbed for at least half an hour before finally calming down.) Jonski Papa and I discussed what to do – wait, go to the ER, go to urgent care. He seemed to be thinking something was broken, because he didn’t want me eating or drinking (in case I needed sedation), and was leaning towards the ER. Yet from previous experience, we knew that the urgent care place is less impersonal than the ER, and when they can’t handle the problem they call ahead to the ER and send you over. So I decided to take that approach.
After more arm manipulations and a series of x-rays, the doctor determined that nothing is broken. The pain is probably from the impact and “contusions” (does that just mean bruising or something else?). She predicts I will be sore for some time (and will have giant bruises on my knee and elbow – the knee was scraped more deeply, but the elbow had asphalt and other road gunk in it!).
I’m glad nothing was broken, but feel pretty stupid (on top of the pain). But I guess that’s how many accidents happen, through some momentary lapse of attention or judgment.
On the bright side, I was able to prevail on the kidness of strangers. It was heartening to see that in a moment of need, people sprang to my assistance rather than continuing on their way. I was thanking people profusely through my tears, but I never thought to ask anyone their name. So whoever you are, and wherever you are tonight, I hope you have a warm glow inside, for having helped a stranger. (And if you missed your bus, I’m sorry!)
09.21.06
The Toast Master
We are friends with a family from school that includes a boy (I’ll call him S) who was in the same class as Z-boy last year, and a girl (B) close in age to T-boy. We started a weekly child care swap in the second half of last school year, so the kids spent a fair amount of time together. We didn’t see each other quite so much over the summer, but the new school year – and the fact that S looks up to C-boy’s Lego- and Bionicle-building prowess – has meant more visits in the last month or so.
A few weeks I learned that S thinks I make the best buttered toast in the whole world. He tried to explain to his mom why it was so special – “there are these dents in the bread and the butter pools in it and it’s so great.” They did all sorts of trials to try to reproduce this at home. “Mom, this isn’t quite right. Will you please ask her for her recipe??!!”
You read it here first: once balloting is closed, I’m sure to be acknowledged as the Toast Master of my neighborhood. The thing is, I’m not even sure what my secret was! Probably the bread – we typically buy an “artisanal” bread, so I suspect this fabulously impressive toast was made with sourdough or sesame semolina. Or maybe it’s our toaster oven, with half the heating elements currently out of commission, and a slight eau-de-crum any time we cook in it. And come to think of it, the boys will often ask that I make their toast instead of Jonski Papa – something to do with pre- or post-buttering and the resulting impact on crispiness, so that might have entered into it.
It’s funny how kids think. Sometimes we put out so much effort in making things fun or grand or impressive, and the effort goes completely unnoticed. Other times we can make a piece of toast, probably completely by muscle memory and without even making much effort, and it becomes The Standard By Which All Toast Is Judged.
I know there’s an underlying lesson here, but I not quite sure what it is! It’s not the overly simplistic “kids need your presence more than your presents” interpretation, because let’s face it, I wasn’t really ‘present’ when I made that toast. But little things sometimes make a big impact. How can I pay attention to find more ways to be Toast Master to those around me?
09.11.06
In Honor of Patricia Massari
Nearly 3000 people died as a result of the terrorist attacks on September 11th. Every single one of them had family and friends and neighbors, all affected by a life that was cut short. Every one of those victims had a name.
One of those people was Patricia A. Cimaroli Massari. On September 11th, 2001, she was 25 years old and working as a capital analyst for Marsh & McLennan on the 98th floor of the World Trade Center, Tower One. As mentioned in her New York Times Portraits of Grief profile, she had two important tests that day. In the evening, she was going to take a test in world civilization at Berkeley College where she was studying for Bachelors in Business Administration degree. And in the morning before work, she took a home pregnancy test, and got to inform her husband Louis that they were expecting their first child (read more in this profile at the MMC employee memorial). Surprised by the positive result, she stopped to get another test on her way to work, and was talking to her husband about it on the phone when the tower was hit. Her husband not only lost his wife that day, he lost his first chance at fatherhood. Her parents, Richard and Anna Cimaroli (who appeared on Larry King in 2002, transcript here) lost a daughter and a potential grandchild. The tribute page at MMC features a poem from her husband, along with this heart-wrenching quote:
“I would switch spots with her tomorrow,” he said. “Because then our family could go on.”
Because of the circumstances – that unborn child growing in her womb – she has been featured in many stories and TV shows and at least one book. Her story is memorable and tugs at your heart strings. But even beyond this memorable aspect, there is more to Patricia Massari, more we should remember.
I found two more pictures of her on various web sites.
As her dad said, she had a million-dollar smile. You can certainly see that smile in the pictures. When I look at these pictures, I see a happy, vivacious woman. And vivacious she was, it seems. Glendale, NY, renamed part of a street in her honor (search Google Maps for “Catalpa Ave & 64th St, Queens, NY 11385″ to see it – but note that the map still shows the old name). According to this Times News Weekly news story about the event:
“The unselfish, always happy Cimaroli-Massari, 25, was known for her beautiful smile, infectious laugh and the twinkle in her eye. Friends and family used to call her ‘The Mayor’ because this extreme cat lover had so many friends in her neighborhood.”
She already had an associate’s degree from Berkeley College, and had returned to pursue a BBA. Earlier that year, in May 2001, she had been named the College’s Alumna of the Year. Because of her connection to the school, her family set up a scholarship in her name, as described in this news story. Her parents and husband are shown here with the first recipient and the 2005 recipient is shown in this press release from the college. I don’t know if the scholarship is still accepting donations, but the first two articles have an address for the fund.
Although I never knew Patricia Cimaroli Massari, I feel honored to remember her life by participating in the 2996 project. When I first learned about the project, I started looking at the 9/11 Victims Memorial Quilt (my mom is a quilter, and I’ve made blocks for a couple quilts honoring friends and family). I suppose you could say I was doing ‘vanity surfing’, by searching for names I know (including my own first name). This one in particular caught my eye. The woman’s first name is Patricia, and I noticed that it mentioned “and unborn child”. (I noticed later that the number for her block is 1997, the year my first child was born.) I wanted to know her story, so I asked to be assigned this person. What I didn’t realize at the time was that this woman – Patricia Massari, Trish to friends and family – had been profiled on TV shows and a book (titled 102 Minutes) and numerous newspaper articles. As I did research and her story unfolded, I felt humbled. I worried that I couldn’t do her story justice. But how can those of us who never met these people really do them justice? How can we know of the passion that moved them through life, the things that brought them joy, the things that made them laugh? We can’t. We can’t tell their entire story. We can’t capture the essence of the person. We can direct you to other sources as I have done here, each capturing a tiny bit. But what we can do is help keep alive their memory by knowing their names.
09.09.06
Mangosteens
Today I got an 11th hour call asking me to bring snack to the soccer game. Jonski Papa and Z-boy didn’t get home until minutes before we had to leave, so I had to drop them off then go buy something. Trader Joe’s was the closest grocery store (since I won’t patronize the store with their no-sale-prices unless-you-use our-spyware-card). I joked to the check-out clerk that I was buying for sophisticated first-grade palates: cheese sticks, fruit-walked-into-a-bar bars, and mixed peppercorns. Actually, the peppercorns were for home. But even more interesting, while cruising the aisles just to savor a few more minutes of relative quiet, I came across a bag of freeze-dried mangosteens.
It was the culmination of a confluence of media events, drawing my attention to this elusive fruit. Within about a week’s span, I read about them Brendon’s blog, and heard about them on a Good Food podcast (an interview with the author of this article), so naturally I had to try them.
Since they were freeze-dried, the texture was light and airy and surely not true to the original. The taste did have an element of strawberries, as mentioned. But there was something else, elusive, that I couldn’t pin down.
I mentioned them to Jonski Papa tonight, and he said “oh yeah, we ate those in Thailand. They were purple and came apart in sections like an orange and were really sweet.” I gave him one, and he said something along the lines of “this really does capture the taste.”
So it’s not the real thing, but apparently a reasonable facsimile. Hopefully it will tide me over until I can travel to Thailand!
09.05.06
Back-to-School Treat
In honor of eating seasonally, I made a special treat for back-to-school. What’s in season now? M&Ms, of course! In particular, the “Jack’s Gems” ones that are being discounted as the associated pirate movie wanes in popularity. :^)
I have an M&M cookie recipe but results were not stellar the last time I made it, so I turned elsewhere. Also, I wanted to make bar cookies since it would be quicker. I looked at the bar cookies chapter in one of my cookbooks, but didn’t find any chocolate chip bars recipes to adapt, so I turned to the back of the toll house morsels bag and adapted that.
M & M Bar Cookies
1 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter or margarine, softened
3 large eggs (mine were local! :^)
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 3/4 cups all-purpose white flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 to 1 3/4 cup M&M candies
Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease 15×10 inch jelly-roll pan (or if you don’t have one, combine a 9×12 cake pan with a bread loaf pan).
Beat sugar and butter in large mixer bowl until creamy. Beat in eggs and vanilla extract.
Combine flour, baking powder, and salt in a small bowl. Gradually beat flour mixture into creamed mixture. Stir in the chocolate bits. Spread into prepared pan(s).
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until top is golden brown. Cool in pan or wire rack.
Changes I made:
1. The original recipe only calls for white flour, but I didn’t have quite enough so I topped it off with wheat flour. It adds a nice touch (although at such a low percentage, it probably doesn’t improve the nutritional value much!).
2. The recipe calls for 2 cups of chocolate chips. I only put in 1 3/4 cups of Ms, but that seemed like too much, so I would try 1 1/2 next time.
Here’s a picture of the boys on the first day of school. C-boy is entering 3rd grade, Z-boy is entering 1st, and T-boy will start going to a co-op preschool next week. And yes, they got some of these cookies in their lunchboxes today!
