Pardon Me While I Get Up on My Soap Box

We weathered (HA) the Storm of the Century just fine here in Aberdeen.  We didn’t even lose power.  I attribute that to the fact that we spent the entire day before planning for the storm by taking everything out of our basement in preparation for the flooding that might occur if we lost power.  The lights didn’t even flicker.

My heart goes out to those who lost so much in the storm.  Wide spread devastation breaks my heart.  But I have a bone to pick with the national news that has covered the storm.  Devastation was NOT limited to New Jersey and New York.  Parts of Delaware, Maryland and the Eastern Shore of Virginia were deeply affected by this storm.  Entire communities on the Eastern Shore of VA were wiped out.  W-I-P-E-D out.  As in, there no more.  As in gone.  The beach at Assateague Island – gone.  I’m so saddened by this.  That was MY beach.  That was the beach where I took my grandkids.  Where I sat with my sister for hours watching the waves.  Where we walked and picked up sea shells.  Where we could watch the ponies.  It’s gone.  I’m not just talking about a board walk or stores – I mean the BEACH is gone.  Washed away.

The entire island of Chincoteague was under water.  Multiple businesses have been affected.  Saxis?  devastated.  Guard Beach?  Gone.  Nothing but a bar of rocks in Atlantic now.  Thousands of men dedicated to working the water their entire lives have been devastated by this storm – their boats ruined, their fishing gear and crab traps washed to sea.  Elderly were trapped in their homes and were not saved.  And no help from the federal government.  I’m sickened and saddened by what has happened to those close to me.

My family comes from the Eastern Shore of Virginia.  We have a vacation home there.  I have family there.  I have friends there.  And I’m screaming because no one is coming to help them.  But you know what, they are banding together as a community – activating the word through the wonder that is social media, through word of mouth, and through close-knit communities.  They are pulling together to help themselves.  People are donating time, money, equipment, physical labor, clothing, food – you name it, they need it.  And this makes my heart smile.

We Eastern Shormen have always been a hardy bunch.  People have lived on the Eastern Shore of VA since the 1600s.  I know, because I trace my family back that far.  You can’t wipe us out that easily.

It will come back.  Stronger this time.  You can’t put a shoreman down.

And just maybe, when you are contemplating having some oysters on the half shell for your holiday noms, they might be a hell of a lot harder to find this year.  Because the people of the Shore are too busy putting their lives back together by themselves.


Happens Every Time

Every single time my husband goes out of town, I have some kind of injury to myself or a disaster befalls the house.  Every. Single. Time.  And it’s frustrating.  One year, when he went to my step-daughter’s over night to help her do something in the house, my left knee blew and I ended up needing surgery.  Another time he went away (again to my step-daughter’s), I sprained my wrist AND the basement backed up with sewage.  It never ever fails.  I’m doomed to have disaster befall when my husband goes away.

This year, I planned ahead.  I took time off from work last week, and arranged to work from home yesterday and today because our dog is so spazzy when she’s left alone that I knew if I left her for 10 hours during the day, she’d either chew herself up, or eat one of the cats.  And that’s not something I’d want to come home to.  I felt relatively safe this time with Bob on his annual hunting trip.  I was going to enjoy my vacation from my husband.

And I made it from Friday to Sunday afternoon with no disaster.  None.  Went shopping with my girls…saw my mom…got some christmas crafts done…it was all good.  Until Sunday afternoon.


I got back from my mother’s, and put the dog inside.  I went back outside to unload the car, got off the front steps, took two more steps, and boom…..

I went down.  Right in the front yard.  I don’t know what happened, or how it happened.  But I went down.  On my knee.  My freshly repaired knee.  The one I’m supposed to be really careful with.  The one I’m not supposed to kneel on.  So, I didn’t technically kneel.  I more like crashed on it.

I’m sure the neighbors are wondering where the crazy shrieking was coming from.

So, my knee is ok…I guess.  It’s a wait and see kind of thing.  You see, the donor cartildge I had put in takes 18 months to grow in.  And at this point, I can still do some very serious damage to it.  But as I said, it’s wait and see.  It’s too soon to know if I did any real damage.

My pride, on the other hand, is quite wounded.  And I have a boo boo.

Mother Nature, You Are a Bitch

I am SUPPOSED to be enjoying my last day at my beach place, but thanks to Irene, we came home yesterday.  Of course, the Eastern Shore is under mandatory evacuation.

So, our vacation was eventful, even though it wasn’t supposed to be.

We got down to Virginia last Saturday with our friends in tow.  They are looking to buy soon, and wanted to see what Trails End was like.  We showed them around and then visited with my sissy for a while.  We went to the dance that night (which I spent on the sidelines, since, well, I can not dance right now) and enjoyed ourselves.  We spent Sunday and Monday not doing much of anything but relaxing and reading, which was lovely.

On Tuesday, we decided to go to the pool in the afternoon.  After lunch, we packed up and headed up.  It was a gorgeous day and the pool was lovely – not crowded at all.  We found a table, and I even managed to get in and out of the pool so I could exercise my leg.  About 1:50, we were both sitting at the table with our noses in our books.  I felt someone shaking my chair, and I turned around to see who it was.  Only it was no one.  Um…  I looked over at my husband, and he was looking at his chair funny, and then we looked at each other.  I said, “Did you feel that?”  He says, “Yeah – must have been a strong wind gust.”  Only the wind was coming from the other direction.  I looked around to see if anyone else had felt anything, but no one had, so I chalked it up to wind.  Then I checked Facebook on my phone – and everyone was posting, “Did we just have an earthquake?”  I knew it!  Sigh.

We were also watching the weather report with the anticipation of Irene.  We decided Tuesday night to just hold off and wait until Friday morning to make any decisions.  By Thursday morning, it looked as if we were definitely going to leave by Friday morning.  By Thursday at noon, they had posted signs around the campground to evacuate (keep in mind, we were in Horntown, VA, which is in Accomack County, on the eastern shore of VA – which is right in the storm’s path).  It was a voluntary evacuation.  We decided to tie down the popup and the picnic table and to head out Friday am.  We had tied everything down and were taking a nap when security knocked on our door.  “Have you heard there’s a storm coming?” 


Yes, yes we have.

“Are you leaving?”

Right now?

“Well, do you plan to leave before Saturday?”

Yes, we’re leaving first thing Friday am.

“Ok – people who stay will be pretty stupid.”

Ya think?  Seriously, like I want to weather a hurricane in a 1953 travel trailer with no toilet.  Um, no.

So, we got up early yesterday, packed up, and headed home.  We’re now sitting here on the sofa, watching the rain and wind pick up.  We have power, and satellite, and internet, so we’re good to go so far.

Hope everyone is safe.  Here’s a picture I took about 5pm tonight…

And here’s how my family is spending the afternoon…

I’m Being Held Hostage By My Knee

I have to get out of this stupid house.  Not like I can do anything if I do get out, but lord have mercy this house is swallowing me up.  Eating me alive. 

I do get to start working again on Wednesday.  But it will be here in the house.  IN THE FUCKING HOUSE.  I miss being able to drive.  I miss getting out.  I miss being able to do things on my own.  This sucks, Yo.

And I wanna see Harry Potter.  Big time.

I Believe You Have My Stapler?

So, today was the big day.  I got to get my staples out.  All 25 of them.  And two stitches.  I got through the first five and nearly passed out.  Go. Me.  Wanna see?

You know you do…

My Ass is Asleep

So, in a nutshell, knee surgery is nothing less than sucktastic.  This recovery has been hard, yo. 

When I had a microfracture surgery done three years ago on my left knee, the recovery was also sucky and painful, but I was up and walking even before I got my stitches out.  I had two small incisions on my knee, both about an inch in size, and swelling was minimal, except for a big pocket of swelling where they had done the lateral release on my knee cap.  I did a month or so of physical therapy afterwards, and I was back at work pretty much in three weeks.

This time around, things are not going so swimmingly.  This is a different surgery – this time I had a de novo graft on the right knee.  A de novo graft is a new surgery, where they implant juvenile donor cartilage under the knee cap and between the bones.  The doctor also cleaned out a large number of bone spurs, and performed another lateral release of the right knee cap.  And it’s hella painful.  I mean hella painful.  I have a huge amount of swelling, a lot of stitches, and a big old knee immoblizer.  I won’t be able to put any weight at all on the leg for six weeks.  I’m just one day shy of being a week out, and I’m still in lots of pain.  And crutches blow. 

Got the call today from short term – I’m approved through 8/2.  My plan is to go back to work but work from home for the month of August.  My poor boss is really having a hard time – we’ve lost a lot of people, and I do a lot of high level things.  I couldn’t work now if I wanted to.  My leg hurts to bad to concentrate for too very long and I can’t stand to have the laptop even sit on my lap.  We had planned on going to the trailer this weekend, but I can’t see myself sitting in the car for 3.5 hours and then having to hobble across the street to the bathroom.  Maybe next month – we are supposed to go down for a week.  I’m really hoping to be able to go.

I know I know…you want gory pictures of the leg.  I haven’t see it yet myself.  And I won’t until I get my stitches out.  But I promise to post pictures.  Because I care.  I do.

Hey! Know What Sucks?

Knee surgery does.


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