Trying for it

I'm attempting photojournaling this month as part of a Reclaiming the Home project. The idea is to photojournal 30 words in 30 days, beginning June 1. I can't promise I'll post daily, but I'm sure going to try.

Before I begin, I would like to add the caveat that I have a very ill-behaved camera. We're trying to work through these issues, but it doesn't like bright light. Therefore my shots will be much less spontaneous than I would like. I'm hoping some day to be able to afford a much better camera. There may be days when video happens, rather than photos, because my camera hates sunlight.

That said, this is our word list.

heart
love
joy
home
happiness
serenity
hope inspire
create
illusion
strength
comfort
peace
unity
beuty
ancestry
silence
technology
sustenance
crafted
persistence
light
contentment
purpose
full-circle
small
natural
history
relaxation
handmade
solitude

Check this space often for what I can come up with.

Memorial Weekend (so far)

We had a good weekend here. Yesterday, my friend Chad and ClaireElaine drove up from Ft. Wayne, about 2 hours south of here. We had a picnic in the park and then came home to socialize. Tessa really had fun with their sons, Topher and Xander, although Xander got tired and cranky by the time it was time to go and tried to lock himself in Jack's crate. :-)

Path of destruction

Done with his day--going to bed?

My friend Vicki's daughter Noel won passes to Allskate, the local skating center, and invited us and many of our friends. This is Tessa with her "twin" TJ, trying to help him skate:

Ow! Falling hurts!

And with Coley, her friend and Noel's brother, discussing how rude some of the other skaters were!

Sk8tr Grrl

After Allskate, we went to Jeremy's sister Jessica (& her husband Justin)'s new house. My camera is having issues with pictures in bright light, so here's a video of the Davis "clan"--I think everyone is in there but the videographer (me).

13.4%

13.4% is the current unemployment statistic for Jackson County, MI, according to this Jackson Cit Pat article. Is it little wonder we've begun contemplating moving out of state? I like Michigan, and I like my hometown...mostly...but I have to admit, I'm getting weary of it.

It won't end there, either. Sparton Corp. is closing soon, and the article mentions many other "temporary" shutdowns planned for this summer. How temporary will they truly be? How far will this stone plummet?

Nearly everyone I know is on some sort of supportive care, whether it's food benefits, medicare or some other means of government support. It's sometimes enough to squeak by. And those not on benefits aren't squeaking at all.

More and more people are in the library, daily, looking to file for unemployment, build a resume, post craigslist ads, and filing for state benefits. The state is just about out of money, and so there are tons of cops on the street--you can't go two blocks without seeing someone pulled over in an effort to raise funds. But they're "raising funds" from people who simply don't have them.

It's so discouraging. And yet well-meaning friends and relatives still ask whether J's found work, or has any prospects. They ask whether we're solvent. The fact is, we don't know. We're doing as well as can be expected, but everything is so uncertain, and not only for us. Right now we're staticly treading water, holding out hope for times to pass and get better, and doing as much as we possibly can to be ready to make a move if the need arises.

So if you see me, please assume that if I'm smiling, it's a good day, and don't make it bad by asking about us. If I'm not, assume it's a bad day, and don't make it worse by making me dwell on it. Just love me and let me be--and remember that I will always take care of my husband and daughter, no matter what it takes.

Oh, and if anyone DOES feel the need to help--I really could use some help cleaning out my basement and attic, and frankly every other room, to rid of excess clutter so that if we are forced to leave this house I won't have to pack so damn much. Thanks.

Sweet Peace

How I often feel about living in Jackson, MI during this nightmare of a recession. A smart, moving tune by wonderful, talented women. A prayer for peace.

Avila--the Wailin' Jennys (Click for music/video)

Oh sweet peace, never have you fallen

Never have you fallen upon this town

Oh sweet peace, never have you fallen

Never have you fallen upon this town

The black crows are loaded

With the call of things discarded

The ribboned shard of battle

And everything burned

Have they forgotten we live here

Do they think that we gave up

Lay down and grew over

Weeds at every turn

Oh sweet peace, never have you fallen
Never have you fallen upon this town
Oh sweet peace, never have you fallen
Never have you fallen upon this town

I will not rest

Until this place is full of sunlight

Or at least until the darkness

Is quiet for a while

And we will not wait

For that murder to come calling

The night will simply fall

And the morning will rise

Oh sweet peace, never have you fallen
Never have you fallen upon this town
Oh sweet peace, when will you be callin'

When will you be callin' upon this town

Goodbye, Good Man

Dear Gary,

Like my peers, I simply cannot believe you're gone.

I hardly feel worthy of mourning you. I was in only one class. I was never in your plays. I never even tried to be that girl. I was the hanger-on, the theatre-rat-wanna-be, the one who "married into" the wild and crazy theatre family you helped form. We were not close, but there was not a soul who knew you who wasn't impacted by you in some great way.

I have few personal memories of you. More of them are of the collective memory variety, of hearing stories told by my husband and friends. I knew your personality, and some of your history. I heard a share of your war stories. You taught me the basics of theatre, reinforcing what I'd been taught in high school and bringing a newer perspective to it. I did not know you well, but I respected you, worried about you, cared about you, and loved you in my way.

There are a couple things I remember. I remember your concern for me when I was having some health issues that were affecting my balance. I remember you telling me to "sit there, don't move" and asking me for my word that I would not move off the stool. Fast forward a few years: I remember the way your face just lit up when you realized I was with Jeremy, we had married and were expecting our daughter. You were as proud as a parent, happy for both of us for finding each other.

Thank you for your patience and caring. Thank you for your warm heart. Thank you for being not only endlessly entertaining, but also tremendously attentitive to each of your students. You will be sorely missed--and I think I speak for many when I say that while a little of the magic of this world has gone out with you, the residue of it remains and will resound for generations to come.

Blessed to be your student,
Mandy

First week as a "real" LVT!

Handsome Jack!!

So this was my first week in clinic. All in all it was a great week. I worked 7:30-3, Mon-Th, and let me tell you--I was so tired at night, I barely made it til 9:30. Last night I actually hit the deck at 9 and this morning didn't wake til 8:30, that's how exhausted I was!

You really work for your pay as an LVT. Most of your patients are going to fight with you, not verbally (usually), but hey--who wants strangers in pink scrbs coming and "hugging" them while other strangers poke needles in them? Sounds like torture to me, and they generally think so too. Thankfully they're a forgiving bunch, and generally by the time you wake them up from anesthetic they don't care anyway.

We had dentals and knee surgeries every day this week. The dentals, with only two exceptions, were something that I did--5 total in 4 days. A dental for a dog is like what a dental hygenist teeth cleaning would be for a person. You set up the machine, wear goggles and a mask to avoid bacteria, put on gloves, and start cleaning the patient's teeth with a scaler and then a polisher. The main difference, actually, is that before you do all that, you have to surgically sedate and intubate your patient, and while you're working on them you have to keep stopping to check vitals to make sure you're not sedating them too deeply. Techs are allowed to do everything surrounding a dental except for extractions--one dog I worked on lost 4 teeth. She didn't have that much to start with and ended up with a grand total of 6 left in her head. Please, brush your dog's teeth with doggy toothpaste 2-3 times a week! Jack loves his.

Knee surgeries are cruciate ligament repair surgeries. Just like with people, dogs can tear the ligaments around the knee joint. This is terribly painful for the dog and must be repaired surgically. The surgery for this is EXTEREMELY expensive, so many owners try to medicate with pain meds before having it done, which means more work for the surgeon, which means longer time under anesthesia for the patient, which presents a greater risk for problems--you get where I'm going with this.

Anyway, I assisted in a few of these surgeries this week. We had four total. Yesterday's was the most interesting and the most gruelling, since the dog in question had completely worn away all cartalige in the knee and it was just bone-on-bone inside of that joint. The surgeon used a product I'd not heard of, a wash that was meant to be a replacement for the synovial fluid in the joint. He had the assistant (not me, I was leg holding) flush the whole area around the joint capsule with the fluid before he closed it. He also roughened the edges of the bone in an attempt to stimulate cartalige to re-grow on the space, and maybe make things better for the dog.

While repairing a ligament, the surgeon has to really wrench hard on the suture material he's using inside of the leg. The knots must be tied securely, since this material is what is taking the place of the dog's ligaments and won't be removed. The technician (me this time) has to hold the leg extended while the surgeon is wrenching and wrenching on this leg--it's hard work! Then I had to stablize the suture material with a hemastat so that the surgeon could tie more knots to hold the suture material in place.

Anyway, those were the cool bits. I also ran tons of bloodwork, administered meds via injection and orally, and helped hold a few sweet patients as they reached the end. The euthanasia's are always sad to me, because this is a life extinguished, and life is a precious thing. This is someone's companion, someone's friend, someone's comfort. The ends I saw this week were very peaceful, one minute there, then gone. I petted the little bodies while the lights went out, and listened to heartbeats continue, speed and stop before saying "ok, we're done." Then on the other end of the room, I was able to go and play with a basket of labrador puppies--the cycle restarted, in a way.

It was a good week, and I'm looking forward to more. I'll be there 1-4 afternoons a week, and my responsibilities will mainly be seeing patients for small things like nail trims, helping doctors pull blood, running bloodwork, administering evening treatments, and so on. It'll be good, I think, though I'm a bit nervous at being the only tech on duty at those times. I'm going to have to be especially aware of what is going on so that I know where I can be used, because they're not used to having a tech available at that time of day. But all in all it will be good, though I'm glad to be still at the library as well.

Traumatic & Dramatic

Last Summer, after losing her first tooth.

Tessa is a very, very high spirited child. When she is happy, the whole world is wonderful; when she's sad, it's "the worst day of her life." There is no in-between with her. It makes our job as her parents challenging sometimes. She's not a spoiled child--at least, no more so than the average "only" child--but she is very "set in her ways." If she decides not to cooperate with something, it will be easier to move heaven and earth than to get her to go along with what you're doing or wanting her to do.

She's at the age where she KNOWS how much it sucks to be little. She knows her freedoms are few and that most of her life at this point is comprised of following directions--of her parents, her grandparents, her teachers--and her choices are few, generally comprised of "A or B" instead of figuring out for herself what her options can be. She realizes she has limitations, and it just really ticks her off.

This last week has been especially challenging. She had a run-in last weekend with an overzealous puppy, and that left her with a scratched up face. Then she had a tooth that she didn't want us to take out--when she finally let us, it slid out no problem, but it was very difficult getting her to let us. Now the tooth next to it wants to come out but is still very much attached on one side. We can see the big tooth wanting to come in, but that one side just doesn't want to let go.

Instead of letting us try one more time to take it out, she threw a HUGE hissy fit. We just couldn't get her to calm down. After nearly an hour, I finally got her calmed enough to see how unreasonable she was being, and she apologized to both of us for acting that way and finally let her dad check out her tooth. We let her know that we loved her and that we weren't angry, just hurt at the way she'd acted, and that we forgive her anyway. The tooth still won't come out, so if it doesn't come tomorrow J will be taking her into the dentist for professional help. She's lost computer priviledges for two days for her behaviour.

The sweetest thing was when she was sent up to bed. She was glad to go--she'd worn herself out with stress and crying and all manner of dramatics. From her room, we heard her tearfully saying something but couldn't work out what it was--whether she was talking to herself or ranting or what, it was in a completely ranting tone of voice. Finally I understood one clear word: "Amen." She was just pouring her little heart out to God, and I am so glad that she knows that she can do that without fear or judgement and that it is a comfort to her. I'm sorry that we had to go through such a traumatic evening--but I hope that the take away, of putting our troubles in His hands, is what she gets out of it.