This Shit Cracks Me Up!

Like many of you, I'm sure, I am a faithful and loyal follower of The Pioneer Woman.

Everyday, sometimes a few times a day, I take a trip to Oklahoma and check in on my friend Ree and her life on the frontier. Today was no different.

I work for a general surgeon. He handles your standard hot gallbladders. The sometimes volatile, thumb-shaped appendix. Those pesky hernias that can pop up in numerous places. Cysts and boils and lipomas, oh my! And...the colon. You know, your poop shoot.

I've never been one to shy away from an uncomfortable conversation, unless it involved money. I don't like to discuss funds. Aside from that, I'll chat with you about anything. Including poop. I mean, everyone poops. There's even a book out there called "Everyone Poops", check it out at the library, I'm sure there's an available copy.

Since I've been working with this physician, I have learned a WEALTH of information on feces and the process our body goes through to expel it. I bet you have no idea the stories your poop can tell about the overall health of your plumbing system! Interested? Let's set a coffee date. I'll even bring a picture book!

So, imagine my excitement when The Pioneer Woman posted about this:

Get it? Poo Pourri!!! Bahahahahahahahaha!!!

And the tag line for the Crap Shooter is "Spray The Bowl First, Guns-A-Blazing, The Smell Is Contained, This Stuff Is Amazing!"

If we're all being honest, we've been in an embarrassing situation where we've left a little evidence behind after leaving the guest bathroom. I mean, despite pooping being a natural act of life, we get silly about it.

So, if you're that self-conscious, visit the crapshooter spray site, pick up a purse-sized bottle and let nature takes its course.

I'm glad I was here to educate you.

Know Your Body Parts

A post-operative patient called in to the office this afternoon. The conversation went something like this (of course, the names have been changed to cover my ass):

Patient: Yes, this is Cornelius Dishwasher. Can I talk to Dr. Warmblood?

Me: I'm sorry but Dr. Warmblood is in surgery today. He'll be calling and checking in before the office closes. I'd be happy to take a message and get back to you once I've spoken with him.

Patient: Yeah, okay. Well he operated on me Monday and I'm out of my pain medicine. I want to get some more.

Me: What medication did Dr. Warmblood have you on Mr. Dishwasher?

Patient: Percocet.

Me: Uh huh...and what type of surgery did you have?

Patient: He took my pancreas

Me: (To myself in my head..."huh...really...well...how 'bout that...huh..."). Ok. Well, Mr. Dishwasher, I'll relay your request to the doctor and get back to you as soon as I can.

Fast forward one hour...

Dr. Warmblood: Hey Joyce. Anything going on? Got anything for me?

Me: Actually, I do...you operated on Mr. Dishwasher this past Monday?

Dr. Warmblood: Yeah. Yep, sure did.

Me: And...you...removed his pancreas?

Dr. Warmblood: (...without missing a beat)... I did and I'm amazed he's doing so well.

Me & Dr. Warmblood: ...sigh...wow...BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The moral of this story...people are stupid (and oh yeah, by the way, YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOUR PANCREAS YOU IDGET!!!)

Why, Joyce, Why?

Last Saturday, November 12, 2011, I ran the Sun Trust Richmond Marathon. I had something to prove...to no one but myself. I had to be redeemed.

I've been training for this event for the last 6 months, starting immediately after getting home from the disaster I like to refer to as Oklahoma. Training for a marathon takes a lot of time, if you do it adequately and your main goal is not only to cross the finish line upright but unharmed. I take my training - no, my health - VERY serious. As such, I followed my training plan to the letter and sprinkled in some much needed cross-training and the occasional yoga class for good measure (and much needed mind rests). I put a lot of my life (the really boring stuff like house cleaning and sleeping in) on the back burner, including my little online diary here...good way to lose what few loyal followers I had! But for good reasons, like these.

I like food. No, I like GOOD food. You know, the kind made with love, heavy cream, cheese and a side of bread...with carrot cake for dessert. It's a constant struggle for me to push these lovies away. I don't deprive myself completely and always, just ask the girls in my book club! I'm all over those sweet confections! So when I partake, I run or I reach for the dumbells or I squeeze into the last spot available at the Saturday 8:00 AM spin class (hence, the no sleeping in part of this message). I think it's an even trade and I believe in everything in moderation.

I also like to feel like a girl. Feel good about myself. Feel a little sexy. And running makes me feel strong and powerful. I am not a super model. I don't have the body of a super model - never have, never will. I don't have a Cindy Crawford mole. I don't have Christy Turlington's cheekbones. I don't have a chiseled chin, almond eyes or a roman nose. I am, however, the female version of my father. And that makes me awesome. Sure, I wish I'd come to this realization years ago. It would've saved me a lot of heartache. Better late than never. My real hope is that young women find something awesome about themselves, too. And stop comparing themselves to what is more than likely an airbrushed photo of unrealistic perfection.




Additionally, I don't mind being alone. Over the last 6 months, I have covered hundreds of miles on foot and seen backroads in Bear Creek I've never been on during the almost 10 years I've lived here. During that time, I've taken in the beauty I call home. I've watched calves grow into heifers. I've watched the trees go from barren to green to brilliant golds and reds. I've watched the farmers plant their hay and then climb in the Combine to harvest their bounty. I've watched my neighbor boys scream with excitement over the last day of school and then witness them doing their impression of "dead man walking" as they made their way to the bus stop for the first day of school this past September. I've watched time go by one quiet mile at a time. All by myself. And it's helped me get closer to me, to my surroundings, to the physical world I live in. It's afforded me ample time to breath deeply and often and when I needed it most. Running gives me time to reflect. It gives me an opportunity to look into my heart and realize just how much the people in my life mean to me, how much I love them. It also gives me an opportunity to find anger and sadness in my heart - this isn't always so good...it's hard to run and cry at the same time.



But maybe the biggest reason I took on this challenge, and will do it again, is the feeling of complete accomplishment when I cross the finish line. Because the finish, no matter how good or ugly, is the summation and culmination of so much effort.

And despite the sport being so solitary, it really is a team effort when it's all said and done. Over these last 6 months, I have had the support and encouragement of the staff at my local YMCA and the Ladies Fitness Center. I have had the doctor I work for ask me faithfully, every Monday morning, how far was my long run this weekend and how did it feel? I've had friends and acquaintenances wish me nothing but the best. I've had my mom ask me to take up baking cookies instead (which really is code for "good job, please be careful"). I've had my daughter be...well, be my daughter - my beacon of light, my golden ring, my cheerleader, my biggest fan. And I've had my husband. My husband, who signed me up for 4 races, including a half marathon, over 6 weeks - 6 weeks prior to my marathon. My husband, who wanted to know if I was going to run my next long run faster than my last. My husband, who wanted to know if I REALLY wanted that 4th piece of pizza. My husband, the toughest coach I never I asked for.




And I've had my dad. Who was just simply there. And never said a word. He just was. He just is.

And because I'm his, that makes me awesome.

The Day The Music Died

For a number of weeks/posts now, I have refrained from writing about my daily walks in, around and through my neighboring memorial gardens. You know, the cemetery. I was getting hints that you, my loyal followers, were contemplating calling the local authorities because of your concern with my almost addiction to the place. So, I backed off. Which limited my story lines. Cause this place is riddled with good material!

I cannot contain myself any more. I have to share my most recent "episode" with said funerary grounds!

The other evening, BK and I were taking our customary 6:00 PM stroll. That dog sure does show up in a lot of my churchyard stories. I'm beginning to think that crazy canine is the key to these orb, gray-haze filled occurrences. Hmm. I should look into fencing an acre or two and turn that nut job out by herself! Is there such a thing as a dog exorcism?

Anyway, as we approached the A.M.E. Zion structure, we heard music. She heard it, too. She told me so. Actually, it was a great rhythm of beating drums. Not like The Black Eyed Peas kind of beat. More along the lines of a Jamie Foxx slow jam. I bobbed my head. I adjusted my stride to the beat. And as we approached the parking area for the City of the Dead, there wasn't a car to be seen. Not a car. Not a moped. Not a Vespa. Not a riding lawn mower. Not a bicycle. Not a soul - at least not a living one.

For sure, you are chuckling. You've decided that, clearly, there is an easy explanation for this. And, perhaps you're correct. Except for this. One MUST pass my house to get to the sanctuary - and, of course, again when one leaves. I never saw anyone or anything come or go.

And I'll leave you with this to ponder, too. As B and I passed the driveway entrance, the music - the beating drums - stopped. No longer a sound. Not a beat. Not a tap. Not a dropping of a drum stick.

Foolishly, we lingered, waiting to see who'd leave the building. I'm still waiting to see someone come out of that I'm-never-setting-foot-in-that-place place of worship. Yep, still waiting. And I haven't heard the drums since.

But I have picked up a few dollars in change that just randomly appears on the rarely traveled road in front of the necropolis.

I like to refer to the found money as simply pennies from heaven.

I could share that little tidbit with you, too, but I don't look good in solid white with my arms tied behind my back.

A Dark Thought

I have been struggling spiritually for over a year now. My anger is directed at a select few. And I feel like I'm in a war in which I'm the only one on my team - and I'm the defense... I think I need to stop waiting for one of the select few to notice this battle I'm fighting because it's becoming a daily disappointment.

I was in the middle of my long run yesterday and "hitting the wall". I was hot, frustrated and feeling very inept. And I thought, "Why am I bothering with this? Why am I working so hard at being the healthiest I can be? Because, after all, in the end, I will be dead just like the person who abused their body with drugs and alcohol."

Wasn't that a dark thought, Internet? Wasn't that grim?

When it was all said and done, I felt ashamed for having the thought. There's no denying the inevitable - yes, we are all going to die. But I thought if I allowed that thought to linger any longer or allowed myself to dwell on it or, worse yet, allowed the thought to change my current lifestyle in any negative fashion, then I would have surely lost my war.

I pushed through yesterday's wall (and I will do the same with the one's I've yet to face) and reminded myself that it's all about the journey. And I want to enjoy my journey, no matter how long or short it will be.

Busted

(Disclaimer: The names have been changed in this post to protect the innocent - that's me. The last thing I need is HIPPA man knocking on my door).

Me: "Thank you for calling Carolina Pines Surgery, this is Joyce. May I help you?"

Her: "Yes. I'd like to make an appointment with the doctor, please."

Me: "Wonderful. I can help you with that. What do you need to see the doctor about?"

Her: "My shoulder. I have tendinitis and arthritis in it. I need to see about getting some medication for the pain."

Me: "Ma'am, Dr. Smooth is a general surgeon. So unless you're at the point of surgery for your shoulder, you'll need to contact your primary care physician. Do you have a primary doctor?"

Her: "Yes I do. It's Dr. Rigid. And he referred me to Dr. Smooth."

Me: "Did he? I haven't received any of your medical information yet. Let me call over to Dr. Rigid's office and see what I can learn and I'll be back in touch with you."

Her: "That'll be fine. Thank you. Goodbye"

Me: "Hey Sally, it's Joyce over at Dr. Smooth's office. I just got off the phone with Mrs. Sneaky. She says she's a patient over there and that Dr. Rigid has referred her to us. But I don't have any paperwork on her. Can you pull her chart and send me what I need?"

Sally: "Sure. Hold on and let me just verify the basics..."

Sally: "Um, Joyce. Mrs. Sneaky is a resident at Once Here You Never Leave retirement home. We haven't seen her in months. Her care is being handled by the hospitalist at the facility. Maybe you should call over there and see what this is all about."

Me: "Hmm...okay. Thanks, Sally!"

Me: "Hi. This is Joyce. I'm calling from Carolina Pines Surgery. I need to speak with whomever is handling the care and appointments for one of your residents, Mrs. Sneaky."

Receptionist: "Certainly. Hold please and I'll get the nurse."

Mrs. DON: "Hello? This is Mrs. DON, may I help you?"

Me: "Hi Mrs. DON, this is Joyce over at Carolina Pines Surgery. I've been contacted by Mrs. Sneaky. She's attempting to make an appointment with Dr. Smooth regarding her shoulder. I've verified that she's a patient of Dr. Rigid's. I just hung up speaking with his nurse, who referred me back to you folks. I think there's some confusion regarding the care we provide here. I thought I should call and speak with you about the best course of action for Mrs. Sneaky."

Mrs. DON: "I'm sorry about this, Joyce. And I apologize for any inconvenience. The best course of action for Mrs. Sneaky is for us to go back to her room and unplug her telephone - - - AGAIN."

...BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Do you know where your seniors are...and what they're doing? Might want to check Grandpa's checking account in the slight event he's been hookin' up with his bookie. Just sayin'...

Old people rock!

I Can't Decide

I suspect this post is going to be random, at best. Just look at the title.

Random because I can't seem to pull all the thoughts and feelings I have into the order to which I'm accustomed. Bear with me.

I'm in a book club. These ladies and I have been together for, somewhere around 2 years. We meet faithfully once a month. It's a day I look forward to. It's an evening in which I get a little sad because that day now has an X through it on my calendar. And I wait for the next month. Each of these ladies is a wife, a mother, a daughter...some are aunts, sisters, grandmothers, widows. But all are first and foremost a woman.

Women fascinate me. We are extremists. We can be extremely gentle, kind and loving or we can be an extreme bitch if the situation calls for it. I find something fascinating and interesting about each of my club-mates. I'm sure they don't know it, but I pay very close attention to them when I'm with them. I watch their expressions change when they talk about their children. I notice the passion with which they speak when we're discussing politics - national or local. I watch their eyes tear when something or someone has touched their heart harmoniously or with discord. I know each ones laugh now. My life is richer with these women in it. All of this ran through my mind last night as our little entourage took a field trip.

YOU MUST GO NOW! Don't wait for the Red Box to stock it. Don't wait for Net Flix to deliver it to your mail box. Don't stream it on your PC/Laptop. Go to the theater. You deserve it.

Go see The Help. And normally, I would suggest - HIGHLY - reading the book first. But in this case, you'll be fine going in cold.

This book/movie is, ultimately, about women. About the relationships women form. Relationships with the men in their lives - fathers, brothers, lovers, co-workers - and relationships with other women. I believe to my core that there is no other love like that from a woman.

This book/movie is also about race and prejudice and the unjust treatment of humans toward other humans.

This book/movie is about determination in so many forms. About our responsibilities to one another as mankind. About courage and doing what's "right".

This book/movie is about love.

"You is kind, you is smart, you is important."

Each and everyone of you.