Read-a-Thon Day #3 – The Mysterious Page 99 Test

Since quite a few books suddenly turned up at the library today after sitting for months on our queue there is an abundance of new things to read! This is both a blessing and a curse; a blessing because books! YEA! and a curse because I really need to get on it. It seems a bit fortuitous that they all showed up during the read-a-thon. So here goes the 99 page test!

** Rules **

The object of the game is to pick a book you have not yet read, turn to page 99 and read that page. Then you give a synopsis of that page and tell us if, based only on that page, would you want to read this book.

• 

  The Good Nurse

  The Book: The Good Nurse: A True Story of Medicine, Madness, and Murder

• The Author: Charles Graeber
• The ISBN: 978-0-446-50529-1
• The Synopsis: Page 99 outlines a conversations between two employee’s discussing the accidental overdose of two separate patients in their care. This isn’t a spoiler – the guy was found guilty. The two are mumbling against one another about whether or not these deaths are not a police matter due to the type of drugs found in each overdose. Is it an accident? Is it on purpose? Well – neither know, and they are both clearly befuddled about it and very hesitant to involve the authorities. To me, they both seem like weak, resistant members of a staff that couldn’t fathom the idea of purposeful overdoses occurring on their shift.
• Would I Still Want to Read This Book: Yes! How could not want to read what happens next! Do they call the police? Do they ignore it and crazy nurse goes somewhere else? Do more people get hurt as a result of the huge decision based on what these two decided? How could you not want to know! Fact of the matter, it is going to be hard not to stop the book I am currently reading just to find out!

Just a Quick One So You Know I am Not Dead

Still alive here in the Buckeye state, so no worries there. The foot is still attached so I am considering that one for the win category. It has been bundled in this contraption until we see if we can afford health insurance.

Boot for the Klutzy.

My biggest concern is that I broke the same bone I have already broken in this foot. I talked the doctor out of surgery (screws, rods…eww) because my hand was broken at the time as well. If this is the case, then I may be majorly screwed. Or….it could just be a really bad sprain that will heal on its own. I am hoping for the latter.

It has  been made more difficult because I cannot use crutches for long periods of time due to my hand, so I have been taking the pain medication for my hand (and well, I guess my foot now too), which is something I tend to avoid. I hate pain medication, it makes me fuzzy and goofy.

Because of this I haven’t really been doing my knitting for fear of making a mistake. Instead I have been working on my parents anniversary party – invitations, knitted stems and pom-pom flowers (those are very difficult to mess up) and a photo album of their 30 years together. More on that later.

I finished Gillian Flynn’s Dark Places, which was amazing right till the end – where for me it faltered. She had something that was really evolving into something amazing, but I felt like there was a short cut taken – like it was planned all the time but the planning was unneccessary.

I still really enjoyed it and it has been nice to relax with a good book. It was on my read-a-thon list but I have so much I want to read that updating shouldn’t be an issue.

 

 

 

I will be back tomorrow friends and neighbors with this week’s stitch pattern, no worries! Thank you all for your kind words and support – I will be back in the saddle in no time at all. Till then, try not to fall. 😉

Please Don’t Tell Me What I Cannot Do

To Those Who Doubt Me,

Please, do not tell me what I cannot do. There are millions of things that are worse than an arthritic hand, a hand with only a thumb and pointer finger that are fully functional. Or the wee little panic monster living in my brain, you learn to live with OCD just like you would live with any chemical imbalance; one day at a time. Look around you; you never have to look very hard or very long to find something worse. I consider myself lucky in that respect.

If I want to mow my parents lawn as well as their next door neighbors – whose grandchild is dying in Children’s Hospital- please don’t tell me I cannot do this. I can tie a twisty tie around the power mower lever and push with my palms. I can rest for ten minutes here and there and elevated the swollen, screaming appendage then continue the task at hand (no pun intended, although it is a good one). Real pain is having a mother whose lungs will not allow her to do the yard work she has always loved, or losing a grandchild whose heart has given it up as a bad job.

If I want to clean my neighbor’s house to prepare for the impending arrival of their first child, please do not tell me I cannot do this. This is may seem like a double no-no for someone struggling with infertility, multiple miscarriages, and OCD that gets set off at the drop of a hat around baby items. It may seem a no-no situation to avoid the panic monster living in my brain, that little bastard and I have learned to live together, he won’t stop me from helping a friend when they need it. If I can survive the war in my brain knitting their baby blanket, so soft and sweet and utterly heartbreaking then my hand and brain can handle Windex and Pledge just fine.

If I want to for hours on end, please do not tell me I cannot do this. There are compression gloves – both those you can find in craft stores and the more sophisticated versions that specialist create for loads of money – that can pull the swelling from my abused joints. There is Advil, Tylenol, ice and heat to sooth the pain and malicious looking bruising. I don’t mind the dusky purple color my hand takes on, I choose to look at my hand and it’s odd coloring as a sign that another day has gone by and I have not let my life be dictated by something beyond my control.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I am not mad. I know you worry because you care.

I am not depressed. I know your concerns about the overwhelming emotions brought on by being surrounded by baby items with no baby of our own are painful, but hiding from them would be far more detrimental.

I will not be deterred. If I decided to stop living my life and doing the things I love for fear of pain, that would not be living. Life can be painful, usually is to be honest. It is how we choose to go about our pain that makes us who we are. I am choosing to be someone who will not be defined by a hand injury, I am not making it any worse doing these things, just opting to live with what I’ve got to work with. I will not be defined by the fact that I cannot have the child that I so desperately want. My heart may feel like it is breaking on a daily basis but to ignore or neglect all those whose bodies will allow them to make a new life would be selfish, inconsiderate and destroy that happier parts of myself. Family is, after all, what you make of it.

So please, take heart that I know my limitations, that I know how to live my life to the fullest and embrace the things that make me the happiest even if I get a wee bit teary here and there. And please – Don’t Tell Me What I Cannot Do.