Seeing the Rainbow

This is a picture my dad took when he was here visiting for our spring break.

One of my patients at work had a rough time last year with difficult illnesses and hospital stays.  For a while her family did not think that she was going to pull through it.  I was devastated when I heard the news.  I feel a special connection with her because she reminds me so much of Elise.

When I see her mom bring her in to the office it makes me think about how that will be me and Elise in fifteen years.  She calls her "her buddy," and they go everywhere together.  She gives everyone she sees hugs, while laughing and smiling.  It broke my heart to think of never seeing her again.

My special little friend came into the office again today to get her teeth cleaned.  After multiple hospital stays and surgeries, she is finally back to her happy bubbly self.  I was on the verge of tears the entire visit.  I had never been so happy to give that girl hug after hug after hug.

Sometimes I think about the future as Elise's mother and caregiver.  Sometimes it is scary.  My patient's mother has been through so many trials with her daughter, keeping her healthy and getting the therapy and care which her condition demands.  And yet, through all the struggles, she has only ever been grateful to have the privilege of raising such a sweet spirit.

It reminded me of something President Dieter F. Uchtdorf said in his talk during our recent General Conference.  "How much of life do we miss by waiting to see the rainbow before thanking God that there is rain."

Some may see having a child with a disability as a trial.  I used to think so as well.  But then I was plunged head first into that world myself.  I am constantly bombarded with the day to day struggle of feeding, dressing and caring for a child with special needs, one who is completely reliant on me for her most basic care.  I live in continual fear of the next episode of seizures, with the overhanging possibility that the next time we won't be so lucky, and she could have serious after effects.

But I have also been enveloped in the warm embrace of Elise's monster hugs and caught her blown kisses from the air.  I have been surrounded by the music of her infectious laugh and marveled at every miraculous milestone.

I have never been so grateful for a trial in my life.

Elise has always helped me see the rainbow, even before it is ready to be revealed, all because I am not afraid to get a little wet.

My Most Excellent Man

Today Eric is in Louisville, Kentucky to receive an award for Excellence in Managed Care at Kindred Healthcare. One of the heads of the company called him personally to notify him of the honor.  Eric, along with other award recipients and the heads of Kindred, will enjoy a special recognition dinner tonight.  I wish that I could be there to share this special night with him.

I hope that Eric knows what a truly excellent man he is.  He could receive an equally prestigious award for Excellence in Service, or Excellence in Fatherhood, or my personal favorite, Excellence in Partnership.  He is reliable, generous, kind, thinks only the best of everyone, and somehow puts up with all my crazy ideas.  He is my very best friend. I don't know where I would be without him.

I am very proud of Eric, and happy that he is receiving recognition for the wonderful, hard-working, innovative man that he is.  But I don't need the head of Kindred Healthcare to tell me how excellent he is.  I discovered that for myself over twenty years ago, as he reached across and took my hand at a church roller-skating party, changing the future of my life forever.  

Eric's Denver Experience

Last week Eric flew to Denver for the day as part of his training for his new job. The gal he was working with had only moved to Denver one month ago, so she wasn't too familiar with the area.  When it came time for lunch, the two of them wanted to find a place that could give Eric a true "Denver Experience."  Eric thought a place that had great beef would be the perfect option.

So they found a diner called "Hamburger Mary's."  They walked in and sat down. Eric started noticing the many old Hollywood movie star posters on the walls.  He thought it was strange that there was what looked like another curtained entrance and a stage.  Then as they were ordering, they noticed the drink menu posted at his table had pictures of drag queens to illustrate, and an advertisement for their weekly Drag Queen Bingo Night.

On the wall was a quote which read, "Eat, drink, and BE MARY."

I didn't ask what their server looked like.  I was afraid to know.

Today I Am Grateful for Opposable Thumbs

Did you ever stop to think about how difficult life would be without opposable thumbs?  This thought had never crossed my mind until I injured the thumb on my right hand this week.  I struggled to:

-blow dry my hair

-hold the flat iron for my hair

-button my pants

-tie my shoes

-do the dishes (this one was a heart-breaker, let me tell you!)

-sweep the floor

-open my bottle of Vitamin water

-turn the steering wheel

-dress the girls

-open the tab on the girls' diapers

-hold any kind of instrument at work

-type

-adjust the overhead light on my patients

-etc, etc, the list is never-ending....

As I was cleaning up after my last patient on Wednesday night, I inadvertantly stuck my thumb with a used, dirty needle.  Now, when I say stuck, I actually mean stabbed-with-a-ridiculous-amount-of-force-penetrating-to-the-bone.

Yes, it was bad.  I hit it on the side of my thumb, almost in the thumb-pad and directly over the knuckle.  It happened so fast, I still don't know exactly how it happened.

The result of this thumb-prick was two-fold.  First, I had to file an Incident Report for the accident and the exposure.  I also had to see a doctor, who promptly put me on antibiotics and took blood for a work-up.  I will have to do that every three months for the next year.  These were annoying, but not exactly worth writing home over.

The worst part was when I woke up the next morning to a thumb that was so swollen and sore I couldn't touch or move it.  It didn't appear to be infected, just traumatized.  The doctor suspected I had traumatized the capsule that surrounds the knuckle, causing swelling and pain.

Thursday was pretty miserable, muddling through work with a gimp hand.  I couldn't believe how vital my thumb is.  I couldn't do anything without it.  By Friday, after mega-doses of anti-inflammatories, the swelling had decreased some, and now today it is just a little sore. 

I can even type.

I have never been so grateful to do a thumbs-up in my life!

OCD

I have a thing with numbers.

I like even numbers. I don't like odd numbers unless they are divisible by five. However, being a prime number does not give an odd number enough bonus points for me to like it.

I hoped and prayed that my kids would be born on days with numbers that I liked. Who wants to constantly have to remember a distasteful number?! Eric was born on the 23rd in 1971 of all years, which was almost a deal-breaker. Of course, I had already fallen in love with him before I knew about his unfortunate numberage, so I chose to overlook the fact.

My kids cooperated pretty well. All except for Ethan, that is. His birthday is September 7th. Considering he was ten days late, however, I was eager to welcome him whenever he would come! Luckily, he also had a fantastic year to be born in....2000! Who wouldn't like that?!

Having a pattern that involves the numbers is major bonus points! My girls almost made a pattern with their birthdays, and I still cringe to think how close they came!! Heidi was born on March 15th, Elise on April 15th, and Erica on.....May 14th.

My phone number growing up made a fantastic pattern. It was 336-5325. Notice the 3+3=6, 5-3=2, and 3+2=5! I loved that phone number!!! My parents still have it, by the way.

**********

Numbers are not my only thing.

I also have a thing with colors.

I like a lot of different colors, but a good color combination is vital!

At work we mark our instruments with colored bands to indicate which room they belong in, or which set-up they go with. The whole system is a great idea. It keeps us organized and gets our instruments back to our rooms in a timely manner. I have run into a few problems with this system, however.

In January I started a new job, and was able to start some new instrument set-ups for my room. The unfortunate part of this was that I was assigned a color I absolutely detest for my instruments. It's this terrible bright green. Not cheary apple-green, or mellow sage-green, it's a nasty dirty green that doesn't look good with anything. Yuck.

But then there was the coup de gras. Our hygiene trays each have a three-color combination to quickly differentiate between each set-up. And some of them were so hideous!!! I mean, who wants to see the bumble-bee colors (along with this ancient brown-colored tape to add further insult) over and over and over....?! I couldn't handle it!! Every time I got that tray I would grumble and gripe to myself, until I finally started just putting it back. I refused to use it anymore. Let the other hygienist who chose to band this unfortunate set so grotesquely, use it instead!!

Now some of these bands have been in place a loooong time. When instruments are autoclaved over and over again, the bands start to discolor and eventually get brittle and break. This happened on a few trays, so I started to reband them. And then I noticed how great the new ones looked, so I couldn't help but banding the rest of the group so they all matched. Then I started surrepticiously banding them in my own color combinations!! Then I had to reband all the instrument sets so that they all matched and looked good!

This took me several days, here and there, rebanding another set-up. I didn't think anyone was really noticing, or cared for that matter, until I started noticing my coworkers laughing at me. "Uh oh....she's banding again!!"


And then one of them asked, "I wonder if OCD is contagious?"

Heather's New Job

Yesterday I started a new job. It was a good day, and I think the switch will be good in the long run, but changes for me in general are difficult. I like my routine.


I won't go into detail about the time I spent agonizing over my decision to take a new job. It was tough. Nothing in my life ever seems to be black and white. It's all in the very gray realm. However, after much prayer, I feel like I have made the right decision and now can move on in my life.


Part of the distress of my job-hunting experiences is what is known in the dental field as the "working interview." It's where you go work in the office for a day or more and just try each other out. There is no committment on either side, and it gives you a chance to see if you can mesh together or not.


I usually have crazy things develop when I am doing a working interview. I have had kid emergencies crop up at really inconvenient times, and once a car accident on the way to the interview, making me over an hour late. Gee, that leaves a great impression.


When I was interviewing at my last job I developed a sudden and severe allergic reaction during lunch. As my lips and eyes swelled up to huge proportions, I was downing Benadryl like you wouldn't believe, but it wasn't working. I had to go back to work, completely embarassed about my appearance and the situation. They were super nice and one of the girls drove me to the walk-in clinic so I could get an epinephrine shot to stop the reaction. She waited with me there for over an hour as they were observing me. After that fiasco, I thought for sure that I would never hear back from them. Crazily enough, I got the job, and it's been where I've worked for the last five years!


So it wouldn't be overlooked, this recent interview also had its crazy moments. The doctor took me and their other hygienist to lunch. It was a great teriyaki place, but unfortunately it was about six or seven blocks away from the office....and we walked. Of course by the time we left the restaurant, there was a freak rainstorm outside. I don't know how many of you have been in a true Washington rainstorm, but it's intense! You feel like buckets are literally dumping on you! The streets flood with rivers of water because the drains can't even keep up. And they always seem to hit all of a sudden! Needless to say, none of us had umbrellas, or even hoods on our jackets! We had to run all the way back to the office, and got so completely drenched it was ridiculous! I may as well have jumped into a swimming pool. I scurried into the bathroom and tried to fix my plastered hair and streaked makeup into something presentable. I still had three more patients to see. Everyone said I looked fine, but I was mortified! I ended up having to throw out my purse because it was so waterlogged. (This included all my essential paper items: my dayplanner, my checkbook, all my doctor's business cards, etc. It was traumatic!)


But now I'm working there....


I guess the sticky starts are all par for the course for me. Who knows, maybe these events even help seal the deal, because I am certainly not going to be one of the applicants they forget anytime soon! After all, how many times do you meet an abnormally petite gal with puffy eyes and streaked makeup, who has a tendency to rear-end irritating lolly-gaggers at traffic intersections?

Going Nuts

I just had a patient the other day who is deathly afraid of squirrels. You know, the cute little critters that daringly dash out in front of your car, just begging for some kind of ridiculous accident. (I am just now picturing explaining to an officer that you side-swept three cars on the side of the road because a squirrel ran out in front of you....)


Now, I can understand having a phobia over rats. I mean, they are dirty, gross, and ruin all sorts of pantry items which happen to be stored in the garage. They do not have bladders, so they pee everywhere as they scamper around. GROSS.


I can even see mice, they are just a miniature (and much cuter, I must say) version of a rat.


But squirrels?


She told me how she was traumatized last time she was at our office because a squirrel kept coming up to the window in the operatory (which is full length) and looking at her through the glass. Then when she got home afterwards there was another squirrel running all over her yard while she was trying to get into the house. She swore the office squirrel had to have followed her home.


Wow.

How to Annoy Your Dental Hygienist

I find it entertaining, in an exasperating sort of way, how patients can have such similar illogical reactions to things in a dental chair. I will give three examples of patients that anyone who works in the dental field sees on a regular basis.... at least once a day.


Patient A is great at stating the obvious. "This front tooth here, (pointing to the hideously discolored monstrosity in front of their face, complete with the grey metal margin gleefully exposed for all the world to see) is a fake, so be careful with it. I try not to touch it so it doesn't fall out." They then proceed to wince and gasp at any sort of movement my instruments do in its near proximity. Patient A is also very good at pointing out a hairline flaw or stain that bothers them, when it is surrounded by five different colors of filling material on their patchwork-piece of a tooth.


Patient B finds it impossible to swallow their own saliva, when that is all they do every other day of their life. They don't seem to notice how much of the appointment time I waste putting everything down so they can spit into the little vacuum. And if I don't do it often enough, they frantically point to their mouth and make "ah ah aha aaah" sounds.


Patient C cannot lay back in the chair at less than a 45 degree angle to the floor. They are approaching 60 degrees and "Whoaaa!!! I'm going to slide out of the chair!" Trust me, I explain. I haven't lost a single patient yet. I then proceed to dump them on the floor....just kidding! I just wonder how they go to bed at night. Surely they aren't all sleeping in recliners! As I continue to press the down-and-back-button, I usually make some little joke about "That's how I get my tips"....You know, loose change falling from their pockets....Yes, it's lame. We all have to entertain ourselves somehow, though.

Two Moms Livin' it Up in Seattle

I just got back from spending two days in Seattle.



"Two days in Seattle?" you might say. "Don't you, like, live there already?"



My friend Janelle and I needed to go to a dental conference these last two days to meet some of our continuing education requirements. The conference was downtown at the Seattle Convention Center. We go every year. It's always such a hassle to get down there (for us non-commuters) so early for two days in a row. This year we thought it would be fun to stay the night in a hotel close to the conference, so we split a room that we got a killer deal on from Priceline. (I told you before, I am sold!)



As far as conferences go, this one was fair. Some of the speakers were pretty good, but most were just average. We got to sit through twelve hours of learning what makes up the ultimate doctor-patient exam, how to create a caries (cavity) risk assessment on our patients, as well as several other equally enthralling topics. I am sure you are intrigued and want to hear more....



The fun part was that we were smack in the middle of downtown Seattle. Now, I hardly ever go downtown unless it is for a very specific purpose which entails driving straight there, and then driving straight back. I never just wander around. Because of this, I haven't before experienced the fantastic selection of shops and shopping malls that exist in an easily walkable area of space. The two of us -- hard-working, frazzled moms -- ran around like giddy school-girls anticipating Christmas, completely reveling in the shopping experience without crying and nagging children! We looked in all sorts of places, gushing over adorable displays and rolling our eyes at some of the insane price tags. (Now, who in their right mind would pay $180 for a necktie?!)



And then there was the food. We really enjoyed eating at all sorts of places, like the Cheesecake Factory, and a fancy Mexican restaurant in one of the malls. (I know, that all sounds like an oxymoron, but trust me, it was great!)



A bonus to staying at a hotel was that we were able to take the hotel shuttle to and from the Conference Center, so we didn't need to find parking while we were there. The hotel we stayed at was across the street from Safeco Field, so it was a little too far to walk. It was great to be picked up and dropped off wherever we needed to go. One of our shuttle trips was an experience to remember. It was almost 9:00 pm. We were on our way to the hotel for the night, when the driver got a call for a pick-up. He stopped in front of The Met, a really nice restaurant that Eric and I had dinner at several years ago. The food was amazing. They are famous for their steaks. I swear, mine was so tender I could cut it with a fork! The unfortunate part is what you see on the bill after you've eaten. The check for just the two of us was over $100! Great place, but pretty spendy!



Anyway, we stopped to pick up a party of guests from this really nice restaurant. We had a pretty good inkling of what was coming when we saw them stagger across the street towards the van. They were spittin' drunk. Five guys, of varying ages and level of intoxication, tried to chat us up as the van started on our journey back to the hotel. "Where are you from? You staying in the same hotel? What room are you in? Are you pregnant?" It is worth mentioning at this point that Janelle is currently eight months pregnant. Unfortunately, that question was immediately followed up with, "You wanna come party with us?" They then proceeded to ply the driver with questions about what bar they should go to next, since they were apparantly kicked out of the fancy restaurant before they were ready to call it a night. He found one that seemed suitable to them and let them off, but not without the guys trying to persuade us again to join them. We were all relieved when they finally got out.



Janelle, the driver, and I then got to laugh about this crazy group of men on our way back to the hotel. We concluded from listening to their conversation that they were part of some sort of bachelor party. They mentioned how their dad had left early, since they had gotten into an argument. (Gee, I wonder what that one was about....) Well, when we got in the elevator to go up to our room, I noticed Janelle looking strangely at the man that rode in the elevator with us. He went into a room just a few doors down from ours. Once we shut the door she burst out laughing because she thought for sure the man was the father the other guys had referred to! What were the odds of that? We were on the seventh floor, for heaven's sake! It's a big hotel! I double locked the door and hoped we wouldn't hear too much commotion when the boys finally got back! We did hear them at about midnight, but it was hushed up pretty quickly. They were probably all passed out!



Today we didn't have any more crazy adventures, thank goodness. Probably the craziest part was just trying to leave the area around the hotel. It was swamped with people since there was a Mariners game tonight. I was glad to get away from it all. Although trips and adventures can be full of fun and crazy memories, sometimes my favorite part is how I feel to be back home again.

Remember My Name

I have a problem with names. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to keep an orderly compartment for them in my overly-cluttered brain.



I'm not sure how this problem started. I actually used to be very good with names, back in high school. I prided myself in being able to remember just about any name that was introduced to me. Well, that department has long since filed for bankruptcy. And I don't think there will be a bail-out any time soon!



I typically see about eight patients a day, so I see a fair number of names come and go in my chair. As I look at the schedule in the morning, I see a lot of names I recognize, but I just can't seem to put the name and face together. To my mortification, the girls at work are able to talk about the upcoming patients with ease. "Oh, Tom's coming in! Great! I'll have to ask him how his fishing trip went!" Or "I really need to get that pickling recipe from Sheila today!" All from looking at the schedule. I feel so stupid. Why can't I do that? Sure, I know them when I see them.....I remember full conversations, as well as treatment plans under way, but can I for the life of me remember their name?!



My work is across the street from a Safeway, and I am continually running into my patients there during my lunch break. They usually look at me with a I-think-I-know-you-but-I-can't-figure-out-from-where kind of look. I attribute this to the fact that I am not walking around in a white lab-coat, gloves, mask, and protective eye-wear. It makes me a little harder to recognize. But of course, I can't even greet them with a "Hello Jan!" because I can't remember their name. I must resort to the "Hiiiiii! How aaaare you?!"



Since I am such a ditz in the name department, I am always impressed when someone remembers my name. It makes me feel honored, as a matter of fact. I am generally a sit-on-the-side-lines-hope-no-one-notices-me type of person. So when someone goes out of their way to remember who I am, I am flattered.



The other day when I was bringing a patient back to my chair she called me by my name. I immediately felt great, and it made the entire appointment a positive experience. After she left, I told my boss Kristine, that that was my favorite part of my job -- getting to know the patients and feeling like I have made a difference in their lives. I mentioned that my previous patient had even remembered my name. Kristine then pointed to the bright, shiny name tag pinned to my chest and said with a smile, "Well, it couldn't have been due to that!"



Duh.

Politics and a Sweaty Lounge Singer

Today at work I saw a gentleman (and I use the term loosely) that I always dread seeing on the schedule. You just never know what is going to come out of the man's mouth or what schizophrenic thing he will do in your chair. He's the patient that I referred to previously as being an Al Gore look-alike, in a crazy, hairy way. Trust me, it fits.



The first time I met him we had an argument of a political nature. As a general rule, I don't talk politics at work. I think it is unprofessional. But he sooo got on my nerves! Luckily, he doesn't remember a word of it. This will make more sense as I continue....



He is a starving musician, and would be literally if his lovely wife didn't support the family. He just can't seem to find it in him to find a vocation of a different sort, since all he wants is to be a lounge singer. Yes, a lounge singer. He currently has a weekly gig at a retirement home.



So now when I see him I steer clear of politics and talk music, since that is a topic we can both be enthusiastic about. Too bad he is insane!



The last time he was in the office was for a toothache. We have a lovely assistant, Tasha, who just happens to be the one and only young and single gal of our crew. She is cute. She has the sweetest personality and everyone loves her. Unfortunately, that can lead to undesirable consequences. As she led Mr. "Gore" back to her chair, he kept repeating he was just so hot, sooo hot! Then he asked her if she minded if he changed his shirt because he was sweaty. He then proceeded to take his shirt off right in front of her (those poor little virgin eyes will never be the same!), wiping himself off. He put another shirt on and she matter-of-factly tried to proceed with the exam. We were all standing in the hall by this time, trying not to laugh as she mimed a gagging motion.



So we all knew he was crazy. I just found out today why. At the beginning of the appointment I asked him about what medications he was taking. After rattling off Prozac, etc., he conspiratorially leaned forward and said he is also taking a "prescription" of cannabis.



(Just in case, that's ummm, marijuana....)



Ahem.....that explains a lot actually. I just wonder what street doctor "prescribed" that one!

My Famous Clients

Last week I worked on Billy Joel. Yes, he's a good friend of mine. We chatted about his music while I was cleaning his teeth. Oh yeah, we're tight like that....


For those of you who don't know me well, I am a dental hygienist. This means that I clean people's teeth for a living. It also means I have a very unique view of people when they're sitting in my chair. There's an odd thing I've noticed in the ten years I've been doing this. That is that people look quite different when they are laying back and have a pair of stylish, dark protective eyewear on. Call it an active imagination, or maybe just boredom, but a lot of my patients start looking like celebrities to me when they are positioned like that. Some of them have a very striking resemblance, as a matter of fact!


Last week was a banner week in that I had two celebrities: Billy Joel and Meryl Streep. Some of my other famous clients have been Harrison Ford, Keanu Reeves, Jennifer Garner, Tom Cruise (several of him, actually), Mel Gibson, Al Gore (in a kind of crazy, hairy way), and the boisterous, noisy pop on East Coast Choppers.


It is really quite mesmerizing to see them lying there, oblivious to my fascinated stare. But then I sit them up, and POOF the illusion's gone. Glasses off and sitting upright they are suddenly Joe or Jane Blow again, and I am wondering how I had even thought that they looked like someone else before.


Ah well, it was fun while it lasted....

Mr. Bloody Gums

Let me relate with you a conversation I had recently with one of my patients. For the sake of patient's privacy rights, HIPPA, blah blah, we will refer to him as Mr. Bloody Gums.

"So, tell me how you've been doing with your homecare? Brushing, flossing?" This is my standard question I ask once I have assessed for myself what their actual toothbrush usage is.

Mr. Bloody Gums replies nonchalantly, "Not bad."

"You're brushing twice a day....?"

"Oh, I try to every week, but sometimes I forget."

Stunned silence.

"Once a week?" Hoping I had misunderstood.

"Yeah, but sometimes I forget," Mr. Bloody Gums answers with a shrug.

So this would explain the Niagra Falls of blood and gore we had just experienced for the last 45 minutes....Now I must evaluate how to educate this poor soul: with a strict lecture on proper homecare that only a true dental hygienist can do justice with, or a gentle nudge into the direction of more appropriate hygiene behavior. Assessing his motivation level, and noting that (gasp) there are no wives or girlfriends in the picture, I opt for the second.

"I would love to see you brushing everyday...." Thus begins my arduous journey of beating my head against a brick wall.

Sadly enough, Mr. B.G. is not my first patient to admit to such a serious lack of hygiene skills.

He's my second.

I have yet to decide if these two gentlemen (and yes, they were both men in their late 40's) are indeed clueless about a toothbrush, bacteria, and the reason no woman wants to approach them, or if they are just plain lazy.

Again, my bet is on the second.

I am nervously anticipating the day when a patient responds with, "That's your job, honey. These teeth haven't seen a brush since they were here last."


It will happen.

Ugh.