Karen

Empty Nesters for 15 Months Now

June 8, 2016June 5, 2016 Karen

I haven’t updated you on the boys for a while now. They’ve been in their apartment for over one year.

Just typing that doesn’t make it feel real. I mean, it’s real, but it doesn’t feel real. It feels like they just moved out last month.

It’s scary how fast time flies, isn’t it?

I’m not sure I ever properly introduce them to you all. Blake is our oldest, he’s 23, and Brandon is our youngest, he’s 21.

(Side note: Know what’s REALLY weird? Having an alcoholic beverage with your children. Blake drinks the occasional beer with his dad and though Brandon is old enough to drink, he refuses. He won’t even drink coffee “because caffeine is highly addictive, mom.” haha! That kid. That was really the moment our kids morphed into adults for me, I think.).

The boys moved out around Brandon’s birthday last March. They weren’t motivated to look around for an apartment so Kevin and I did their looking for them. (If we had waited for them to find motivation to look, they would still be living with us and nope, they needed to start being their own people).

There is an apartment complex literally five minutes from our house, just down the street, and they offered a pretty sweet Internet package and we knew that was going to be key for our boys. (They are both pretty huge geeks). So, we made an appointment and we looked at them – it was small but really perfect for both of them. There were two, identical units available, one on the second floor and one on the third floor. They both had fireplaces (how cool is that!?!) but the third floor apartment had carpet in the kitchen and the 2nd floor one did not. I talked them into taking the 2nd floor one, (which was a big mistake, more on that in a minute).

We co-signed their lease since neither one had any credit to speak of, (And *snap*, that reminds me, we need to get them set up on a credit card so they can start building their credit. We can’t continue to co-sign for them forever), and we helped them move in.

We shopped around for a kitchen table and a sofa and they each paid for half. (Luckily, we had taught them the seriousness of saving their money and by the time they graduated from high school, they both had a little money saved up).

I think we ended up buying their kitchen utensils and bathroom necessities. Of course, they had their beds and their computers to furnish their bedrooms. We gave them an old TV we had lying around and they were set.

The first two months they lived there were pretty awesome. They loved it.

And then someone moved into the 3rd floor apartment above them. The couple have a young daughter and the couple constantly yell/scream/fight with each other and the child constantly runs from room to room. On top of this noise, they started smelling something like a skunk smell in their apartment.

(I wish now I hadn’t talked them into the 2nd floor apartment, they wouldn’t have had to deal with all of the stomping at least, though I suppose the yelling/fighting and smell would still have been a problem).

They finally got fed up with their shenanigans and reported them to the apartment manager. The manager left a note on their door and things got better for a bit.

But then that threat wore off and the fighting, stomping and smell came back. They complained again and the manager sent someone over to check the vents thinking that maybe an animal or something had gotten caught and that was what was smelling, but everything was clear.

We took some ice cream over to their place one night and that was the first time I smelled the skunk smell. WOW. They weren’t kidding, it was pretty bad. We were pretty sure the people above them were smoking some stink weed or smoking … something they shouldn’t have been.

Blake, my quiet, shy, introverted son, finally had enough. He actually called the cops on them one night. Their fighting was getting worse and they would do it in the middle of the night. (I find it hard to believe that the other neighbors hadn’t complained about them given how rude and obnoxious they are). Blake said the cops came over, pounded on their door but no one would answer. They knew they were home because they heard them before and after the police came.

(Side note: After the boys moved in, they found out that there had been a meth lab in the complex several years ago. I’m assuming, given the facility’s history, the police continue to treat complaints from the complex as serious, which is good, in some ways. At least they are being watched).

The police were called … I want to say several months ago. Blake says the noise, though still there, isn’t as bad and he hasn’t smelled that smell in quite some time. I’m hoping the police coming to visit was enough to scare their neighbors, not straight, exactly, but at least taking their crap somewhere else.

It’s sad the boys have had such a hard time with assholes their first time out of the house, but in a way, it’s sort of good, too. We have spoiled them rotten over the years, pretty much giving them what they have always wanted, and they’ve never really been inconvenienced in their entire lives, so this experience has taught them that you have to learn to deal with all sorts of jerks out there and life is sometimes messy.

Honestly, I think we see them more now than when they lived with us. They come over a lot for dinners, (whenever Kevin and I aren’t working late and can make dinner, which hasn’t been very often lately), and they always come over on Sundays, either to drop/start their laundry, (which I don’t mind finishing for them) and to eat Sunday dinner. Now that Kevin has the pool up and running at the rental house, they may start coming over on the weekends to go swimming.

Kevin and Roy also bought an old fishing boat and have been taking it out on Lake Springfield on the weekends. Blake went with them last weekend but he said that none of them even had a nibble. I’m just glad Blake is getting out of the house and getting some fresh air.

Brandon is our social one and I don’t worry about him, but I wish Blake had at least one friend. He’s like me, he doesn’t really have any friends and though I’m okay with that because I have people at work I goof around with, Blake works for Kevin and he doesn’t really have any work friends to socialize with. Having at least one friend would allow him the opportunity to get out and live life once in a while.

Our boys are great people, though. I’m very proud of both of them. They have morals and are kind to people. I wish they would start thinking about their long-term goals in life, though. I mean, if they choose to live their lives going from paycheck to paycheck, I guess that’s their prerogative, but life sure is easier if you have a good job and make some decent money. Like I mentioned, Blake works for Kevin and though he’s not building a lot of social skills, he has developed a lot of bookkeeping experience that will likely come in handy for him one day whenever Kevin retires.

Brandon is still working for the shoe store – in fact, he got promoted just recently. He’s working more hours, making more money and he has temporarily (?) put wanting to work at a bank on the back burner. He likes his manager, he likes his work and he feels comfortable doing it. He’s around people all day, of course, and he is developing some pretty important people skills too. I think everyone should have to work with the public at least once in their lives. Learning to get along with all sorts of personalities is crucial to success, in my opinion.

So, the boys have signed another one-year lease. They were thinking of signing a six-month lease in case their neighbors started being dicks again, but that would have cost them more money every month and Blake didn’t want to do that. (They are such cheap skates – I LOVE IT!). They were hoping one of their cousins would move in with them so they could afford a bigger place, but that didn’t pan out for them. So they are stuck in their apartment until next March. We were hoping their neighbors would move out in May, but nope, no such luck.

This apartment complex has townhouses that would really be perfect for three people. Maybe they will be able to move into one of those when their lease is up in March 2017.

The boys still have their keys to our house and we’ve always told them they are more than welcome to come over any time. They may not live here anymore, but it will always be their home.

Life

We Can’t Control Getting Older but We Can Control How We Do It

June 7, 2016June 5, 2016 Karen

When I tell people at work that I’m 50, (and that’s only if they corner me and phrase their questions so that I have no choice but to answer them directly instead of my usual deflect or avoid strategy), they are shocked.

I’m shocked. I still can’t believe I’m 50. It just sounds ……. OLD.

I don’t feel OLD. Mentally, I feel like I’m still in my mid-twenties. Physically? well, not so much.

I’ve always had pretty good health. Oh sure, I’ve had three feet of my intestines ripped out of my abdomen, I’m prone to headaches, sinus issues, and I’m pretty sure I have scoliosis which translates into back problems and one leg being shorter than the other, but overall, I’m in pretty good shape.

(Side note: Kevin told me the other day that he notices that I swing my right foot whenever I walk. That I’ve always done that. WHAT?! I never knew that. Now I’m super self-conscious to lift my right foot up whenever I walk).

I’ve dealt with these issues over the years by trial and error – I find ways to cope with these discomforts and have learned how to prevent them from reoccurring.

Our weekly steps are usually this close, sometimes he pulls ahead, but I mostly beat him. Mainly because I’m on my feet most days at work. Most of his steps are on the weekends.

But then I went through menopause and suddenly, somehow, aliens have taken over my body and I don’t recognize me anymore.

My biggest issue is not being able to sleep. Which SUCKS because I’ve always slept pretty good my whole life. I’ve been somewhat of a fish, more than usual. I’ve always flopped around in bed my whole life but somehow, it didn’t really affect my sleep. Now, I am NEVER comfortable. We used to have one of those memory foam mattresses which was comfortable for about six months and then it was like sleeping on a marshmallow and I would wake up with numb extremities. We spent WAY too much money on that stupid mattress. And we kept it for about five years because, well, we spent WAY too much money on that stupid mattress. I HAVE to get my money’s worth.

Have you met me??

But after a while, I just couldn’t take it anymore. So when we started shopping around for firmer mattresses, we decided to avoid the super mattress stores and go simple – like Wal-Mart simple. Like, we bought a mattress that came rolled up into a box and cost $250 bucks simple.

And I have to admit, I love this thing. It’s firm, maybe just a bit too firm, but I don’t wake up with numb extremities anymore.

Now I wake up because my hips hurt. Or my legs ache. And when I get out of bed in the morning, the arch of my left foot is so painful I hobble around like I’m 90 years old until it just sort of works itself out. And once it stops aching, it doesn’t hurt the rest of the day.

In fact, I’ve been having all sorts of weird aches like that, my legs, my hips, my arms, my hands. So I started researching because God forbid I actually go to a doctor. And what good is that going to do anyway. He/she will try and prescribe medication and no thank you – I’m fighting that route for as long as I can.

I started thinking … I’ve gone through menopause. I am no longer producing estrogen but I take Flaxseed oil (that I read mimics estrogen) and a supplement that does a pretty fantastic job of controlling my hot flashes. One of the big things a woman loses when she goes through menopause is calcium. And Lord knows, I definitely do not take enough calcium in my day-to-day diet. So, I started experimenting. I’ve been eating cottage cheese every morning, (Kevin has been doing that for years and he’s healthy as a horse). And I’ve been taking a calcium/magnesium/zinc supplement every morning, too.

I’ve been doing this for about two weeks now and WOW, what a difference. My joint pain has all but dissipated though I still wake up with that weird foot arch pain so I’m thinking it must have something with the way I’m sleeping, or maybe my mattress is a little too firm, but I haven’t given up on that yet.

All of these crazy body pains/issues is different for me. Like I said, I’ve always had issues but now suddenly, I have different issues. I’m sure it’s because my body is changing, getting older, etc., but it’s been a challenge for me to keep up.

I need to get that resting heart rate down. — I need to get my resting heart rate down.

I could stand to lose about 50 pounds. (But then again, who can’t stand to lose a few pounds?). That’s something else I’ve noticed since going through menopause – I have a terrible time keeping weight off. But then again, to be perfectly honest, I haven’t been trying very hard, either. I could certainly eat less carbs and sugar and though I’ve been back on the treadmill, I need to use it more often throughout the week.

I had that little heart scare about six months ago. I felt a chest tightness, shortness of breath, nauseated and my left arm ached. I was quite convinced I was having a heart attack and went to the ER. They ran some tests and told me, no, I wasn’t having a heart attack and here, let’s shoot some Ativan into you so you’ll calm down and send you home. (I would LOVE to have some of that Ativan on hand, let me tell you). They sent me for a stress test and everything came back normal. My heart is fine, I had a panic attack. Too much stress at work – go figure.

ellipitcal — Fitbit charts my walking as doing the Elliptical, not sure why. Also, MUST DO BETTER.

But I’ve always been able to handle stress in the past, now that I’ve gone through “the change”, I feel like my body is turning into mush. It’s frustrating.
Kevin bought me a Fitbit for my birthday. It’s a Fitbit Charge HR. Kevin bought it for me for two reasons: 1. we earn points at work every time we walk 6,000 steps and/or if we have 30+ minutes of physical activity, which translates into money toward any health care cost we incur in a 12 month period and 2. to keep track of my heart rate. When I first got my Fitbit, my resting heart rate was in the mid-80’s, now it’s in the mid-70’s though it has been creeping back up there again. I need to do better about getting back on the treadmill.

That’s something else that has been different – my heart races. I will sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and my heart is beating so fast I almost feel out of breath. I have to sit up for a bit, (and most times fall asleep that way), in order to get some relief. It doesn’t happen as often as it did before I started becoming more active, but it does happen. I just focus on my breathing and force myself to relax my body and it goes away. I think I read somewhere that racing heartbeats was another symptom of menopause.

IT SUCKS GETTING OLDER.

But I’m not going to let getting older defeat me. I see people I went to high school with on Facebook and it always surprises me how OLD they look. And I’m one of the oldest ones in my class. I think people get older and they just sort of give up.

Not me.

My body is obviously changing and I will just have to change and adapt along with it. I will continue to dye my hair, I will keep my mind active, I will continue to listen to my body and treat it accordingly and I will fight this natural progression tooth and nail.

I’m not ready to get old.

I refuse to get old.

Relationships

Twenty-Six Years of Married Bliss and Counting

June 6, 2016June 4, 2016 Karen

We celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary on May 26th. Actually, we didn’t celebrate it, we were both too busy working to really acknowledge the actual day, but we did go out and eat at Outback Steakhouse the day after our anniversary.

(Side note: We took a cruise around the Hawaiian Islands last year for our 25th wedding anniversary – no, I haven’t written about that time yet … stop nagging).

And we used half of the gift card that the doctor I work for gave me for Christmas two years ago. (I had actually forgotten I had it. We used half of it so it would give us an excuse to go back a second time – we smart!)

It was a great dinner. I had steak tips and Kevin had a Ribeye, I think. We talked about possibly going somewhere for vacation this year but I think I have him convinced to just keep it low key this time, stay home, save some money, pay off our homequity loan. This is going to make me sound spoiled, and I guess, since we’re being honest here, I AM spoiled, but I’m burned out on cruises. We’ve taken a cruise for the past seven (?) years straight – I need a break. Let’s stay on land for a bit.

I’m not going to say our marriage is perfect, how nauseating would that be, but we have a pretty great relationship. He spoils me and in exchange, I pretty much let him do anything he wants. Now that he has Roy to hang out with and who never tells him no, (and who worships the ground he walks on), he has a buddy to go do things with – go to garage sales, fix things around the house, projects, go fishing … everything that I hate to do. lol

In return, I get to do what I want to do on the weekends – keep myself company, read, write, take naps, it’s a win-win situation, to be honest.

Our wedding was pretty low key. Since neither one of us belong to a church, I shopped around for churches until I found a really pretty one and we rented it. We paid for our own wedding and we kept it cheap. (Side note: my mom made my dress – isn’t it pretty!?) But we couldn’t justify spending thousands of dollars on something that would last two hours and be over with. We preferred to save our money and spend it on the honeymoon (Cozumel Mexico).

A friend of mine did my makeup and hair, we drank punch out of fancy paper cups and I wore ballet slippers because I didn’t want to be taller than Kevin. Kevin forgot to wear black socks with his tux so the photographer, (who nearly had a heart attack), had to put my bouquet of flowers in front of him to disguise his white basketball socks when he sat on the pew steps for pictures – good times.

I knew he was the one as soon as I met him. I didn’t think about marriage when I met him, but I knew what I felt for him was different than what I felt for any other guy. He made me laugh, he made me want to be a better person. He was frugal (he was going to school to be an accountant – DREAM MAN), resourceful, smart and sweet.

Our marriage has not been perfect, we’ve had our shares of ups and downs (7-year itch – that was a really tough, unpleasant year and that’s all I’ll say about that), but we grew, we changed, we adapted. I can honestly say we’re not the same people we were when we got married, we’re better.

What’s the secret to our successful marriage? Patience. Respect. Communication. Carving out time for each other. Really, what I’m telling you is nothing new. All of the marriage advice sites you read tips on are right – it’s about listening and appreciating each other and not taking each other for granted though I confess, we do that sometimes.

I can’t imagine sharing my life with anyone else. I have a very difficult time allowing anyone close to my heart, but I can honestly say that Kevin is near and dear to me and that scares me a bit. I was reading back when he had his motorcycle accident in 2010 and I can’t begin to describe to you the debilitating fear I felt when went to the hospital for the first time and saw him lying there so helpless – he’s the least helpless person I’ve ever known in my life. I think that accident also brought us closer – how can you not be drawn closer to a person when he relies on you to help him poop?

I think people regard marriage as throwaway events nowadays. “Well, if this doesn’t work out, we’ll just get divorced.” I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard people say that and it horrifies me. If you honestly think that, then do yourself, your partner, and any future children a favor, don’t get married. If you’re already looking for ways to get out of a serious commitment before it even begins, there’s your sign – don’t go down that road.

We made a pact, we would never mention the “D” word. And we haven’t, save for that patchy 7-year itch period of time. Any fights we had, we cooled down, we listened to each other, we owned up to our own shortcomings and assumptions and we compromised. You have to be willing to swallow a bitter humility pill once, twice, a hundred times, when you’re married for the long haul.

I found this interesting bit on how to have a successful relationship from Tech Insider. Watch, learn, absorb, practice.

Abundant Life

Do You Have Enough Time For God?

June 5, 2016June 4, 2016 Karen

I confess, I get distracted. I wouldn’t say I have a short attention span, I’m capable of focusing on tasks and getting things done, especially when I have a deadline, (I work better with looming deadlines), but I do tend to get sucked into things: a book, a TV series, YouTube, (Good LORD, YouTube sucks so much of my time – then again, I LET IT) … and I absolutely don’t utilize my time wisely on the weekends. I’m lazy, comfortable. Which, I suppose is the whole reason behind a weekend – I’ve taxed my brain so much throughout the week, the last thing I want to do is do any more thinking so I tend to gravitate toward things that don’t require thinking: reading, watching videos, listening to music …

So I would absolutely agree I get distracted and should spend more time with God. Me, Kevin and Roy sit in the living room after Sunday dinner every week and watch a few of the Truth or Tradition videos, which is better than nothing, I suppose, and these videos always bless us, but I don’t read the Bible. Kevin, on the other hand, reads his Bible every morning before work. (I admit it, he’s a better person than I am).

As far as “stuff”, I don’t really have a problem with “stuff.” Sure, we are comfortable and I would be pretty upset if we had a house fire and we lost everything, but my world wouldn’t be destroyed – it would be inconvenienced. In fact, this is one of the reasons I get so irritated with Kevin and Roy when they hit the garage sales all weekend and come home with “stuff,” it’s just more clutter in my eyes. Though to be completely fair, Kevin usually finds things that we can use, or were needing, for pennies on the dollar, so it’s not all completely useless.

Clutter is so claustrophobic. It’s hard to think when you’re surrounded by noise – whether that’s physical noise or mental noise. (Our neighbor’s garage across the street is so packed with JUNK they can’t even park their cars in there. I’m pretty sure I would go insane with that much clutter). I think that’s why people love going to the beach and the mountains so much – wide open spaces, fresh air and silence – it gives us a chance to clear our minds and de-clutter our mental closets.

That’s why I like this video – it’s a reminder to step back, assess what is around us and get our priorities straight. I love his parable at the end of this video – it really makes me think – exactly what have I given back to God?

Every Sunday I provide videos and valuable links to the Truth or Tradition teachings. We’ve been following the Truth or Tradition teachings for many years now and they have truly blessed our family. We have found peace and happiness through our beliefs and we walk confidently for God. My hope, by passing on this information to you, is that what you find here, or on the Truth or Tradition website, will guide you to a better, more blessed and abundant life.

Thanks for watching.

Check out Truth or Tradition teachings on:

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More from Write From Karen

Fiction Fix, Writing Stuff

Friday Fix: You Will Never Forget Me

June 3, 2016June 2, 2016 Karen

friday-fix
Prompt: You are sitting on a park bench when someone shouts your name.

Wait, what?

Cassidy looked up from her drawing pad. The wind whistled softly across her face and blew a few strands of washed out green-dyed hair into her mouth.

“Cassie! Over here!”

She absently reached up and removed the hair from her mouth. It tasted like cream cheese. Why would her hair taste like cream cheese? She shrugged, lifted some strands in front of her eyes and studied it like she had never seen her own hair before. A tuft of hair was indeed moist. She shrugged and placed the hair back into her mouth.

“Bet you can’t catch me, Cassie!”

She straightened her back, sat bolt upright on the bench and looked around. “Don’t call me that!” She yelled into the wind.

A little girl’s laughter rang out on the cool morning breeze.

“I’m right here, Cassie! Can’t you see me?”

Cassidy shoved the drawing pad under her arm and stood up. “I said, STOP. CALLING. ME. THAT!”’ she barked out. She began to walk toward the gray and white building.

“Okay fine, Cass-i-dy,” the voice rang out, drawing her name out in sarcastic syllables. “Go inside and act like a baby. I don’t want to play with you anyway.”

Cassidy’s purposeful stride toward the house faltered. Why did that voice sound so familiar? She titled her head to one side and puckered her mouth – it was her thinking pose. She thought it made her look smart. Wait. She WAS smart. The doctors said so.

“You’re too stupid to find me anyway,” the voice taunted.

Cassidy froze. A small trickle of anger began dripping into her drug-induced awareness. “I am not stupid,” she whispered, her words being whisked away by the strong, salty breeze.

‘You ARE stupid, Cassie, even mom thought so,” the voice matured. The sound triggered a deep sadness. She could also feel a long-forgotten rage tickling her nerve endings.

Cassidy spun around. Seeing nothing, she spun around again. Her eyes turned wild and she began to hyperventilate. “Laura,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits as she sought out the source of the voice.

“You think you can get rid of me?”

“I DID get rid of you,” Cassidy responded. “I buried you in Old Man Winter’s woods.”

“Are you sure about that?” the voice whispered followed by a sly chuckle.

Cassidy cocked her head again and listened more closely. She thought the sound might be coming from behind the rock wall surrounding the bird bath. She cautiously stepped forward. Doubt tickled her spine and she shivered in reaction.

“This is not real,” Cassidy whimpered, her once purposeful stride now little more than a shuffle, her confidence shattering into a million ice shards.

“Of course this is real. I will never abandon you, little sister,” the voice turned hard as granite. “I exist to torment your black soul. I will never allow you forgot what you did to me.”

Tears began to roll down Cassidy’s face, though she was unaware of her wet cheeks. “You are so mean to me, Laura. Why do you hate me so much?”

“No one can love an ugly, stupid piece of shit, like you, Cassie. No one will ever love you. Mom and dad couldn’t stand to look at you, you were such an embarrassment to them. And Josh …”

Cassidy’s body turned to stone at the mention of Josh’s name. “Shut up,” she whispered, her voice raw with anguish.

“Josh only pretended to love you so he could get closer to me. If you hadn’t walked in on us, we’d be married now, with our own brats to torment…” the voice sizzled, like acid on skin.

“Shut up … shut up … SHUT UP!” Cassidy screamed. She dropped her drawing pad and began pulling her hair. Her mind cracked then splintered apart as wave after wave of memories came crashing into the black hole of her mind she had always sheltered. She dropped to the ground and began pounding her head against the concrete.

Men in white coats came running toward her.

Laura’s laughter dissipated into Cassidy’s screams.

Each man took hold of Cassidy’s arms and dragged her up. A streak of crimson stained the ground and Cassidy’s forehead had an angry red gash slashed across it. The men half carried, half dragged her back to the gray and white building. Her screams echoed back toward the courtyard.

After several long moments, a prim and proper girl stepped from behind a tree. She pulled a small spiral notepad and pencil from her pocket and gleefully checked off a name.

“That was too easy,” she mumbled to herself. “I really thought she would be harder to break.” She happily sighed and looked around the courtyard. Even though Cassidy’s dramatic exit was loud and disruptive, the other residents continued to wander aimlessly around the area, their zombie-like steps monotonous in their slowness.

The girl frowned. Every single breath from their crazy, stupid mouths annoyed and angered her.

She tapped her lips thoughtfully, her nearly black-colored eyes scanning each individual in turn.

A slow, malicious smile spread across her thin face. “Ah Eric … there you are.” She casually strolled toward her next victim.

Throw Back Thursday

Let Him Ride a Two-Wheeler Again? #TBT

June 2, 2016May 30, 2016 Karen

Me and Kevin on his dirt bike. This was back before he had his accident in 2010.

This was actually before he bought his beautiful street bike, drove it for 200 miles and then had his accident.

I’ve never really liked motorcycles. They scare me. Not so much for the driver, but because people have so many distractions when they drive now, no one really pays attention to what is going on around them, let alone keeping an eye out for someone on a motorcycle.

I rode with him on the dirt bike once (twice?) but never on the big bike. It’s not that they scare me, per say, but that I wasn’t sure it was wise for both of us to be on the bike – what if we got into an accident? The kids wouldn’t have parents anymore.

But it was fun the few times I rode with him.

It’s been six years since his accident. He’s back to normal save for the huge plates, screws and bolts that is now his pelvis. He has a slight limp but overall, walks just fine. I can’t imagine how our lives would have been different if he hadn’t been able to walk again – he’s so active!!

His motorcycle days are over. I made him promise me he would never ride again. Which is sad considering he loved it so much. We were so freaked out that we even sold our bicycles.

But enough time has gone by that we’re considering riding bikes again. In fact, we have ridden a few times. Since Kevin and Roy are so into garage sales now, they have actually bought five bikes – one for each of us. We’re planning on taking them out on the bike trails sometime this summer. We used to do that when the boys were little. I have no idea if the boys will be willing to do that now, but hey, at least we have bikes for them if they say yes.

I’m always hopeful.

Work Stuff

I Am a Certified Medical Assistant

June 1, 2016May 30, 2016 Karen

I passed my Certified Medical Assistant test. I went through this site, in case there are any other medical assistants out there thinking about taking this test.

cma What does that mean, exactly? Well, not to belittle the position because DUDE, I KNOW, it basically means I’m mentally capable of being a doctor’s minion.

The test was … harder than I thought it would be. It went beyond simply knowing the information, they asked questions that applied that knowledge. For example, phlebotomy, (which is the name of the specialty for people who draw blood). “If you’re drawing blood to test for this condition, what color tube would you use?”

ACK!

That was pretty much my first question and I immediately broke out in a sweat. And FYI: KNOW PHLEBOTOMY inside and out. There are a TON of questions on the test about this area. Oh, and EKG’s, but mostly phlebotomy.

Let me back up.

The hospital presented an incentive for medical assistants to become certified. They promised a pay increase and a bonus – you got so much money up front and if you stuck around for one year, you would get the other half of this bonus. Sweet deal, right?? Not to mention, having more certified staff makes the hospital look good, right?

For those of you that don’t know, I sort of fell into this whole medical assistant thing. I have never had aspirations of doing ANYTHING in the medical field. And my end goal is not to become a nurse – nurses are great, legendary really, but I have neither the patience nor the desire to become a nurse. I’m happy where I am, thank you very much.

No. I applied to the hospital back in 2011 because of Obamacare. I was concerned for my family’s healthcare. Kevin’s company had liquidated and he was setting up his own business, which meant we didn’t have healthcare, and the healthcare we could qualify for was astronomically expensive. I was thinking about going back-to-work at that time anyway, (I had been a stay-at-home mom for seven years), so I applied at a local hospital.

I feel like I’ve told this story before. Sorry if you’ve heard this one …

I got an interview. It was with the insurance processing part of the hospital. My first interview went really well and I landed a second interview with my peers. That one didn’t go as well. I guess they didn’t like me because I didn’t get the job.

Then I got another interview. It was for a scheduling position with neurosurgery. I didn’t even know what neurosurgery was.

I landed that job and started in September of 2011. It was AWESOME. It was fast paced and challenged me daily. So much so that I would often go home crying with frustration because in essence, I was being asked to learn a whole new language – adapt to a whole new world, really.

I took care of three, sometimes four, doctors’ scheduling needs. Once the patient had seen the doctor, they would be asked to stop at my desk and schedule follow-up appointments and/or testing. I loved it. I’ve always been a good multi-tasker and it took all of my “talents”, if you will, to do this job.

About three years into it and things started changing. The hospital needed to downsize and they were eliminating the scheduling jobs. So, we could either become medical assistants or lose our jobs.

One guess which option I chose.

I was thrust into a world I neither knew, nor really wanted, to be perfectly honest. But never one to turn my back on a challenge, I dove in, head first.

I listened. I read. I absorbed every aspect of the job. Google became, (still is), my best friend. Some of the best advice my old boss gave me was, “patients will never know you don’t know what you’re doing if what you do is with confidence.” She was absolutely right. I became a master bull-shitter.

That’s not to say I didn’t do my job correctly, I just made damn sure the patient didn’t doubt what I was doing.

I learned to take blood pressures. I learned to take out sutures and staples. I learned to read, and respond, to verbal cues and body language. I learned when to be seen but not heard around the doctors. I learned to gauge the doctor’s moods and adjust accordingly. I learned when to ask questions and when to listen.

I assimilated to a world I knew nothing about. I’m sort of proud of myself for that, truth be known.

Here’s the kicker: I don’t really like people. I mean, I’m okay being around people and I’m genuinely interested in their stories, for about two seconds, and I’m both sympathetic and empathetic to their complaints , but given the choice of being around people all the time?

Not so much.

When the hospital started pushing us toward certification, I became concerned. I already felt like a fraud because I hadn’t gone to school to do what I was doing and most everyone I worked with had years of medical experience in different departments, they already knew medical terminology, physiology and anatomy, I did not.

Most of my peers passed their certification in no time flat. “Oh, you’ll do fine, Karen. Don’t worry about it,” was their confident responses to my doubts but bottom line?

I didn’t know squat.

So. I started staying after work and studying. And unlike my peers, I didn’t tell anyone when I was planning on taking the test. That way, if I bombed it, no one was the wiser, right? I wouldn’t have to endure pitiful looks of sympathy.

This test cost $150 dollars. So if I was going to commit to this, I WAS GOING TO COMMIT. That’s a chunk of change to just throw against the wall and hope it sticks.

Studying was difficult. I felt like I was cramming four years of medical school into six weeks. But once I got into it, a light bulb sort of went off and I started to “get it.” And it was interesting. I made flash cards and started searing the information into my brain. It took me close to six months of studying after my peers had already passed their tests before I felt comfortable enough to take it.

I registered, paid my money and committed to a date.

The date approached and I started to panic. In fact, I woke up a few nights in a cold sweat and my heart going crazy. It was another panic attack. I knew I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t FEEL ready. So I called the company up and re-scheduled my testing date out another four weeks.

I hit the material harder than before. That was all I could think about for that four weeks. The date approached.

The nearest testing facility was in Aurora, Missouri, at a teeny, tiny airport. That was about 45 minutes from Springfield. What a weird place to have a test. Kevin and I drove out there the weekend before to find it because I know me – if I got all stressed trying to find the place then I would be too stressed to take the test. (It is across the street from the old drive-in in Aurora, for those of you from the area).

I took the Friday off before the test date (it was at 8:00 AM on Saturday morning) so I would have one last chance to cram for the test. I’m so glad I did that, I think that really helped calm my nerves as opposed to working all day the day before and not really having a chance to look over my notes before getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to get ready and drive out there the next day.

THE DAY ARRIVED.

I was nervous, but not petrified. I felt confident enough that I could squeak by. I needed a minimum of 70% to pass. No one would need to know my score. The only thing I needed to do was just pass the damn thing – that’s all the hospital really cared about.

I got to the airport at 7:45 AM. It was completely dark and there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

I went up to the door, knocked, cupped my hands over my eyes to see if anyone was inside. Nope. No one.

Now I’m starting to get annoyed. I went to all of this trouble of preparing, of sweating, of being nervous and no one bothers to show up?!? About the time I finish that thought, I see an SUV coming down the long road to the building. And my very next thought is, “I hope that’s the testing person because how creepy would it be to be out in the middle of nowhere and some guy drives up and I’m by myself, not a soul around ….” Then my imagination runs away with me, which is par for the course for me – was this all a set up to get defenseless medical wannabes out in the middle of no where and kidnap them? Was I going to be a sex slave?

I wonder how much they would charge for my services?

Wait. Where was I … oh yeah, the car is driving up.

A man, a woman and a teenager get out of the car. They open up the building and ask me to take a seat. About five minutes later, a guy walks in. “Is this where you take the … ” the last part of what he says fades away from me, I simply nod my head. Let’s get this party started before I forget everything! Was what I was really thinking. I didn’t want to do a brain dump before I took the test!

We checked in, he checked our ID’s, then we were asked to put our phones, purse, (well, I was the only one who had a purse), jackets and yes, even my fitbit, into a basket. We were then escorted into a tiny room off the main office area. There were two computers with a partition between them. We sat down but were asked not to touch anything. The guy pulls our specific tests up (because this is a test site for all sorts of licenses and certifications) and we are asked to log in but not to start the test.

We have one piece of paper and one pencil. That’s it. And we’re instructed to leave the piece of paper in the room, we are not to take it with us when we leave.

We have exactly 120 minutes to take the test. Then we begin.

I had already taken a practice test (well, several actually) so I knew there would be plenty of time to answer 200 questions. But still, the first question threw me for a loop and I started to panic. All of my confidence flew out of the window and I started sweating. I took a breath, forced myself to calm down and re-read the question. I processed it by eliminating the “no way is it those answers” and gave it my best educated guess. The second question was easier and I knew the answer to that one, so save for that brief terrifying moment of getting past the first question, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. However, I REALLY wish I had studied phlebotomy a bit more. Not so much the technical aspect of it, but the WHYS of it. (Let that be a warning to anyone out there wanting to take this test).

The only thing I used the paper for was one calculation on how many beats per minute on an EKG strip.

The guy who was taking a test with me got done way before me. But that was okay. Again, I just forced myself to breathe and focus on passing this damn thing. It took me a little over an hour to complete the test. But I felt like I had to guess on so many phlebotomy questions, that I left the facility QUITE convinced that I had failed.

I was devastated. I cried on the way home. But since I had to drive 45 minutes to get home, I had come to terms with my perceived failure by the time I arrived home. The big con to this entire process was you didn’t find out your score right away. But there were a few of my peers who had taken the same test at the same test site and said that I would be able to sign on to my account on Sunday, sometime, after they emailed me, to find out my score.

I tortured myself all that night. “I’m so dumb! What was thinking?!? I didn’t know what the hell was doing. Why did I just blow $150 bucks??” It went on and on.

By Sunday morning, I was already past my self-loathing stage and planning to take the test again. THANK GOD I hadn’t told anyone I was taking the test that weekend!! I’m not sure I could handle the humiliation.

Finally, about 1:00 in the afternoon, I received an email. My test score was online! I signed on and I literally closed my eyes and then peeked with dread at my score.

I PASSED!!!!!!! True, my score wasn’t as high as I had hoped it would be, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be either. And the section I did the worst on? Yep. Phlebotomy.

hooray Screw it. I PASSED!!

A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I told my boss that next Monday and an email was sent out congratulating me. Everyone was so nice and supportive. My boss notified human resources and they got the ball rolling on my monetary reward. They gave me a new badge with CMA on it and I proudly wear that.

I do have to take so many credits every two years in order to keep my certified status. And of course I have to pay to renew my certification every two years, but the continued education are short courses you take online, through the site, that is included with your renewal cost, so it’s not all bad. And honestly, I’m sort of looking forward to reading the material because it will only help me understand my job that much more.

Damn dog, I’m a CMA!