All posts by Dona

Subjective evaluation

Musings, , , ,

When I was young I remember that my cousin, Jim, got a concussion. I don’t remember how it happened, but I remember that everyone was worried. It was the first time I’d heard about concussions and because of it, and until quite recently, thought that concussions were A BIG DEAL. I didn’t realize that there were degrees of concussions. Some were mild, some severe. Some life threatening.

A few years ago one of Andrew’s friends and rugby teammates, Eddie, suffered his second concussion and had to quit playing rugby. I talked to him recently and he still cannot play — although he helps the team out now and then by coaching a game or two. He’s replaced rugby with skiing (and according to an article in the school newspaper, cliff jumping).

A few months ago I heard a broadcast about concussions on National Public Radio. It was around the time a Washington Redskins player (I think it was a Washington Redskin) decided to give up his football career because of concussions. The broadcast discussed new research that had been published about concussions and that they were more dangerous than previously thought.

Nearly 3 weeks ago Andrew suffered a mild concussion playing rugby. Apparently he was playing a position he usually doesn’t play, tackled someone, fell backwards with the person he tackled falling on top of him. Or so that’s what people told him what happened. He didn’t remember any of it. He also was “out of it” for the rest of the game as he watched from the sidelines.

We took him to the ER as soon as his friend drove him home. He was sleepy for a day and stayed home from school, but went to school the next day. By Thursday he seemed fine. I’d taken him to his pediatrician on Monday because I was worried about his sleepiness and the doctor suggested that Andrew be checked out by Children’s Hospital’s SCORE program before he return to sports because Andrew tends to like sports that can result in concussions.

I took him to a 3 hour-long appointment at Children’s yesterday. We were both asked verbal and written questions about the incident, questions about before and after the incident and questions about how Andrew feels now. I answered that everything seems to be back to normal. Andrew did too, except he mentioned that he felt a little tired. Not normally, but that he felt tired that morning. He didn’t mention that he’d spent the previous day out with friends, got to bed late and got up earlier than usual for the appointment.

At the end of the appointment we were brought into the doctor’s office (technically a post-doc student) and told that Andrew was almost completely recovered but since he was reporting fatigue (tired that day?) that they still didn’t want him to participate in sports until he was 100% better and that he needed a professional sports rehab facility to ease him back into sports and then have another session at Children’s in a week.

While I don’t dispute the new research about concussions and I do believe that they are more dangerous than previously thought, I do think that much of what we did yesterday was completely subjective. His CT Scan, right after the concussion was fine. He’s been fine for two weeks — not acting tired at all. The tests he took yesterday were all fine. The only abnormality is that he reported being tired yesterday.

This leads me to wonder if this is standard procedure. A kid who had a concussion comes in for an appointment and no matter what the answers, they set up another appointment and refer them to a sports rehab facility. If so, then I think patients should be told this. We might have tried to get an earlier appointment with the SCORE program if that was the case.

I guess I should be glad that someone is concerned about my son and his brain. I only wish that the evaluations were less subjective. There are so many variables. While the bottom line is the health of the child, I know that my child is itching to get back to sports.

A promise of lilacs

Musings, Things

What is it about the smell of lilacs that can make me wish I was nothing but one huge nose? Is it simply the perfume they emit or is it memories of my childhood? Whatever it is, I wish I could experience it for more than a span of a few days once a year.

I grew up next to Mrs Wewell. She was a kind old woman who had, among other things, a backyard full of lilac bushes. I’m sure there were at least 10, possibly 15 lilac bushes lining her property. For most of the year the bushes were either a dark green barrier or a dense thicket of brown branches separating her yard from the mean old lady who lived behind her. One spectacular week a year, however they were heaven for humans and bees. For one week Mrs Wewell’s backyard was full of white, pink or purple blossoms that smelled wonderful. I’d walk over to her yard and stick my nose into a cluster of flowers and inhale. Then I’d do it again with another cluster. And another. She always let us cut as many bouquets as we wanted, and we usually took enough to fill a vase or two for our living room, bringing the aroma of springtime into our house.

Mrs Wewell eventually moved into her son’s home and sold the house next to us. For years the families that lived there enjoyed the week of lilacs when their yard supplied a lovely scent to the entire neighborhood.

Then John moved in and decided one spring to cut down all the lilac bushes. Not only did he cut them down, he cut them down the week they were in full bloom. I was horrified. I no longer lived with my parents, but visited often (and truth be told was dating John at the time) and couldn’t believe someone would be so cruel as to cut down bushes that brought so much joy to people. As he took a chain saw to the bushes, I ran behind clipping branch after branch laden with lilac blossoms and stuffed them into my car to put in water when I got back to my apartment. It took me several trips to bring the flowers to my apartment and a long time to find enough vases, pans, bottles, and drinking glasses to hold the flowers and put them in all the rooms of my apartment. It smelled lovely for days, and the apartment looked a little like Mrs Wewell’s back yard.

After that spring, I don’t recall the next time I smelled lilacs. Our next door neighbor in Alexandria had a lilac bush, but her soon-to-be ex-husband cut it down, mumbling something about eyesores and powdery mildew. Before he did, though, I’d go to her yard and smell the lilac flowers as often as I could. When I worked at a public school in Alexandria, one of the teacher assistants would bring lilacs in from her yard and put them in a vase in the main office. I’d walk by the office a lot the week they were there, taking huge lungs full of lilac scented air.

lilacs
lilacs

When we moved to the house where we now live I was delighted to see that there was a lilac bush on our property. It is probably technically our neighbors’ — it is right on the property line — but we take care of it. Our lilac bush is ready to bloom, and I’m ready for it. I look forward to the sweet, yet refreshing smell of lilacs.  If there is a Heaven I’m sure it smells like lilacs.

Rupert Rising Bread

Travel, ,
Rupert and the Sunrise
Rupert and the Sunrise

Sometime ago Indigo Bunting wrote a blog post that mentioned getting a sandwich on Rupert Rising Bread. Of course the name made me research it because of my Rupert and I hoped that someday I could taste some of this bread.

Before we headed out on our trip to the North East to visit colleges I did a few searches about Rupert Rising Bread. I found their website that said they provided bread to local restaurants and shops. I thought we might be able to make a detour to the town of Rupert (for photo opportunities as well as bread) but didn’t know if I could actually buy the bread at the bakery. While in Vermont I kept a keen eye out for signs of shops that sold the bread or made sandwiches out of it. I nearly asked the folks at Carol’s Hungry Mind Cafe if they knew where I could buy some in Middlebury but was a little too shy.

I was resigned to not get the treat of Rupert Rising Bread as we headed to Parts West to visit Indigo Bunting and Lali. I knew we would probably chat a while and would not have time to visit the town of Rupert, Vermont.

So I was surprised and delighted when Indigo Bunting mentioned that she’d bought us a loaf of Rupert Rising Bread (which then caused all kinds of chaos while Rupert was brought out to meet Indigo Bunting, Lali and the God Cod).

After we left Parts West we thought of how to best honor this loaf of bread. Indigo Bunting warned us that it should be eaten soon because it had no preservatives so about an hour after we left Parts West we all had a chunk of bread. It was delicious and made us think even harder about what to have it with when we got home.

I suggested Vichyssoise since it was quick, but then remembered we had no potatoes. Dean suggested canned soup. I thought it should have something other that lowly canned soup. I suggested spaghetti with “red sauce. Dean suggested spaghetti with clam sauce. This went on and on and when we got home we were not all that hungry anyway so our first real meal complimented by Rupert Rising Bread was bread and cheese and tomatoes.

Rupert and Rupert Rising Bread
Rupert and Rupert Rising Bread

The next day we planned a better meal — eggplant Parmesan. Dean and Andrew also made sandwiches with it. Tonight we have a few small pieces left and will use it to sop up extra cheese from our au gratin potatoes and gravy from the Easter ham.

It was a rare treat and hopefully someday we’ll get to taste it again.

Thanks, IB. It was well appreciated and not one crumb was wasted.