August 22 – “Don’t try this at home”

Because of the incomprehensible generosity of my beloved wife, I was blessed to undertake one of those oh-so-dreaded experiences that have the potential of mind-boggling pain and agony.  That’s right.  What else could it be?  I went to the dentist.  Chris made us appointments for some time in October, but they called and offered to move her appointment because of a cancellation.  Mind you, it was supposed to be her appointment they were offering to move up, not mine.  But that loving wife of mine, thinking only that should I end up having back surgery I might miss out on my appointment, so graciously requested that she be allowed to give up her spot to her back-damaged husband.  They agreed.  I mean, after all, who doesn’t want to help out senior citizen?  Looks good on their resume, I guess.

So I rushed out after water therapy to be on time for a dental cleaning.  That’s all it was supposed to be for.  Of course I had to fill out a boatload of paperwork relating to insurance and my medications and my medical history.  I thought they had all this stuff from the last time I was there.  I was quite the compliant patient, though.  No arguments from me.  And once I turned in the paperwork they immediately called me back with that ominous, “Mr. Vaughan?” voice. 

The hygienist was very nice.  Did some preliminary preparation things, like look at my history, which led her to ask, “Have you been to a dentist anywhere else since the last time you were here?”  Oh, no.  Not me.  I assured her I was as loyal as a puppy dog.  Yes, I really said that.  The thing was, the guy who was my dentist hadn’t been there for several years.  I think he retired.  So that meant a whole array of x-rays and baseline tests.  Great fun.  When she left to develop the x-rays I snuck off to make a quick bathroom break.  Wasn’t quick enough, though.  She beat me back by a few seconds.  It was worth it. Though, to see the puzzled look on her face.  She told me she had never lost a patient like that.  I told her I was happy to oblige in furthering her scrapbook of experiences. 

And then she started her work in earnest.  And it didn’t take long to discover that I am an unbelievable anomaly to the dental world.  I have essentially perfect teeth and perfect gums.  Oh, and I haven’t been to a dentist in (drumroll here) … thirteen years.  And to top it all off, when she asked if I floss, I replied, “Not really.”  See, that’s a nice way of saying flat out, “No way” to someone whose career is predicated on the “You must floss every day” lecture.  But I was brutally honest.  I don’t floss.  Now, kids … don’t try this at home.  It will not bode well for you to invoke the “I read it on the internet” excuse in this particular case, even if the author is a pastor.  I can tell you now, it’s not gonna fly.  The hygienist did finally ask, “Well, you DO brush twice a day, don’t you?”  That I do.  That I do. 

When she finished up her cleaning, and came up with a completely positive report (“Keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.  And … you really should floss”), she turned me over to my new dentist.  And I have to say up front the cute young thing that stuck her fingers in my mouth was way better looking than my old friend from thirteen years ago.  Sorry, Dr. Robby.  My new doc was pretty impressed as well, but she did find a filling that was having some trouble staying attached.  After all, it has been thirteen years of me chomping on Cheetos and washing them down with sweet tea and eating the ice (never been one to waste a good ice chomp).  She recommended fixing the filling and putting a cap on the whole thing.  Whatever you say, Doc.  Whatever you say.  Of course we’ll have to run that by the insurance company first.  I’ll have to get back to her on that appointment.  I did make a return appointment to have another cleaning in six months.  Can’t remember ever doing that.  But maybe it’s better that waiting thirteen years.  Let’s see.  That’ll put me at … 75 years old.  Still but a spring chicken. 

1 Thessalonians 3:13 says, “May he strengthen your hearts so that you will be blameless and holy in the presence of our God and Father when our Lord Jesus comes with all his holy ones.”

Father, thank you for the good report.  I needed that.  Amen.

August 21 – “Couples therapy”

Chris and I had quite the adventure in the rain yesterday.  We ventured out at our usual time, around 7:30 a.m.  We only had to make it to the indoor pool located behind WalMart, but it’s the other side of WalMart from us.  That meant we had to drive up to the seawall and all the way around.  And it was raining.  Really raining.  Hard.  And it had been for some time.  And the streets were quite flooded.  By the time we reached WalMart we had to make a decision.  Continue on to water aerobics or turn around and abort the mission?  Our first instinct was to abort.  We even pulled into a gas station parking lot.  But upon further review, we decided to throw caution to the wind and forge ahead.  As it turned out the rest of the journey was quite uneventful.  Still a lot of rain, but I guess the street drainage was more advanced.  Plenty of parking places at the facility, too.  In fact, when we got inside we found our class of 25 had dwindled to us and one other couple and the instructor.  A private lesson.  Or, as we affectionately called it … couples therapy.  We did some very different activities that would not be possible with a full class, some of which involved partnering up with your spouse.  It was really a lot of fun.  Tough workout, too.

Oh, and we had a mini-crisis back at home.  One of our neighbors brought over a package she had retrieved from the vacant house across the street.  It was addressed to Chris.  It was none other than her Precious Moments Club membership figurine.  The box appeared to be fine, but when she opened it … horror of horrors.  It was broken.  First time that has ever happened in all the years she has been a collector.  Not a bad break, just a tiny little butterfly with a wing snapped off.  But broken nonetheless.  That will never do.  She now has on her list to give them a call and lobby for a replacement.  We’ll see how that one pans out.

1 Thessalonians 3:12 says, “May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else, just as ours does for you.”

Father, thank you for the rain and for the adventure of driving in it and for our couples therapy time together.  Special moments.  Amen.

August 20 – “The WalMart Intrusion”

Well, the neurosurgeon’s office called back altogether too quickly for my taste.  And at such an inconvenient time.  We were in WalMart.  How dare they interfere at such a crucial juncture of my day?  And at WalMart … the paradise of people-watching, the watershed of one-stop-shopping.  How do they expect me to calmly and coolly take direction for meeting with a neurosurgeon who is most certainly wanting to cut open my back?  Sigh.  We pulled over just behind the bicycles and I reluctantly took the call.  Sure enough, it was the front office wanting to make arrangements for an appointment.  They also wanted to make sure I brought the CD with the MRI pictures on it.  Oh, and I was to go online to the website they would send me a link to, and fill out my complete medical history … before Friday.  Why before Friday?  Because the appointment is Monday.  Whoa.  That’s just about the quickest ever specialist appointment I can remember.  Add to my to do list for Thursday: computer work.  That’s to go along with water exercise, home group preparation, and taking the car in to the shop for an oil change. 

On a more positive note, we were in WalMart.  We saw a set of twins.  They were connected to a firefighter Mommy and Daddy.  Just turned one year old – the twins, not Mommy and Daddy.  Also saw some on duty fire fighters.  They were gathering some bottles of electrolytes.  Tough day of outdoor-in-the-heat-and-humidity training. 

Oh, and I did have one more item of interest arise after we got home.  Took a phone call asking if I could do a wedding … this Sunday night.  In Baytown.  In a backyard.  Not a problem.  They invited Chris to come as well, so we will make an evening of it.  And the best part of it all?  They begged me not to dress up.  Shorts and an Island shirt.  Yes, please.

I didn’t quite make it to the end of the Astros game.  Had to bail in the eleventh inning.  Just couldn’t keep my eyes open.  Read in the paper today that they won it in the thirteenth.  That’s my Astros.

1 Thessalonians 1:2-3 says, “We always thank God for all of you, mentioning you in our prayers.  We continually remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Father, I admit I am not looking forward to this whole possible back surgery ordeal.  I could use some of your peace, but hold onto it until Monday afternoon.  Amen.

August 19 – “ITSASNAP”

Well, I put off calling the neurosurgeon for as long as I could.  They finally called me first.  It was just an initial, fact-gathering mission on the part of their front office team, but it was “the call” nonetheless.  They verified my insurance information, heard my symptoms “from the horses’ mouth,” and just when I was opening my calendar for the inevitable booking … they said the neurosurgeon had yet to review the MRI results, so they would get back to me after that happened to make an appointment.  So … we are on hold once again.

Speaking of hospitals and surgeries, we made a trip into Texas yesterday to see Jennifer, our poster child for the International/Texas Society of “Ankle Surgery Not A Problem.”  I’m sure you’ve heard of ITSASNAP.  Jennifer is a charter member of that quite exclusive club.  Well, actually I think she might be the only member.  She is currently in the hospital in Houston – again – for more surgeries on her ankle.  I have lost count, but I think she passed surgery number eleven and is awaiting surgery number twelve on Thursday.  She has had broken ankles and infections and pin rejections – you name it.  If it can be done in the realm of orthopedic surgeries (on ankles), Jennifer could probably write the book on it.  She seems to have a great attitude right now, though.  She keeps an extensive notebook of all her dealings with doctors.  She assures us she is behaving herself and doing whatever the doctors ask of her.  Well, I certainly believe the second part – she will do whatever the docs say – but I’m just not so sure about that “behaving herself” part.  You gotta leave room for having a little fun, even in the hospital.  Especially when you’re going to be living there for a few weeks.  Hang in there, Jennifer.  ITSASNAP is proud of you.  So are we. 

Colossians 4:6 says, “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.”

Father, continue to hold Jennifer’s hand as she goes through yet another bout of surgeries and rehabs.  Amen.

August 18 – “A purple what?”

I made an early morning hospital visit yesterday.  I went to UTMB to pray with a couple we have known since I did their wedding on the beach about 20 years ago and they ended up coming to Seaside.  Mike eventually became the youth pastor and Cindy became the pastor’s secretary and then the administrative assistant of Seaside Christian Academy.  Quite the story of growth there, wouldn’t you say?  Cindy was scheduled for surgery to investigate a possible tumor causing a lot of pain in her leg.  As they wheeled her into the surgery suite her parting words were, “Make sure you ask the doc if this tumor was a boy or a girl.”  And that was before the medication even kicked in.  Love ya, Cindy.

Did I mention that I finally had some candles to blow out the other night?  Cailyn made some homemade waffles for supper.  Green waffles.  And she put candles in each serving, even her own.  Before we could eat we had to sing the Happy birthday song to each other. 

Last night we had our family birthday party over at Kel and Christina’s.  Nathan and April came, too, so there was a mass migration to Texas as far as the Vaughan clan was concerned.  Then Josh and his boys FaceTimed us, so the connection was complete.  Kel’s kids and Cailyn took off with the iPad and gave Zak and Caleb a tour of their house, so Josh called back on Chris’ phone and we got to talk to Luke for a while.  We came out of the evening quite nicely.  Gift card to Gringo’s.  Mexican food for Chris and a date.  Hope it’s me.  She also got a jewelry box from Cailyn.  Nathan and April got her a bicycle helmet and a cell phone holder for the brand new purple bike she got from me.  I know that means I will probably be getting one soon as well.  I’m trying to hold out for a motorized scooter, though.  Maybe I can plead the back pain excuse. 

Speaking of which, I called the neurologist’s office to get the results of my blood tests and MRI.  Blood work first.  I have to take vitamin B12 shots or nasal spray, whichever is cheaper and/or covered by insurance.  OK, not a problem.  I haven’t googled that one to see what super power I have been missing because of it.  The other stuff seemed to be inconsequential enough that no other action was recommended.  Then came the MRI.  I asked for the results of it, and her answer was, “We have faxed the results over to Dr. Weil so you can discuss it with him.”  OK, wait a minute.  When did Dr. Weil come into the picture?  He is the neurosurgeon who did my last three neck surgeries.  I finally convinced her to read off the results to me.  Sure enough, the stenosis in my lumbar area apparently warrants at least a discussion with a neurosurgeon.  Wonderful.  There’s a phone call I admit I am not anxious to make.  Sigh.  The drama that is my journey through pain continues. 

Colossians 4:2-3 says, “Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful.  And pray for us, too.”

Father, thank you for our family and for times when we can all come together.  And thank you for the pain, too.  I know I don’t need to know the whys, so I’ll keep on trusting you for those.  Amen.

August 17 – “Happy birthday, Chris Vaughan!”

Yep.  There it is.  All over FaceBook.  Today is my lovely wife’s birthday.  About 29 years old, as I recall.  Maybe a little younger.  I get confused with this new-fangled way of doing math.  But however old she is, she’s been a real sweetheart to me for the last 40 40 plus years.  She came through with three amazing boys, and she’s a right decent Nana/Nani to their kids, too.  I’m prepared to keep her around for as long as it takes.  And I predict it will take a long time.  A very long time. 

Speaking of Chris, she witnessed a car wreck yesterday.  I was with her, but I was otherwise occupied, I think with my cell phone.  It was actually just a little fender bender.  The guy right in front of us ran into the car in front of him.  The car that got hit pulled into the service station right there at the corner of Stewart road and 61^st street.  But the offender did not stop.  He was making a getaway attempt.  Excitement happening, right before our very eyes.  What else could we do?  We felt sorry for the poor guys who got hit.  Hope his insurance rates don’t go up too much.  It’s just not fair that he should have to suffer for something that clearly wasn’t his fault.  So we did what any advocate for fairness would have done … we chased him.  Actually, we just kept going the direction we were headed anyway.  When we got close enough to him, I snapped a picture of the back of his car to get his license plate number.  Nailed it.  We had him.  Incriminating photo in hand, we headed back to the service station to check on the other guy and offer up our witness statement.  Chris pulled around and entered the service station parking lot from the back.  She drove to where the other guy had been parked, but he wasn’t there anymore.  I guess he decided not to report it.  Oh, well.  So much for our attempt to be a hero.  Hey, if someone rear-ended your little red car the other day, let me know and I’ll send you the photo.

Well, it’s time for week two of water therapy, so I’m off.  Happy birthday to you, Chris.  I love you. 

Colossians 3:18-19 says, “Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.  Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them.”

Father, thank you for my wife.  It’s hard to say anything more, because it just wouldn’t be enough.  Amen.

August 16 – “A rat story”

It seems that Josh and Christi have their very own rat story.  I will endeavor to tell it to the best of my ability, for it is way more extensive than any I have ever personally experienced.  As was the fix.  Sounded expensive.  Now, their local exterminator was pulling his hair out, because no matter what he did, about once a month Josh and Christi noticed fleas.  Highly unusual since they have no pets.  They do live in the woods, but one would think with all the measures they have taken the problem would have been long since eradicated.  Not so much.  Therefore the indomitable Christi had worked her way up the complaint chain to a regional service manager.  He came out himself to do a personal inspection that lasted well past the three hour mark.  When he came down from the attic asking for a garbage bag, Josh knew they were in trouble.  He was right.  The guy returned to the attic and came back with not one but three deceased rat offenders.  One rat had accidentally impaled itself on a nail.  One died of apparently natural causes.  Old age.  I think the other one had a heart attack when he saw the exterminator had discovered their hiding place.  They were all covered with fleas and were lying in state right near the AC vent leading into the living room.  Fleas had been enjoying a carnival ride like no other for a long, long time – free fall base jumping onto the soft carpet below with no parachute.  The exterminator regional supervisor promised to bring a team out to plug up every crease and crevice anywhere in their house – and there were apparently many.  He also warned them not to go into the attic until his team had completed their work.  He had set out dozens of traps, “and they will take your finger off,” so it was just too dangerous to go up there.  Hey, it’s not like the boys played hide and seek up in the thousand degree attic.  Not a difficult order to follow.  And it sounded … Yep.  Expensive.  But Christi didn’t flinch.  No matter what the cost … the rats must go.  But he wasn’t done yet with his report.  Seems he found a surprise under the house that they didn’t know they had.  Every time the toilet flushed, an array of water spewed onto the ground beneath the house.  And onto the subflooring.  “I’m afraid you need to call a plumber.”  Sounded expensive.

So for the next few nights before the extermination team came, they heard mysterious snapping and scraping and scuffling sounds from overhead.  When the team finally arrived a few days later, they only found two dead-in-a-trap rats.  Seems the customary rat way of doing things includes turning on each other when they get caught in a trap.  Hey, you gotta blame somebody.  The sound Josh and Christi so blissfully fell asleep to over those few nights had been the two trapped rats battling each other for the right to be the last to die.  Whoah.  Sounds really weird to me.  But then I’m not a connoisseur of rat culture.

The plumber arrived and confirmed the leak.  And the expense.  He said he could fix it all right, but it was a bit more extensive than they might have imagined.  All the pipes under the house were original – to the 19^th century (well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the 20^th century for sure).  They were crumbling in his hands.  The toilet was fine, but a retiling job in years past had not been completed correctly, so there was never a really good seal.  He found some mildew, but no mold (silver lining, right?).  Possible new subfloor.  Definite new interior floor.  At the very least repairing the tiling and toilet seal.  And while they are at it, why not go ahead and put in that third bathroom on the other side of the house?  Sounds expensive. 

But he was not done with his report.  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.  I think you need to call an electrician.”  Now, I’ve heard of the trades working together, but this was getting ridiculous.  But it seems that there were electrical lines running alongside the leaking pipes that had not been properly covered after being spliced together.  Not even with electrical tape.  Just wire connectors.  That was a fire waiting to happen.  Just hit the top of the priority list.  Sounded expensive. 

As far as I know the electrician hasn’t come out yet.  And I don’t think the plumber has completed his repair job (much less the new bathroom).  There have been no more rat battles in the attic, though.  At least none they have heard.  Ain’t home ownership grand?

Colossians 3:23-24 says, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”

Father, thank you for the discovery and potential eradication of that flea problem.  Keep them safe while all those repairs are being made.  Amen.