Witness to history

Okay, so Mother Nature has her good days too

I've done my share of complaining about Mother Nature's bad attitude in recent weeks. Which means it's only fair that I give credit where credit is due when she decides to show her softer side. And that she has over the past four or five days now - showering us with clear blue skies and lots of bright sunshine (albeit still a bit windy and chilly in Portland, but hey, it is January).

So, Friday evening Jeff and I enjoyed a dinner out solo at what has become one of our "date night" staples in town - Wildwood restaurant - while Ian participated in "Parent's Night Out" activities at his preschool. (They host this event once a month on Friday evenings from 6:00pm to 10:00pm where they let the kids play in the gym, then feed them dinner, engage in more activities and then settle down in jammies for a movie until pick-up time. It's definitely a nice little extra!) During dinner we decided that we should take advantage of the sunshine and semi-long weekend (Jeff planned to work on Monday, but from home) to partake in a mini excursion somewhere. By Saturday morning we were even more enthusiastic when we heard the forecast was for mid-40s here in the valley - but oddly enough, in the mid-60s and sunshine on the coast and up at Mount Hood. Weather jackpot! Clearly we couldn't go wrong with either location, but after a few quick calls revealed there were still a few hotel rooms available with great deals in Cannon Beach - a quaint beach town almost due west from Portland with lots of little shops, restaurants and art galleries - we packed up our stuff and headed to the coast.

One lunch stop and a little over an hour later we checked into our one-bedroom suite, which we find is kind of a must-have these days for travel between Ian's 7:30/8:00pm bedtime and our desire to not have to sleep in the same room with him whenever possible (we love him to death, but he's kind of loud). This place wasn't the Ritz or anything, but for a little over a $100 - it was pretty nice. In addition to the separate bedroom, it also had a king bed in the main area, a fully-stocked kitchenette, a living area with a fireplace and a balcony with an unexpected bonus partial view of the ocean across the street. And, as suggested, it was literally steps from the beach. I thought about asking what they charge in the summer, but I decided I didn't want to know.

Before we knew it, we were out on the beach kicking the ball around and playing in the sand. And as promised, the weather was incredible. Jackets not required. Which is crazy because in the relatively short amount of time I've been back on the west coast, I've learned my lesson to wear layers and always bring a coat to the coast - because even if it's sunny and warm inland, it's almost always at least 10 to 15 degrees colder on the coast, often with plenty of wind and fog. Yet, that's one of the reasons why I love the Oregon - and in general - the Pacific coast much more than the mid-Atlantic coast. Unlike the mostly flat beaches of the east coast where people largely flock only in the heat and humidity of the summer months to bake in the sand, it's the weather patterns and beautiful landscapes that make it so unique and awe inspiring. It's a place that can be appreciated any time of year - whether it's watching a big rainstorm come in from the Pacific in November, whale migration in December (an activity we have not done yet but is definitely in our future) or laying on the beach in August. At least that's my opinion.

Still, no one is going to complain about a beautiful, sunny day at the beach in January! And it was apparent that we weren't the only ones who had taken note of the weather forecast because the beach was kind of packed (for winter). By late afternoon we headed back inside when it was clear that Ian was in need of a bit of quiet time...not to mention that we didn't mind having some ourselves! We kicked back in the room, watched the sunset and eventually walked across the street to an unexpectedly nice and yummy meal at a restaurant called the Wayfarer. (Can you say Prime Rib?)

Sunday morning I ventured out to the beach with the camera just before 7:30 am to enjoy the early morning calm and watch the dawn break. So pretty. Someday if we ever win the lotto, a house somewhere along the coast with prime oceanfront views will certainly be tops on the list of extravagant purchases. Of course, I guess first we'd better start actually playing the lotto to help that dream along. Anyway, that was followed by family breakfast at the Pig 'n Pancake (doesn't that just sound like it belongs at the beach?) and then back out to the beach for a mid-morning stroll where the weather was near perfect, I must say. We packed up around 11:30am, stopped at a deli in town for sandwiches and headed up the road through a forested area to Ecola State Park for a picnic and some more ocean viewing from up high. For anyone who might vaguely recognize the name, by the way, Ecola State Park got a lot of publicity a few months ago (Today show, sensational entertainment shows - not that I watch those - etc.) with the parents who released the video of their little girl falling through the fence there while posing for a picture, narrowly missing tumbling down a cliff straight into the ocean. (Her uncle jumped over and caught her.) Ugh. It made my heart stop every one of the million times they played it on TV. They've since improved the safety of the fence at the overlook where it happened, but I have to say we were there last spring before they fixed the fence and it didn't take a brain surgeon to recognize it wasn't safe and to keep little ones far away. But, I digress.

By mid-afternoon Sunday we were back on the road headed towards home, where we oddly enough had to drive back through snow on the ground over the coast range. Sunday night a very tired Ian went to bed early and we watched the inauguration concert on HBO, which gave me an opportunity to start practicing my waterworks for Tuesday. Of course I have to say that it's in part due to the fact that, despite a great weekend here, all this focus on Washington and watching the concert in front of the Lincoln Memorial started making me feel a bit DC-sick. Though, I've decided that in case of any future historic inaugurations where they plan to host millions of people, they should really switch it to the springtime when DC is in all its glory versus now where it's looking quite cold and gray, I must say. Maybe I'll write my congressman with that suggestion.

Oh, and one last thing...speaking of this MLK holiday weekend and the inauguration: Last week Jeff had the great idea that because Ian is a bit too young yet to help volunteer - instead, today we would go to the store, buy some food and take it with him to donate at the Oregon Food Bank in honor of this national day of service. So, earlier this morning the three of us headed out to Fred Meyer, bought a bunch of food and took it to the Food Bank warehouse out in Hillsboro (about 10 miles out from here) only to discover that the site was closed! That was kind of disappointing. They have other drop spots around town but we had hoped to take it to the main location as part of the experience. So, I think we are going to go back again - but still a bit of a bummer for today, nonetheless.

Until I write again.

I might be dying...again

Can I just complain about something for a minute or two? Wait, of course I can - it's my blog!

So, one morning early last spring I was standing at the bottom of the stairs urging Ian to hurry up and come down so we could get in the car and head off to work/daycare when suddenly I started getting this very uncomfortable feeling up and down my left arm and into my hand. It was like someone was squeezing my arm very tightly and wouldn't let go. I literally tried to shake it off but couldn't get rid of it no matter what I did. But, off we went with our day and by mid-morning at work - not only was this weird feeling still there but it was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

I started getting nervous. Left arm pain, radiating down the arm, into the hand, some tingling, felt very cold...what does that mean? What does that mean? At that point I did what any modern, rational person would do: I jumped on Google and start trying to self diagnose. Now, at this point I must say that I did go into a bit of a panic because the only thing I knew about left arm pain is that it can be associated with having a heart attack. Which, normally I would have laughed off given my age and overall state of health - except that I do happen to have just a slight - or okay, more than slight - family history of fatal heart issues at a young age. After spending some time researching symptoms and having coworkers suggest that maybe I should call a doctor - I called Jeff to report that it was entirely possible I could be dying right there on the phone. I don't think this made him feel super comfortable, especially given that at the time, he happened to be on his way to the airport for a business trip. I recall him saying, "Well, do you think I shouldn't go?" But I told him to go ahead - that if I was really dying it would just have to wait until he got back.

That afternoon while still juggling work, Google searches and contemplating whether or not I should call my doctor - I finally decided to take action. I marched into my friend Zach's office and asked if we could call his Dad, who happens to be a doctor in town. I described my symptoms over the phone at which point he said, "I don't think you're having a heart attack Melinda, but it does sound like you might be having a nerve issue." Wonderful! I clearly wasn't dying, which was obviously great news. So I just slept on something wrong and had a pinched nerve. That made sense. Problem solved. Or not.

Sixish weeks later that stupid annoyance was still there...except it had gotten even worse. What started in the arm and hand was now clearly originating from points in my upper back area - under the left shoulder blade, just to be specific here. It was from there that I had an almost constant shooting pain down my arm, also with the numbness and tingling. The only relief seemed to be when I would lay down in bed at night. As soon as morning hit, it would return and oh boy, within mere minutes of sitting down at my desk at work, there was some serious discomfort going on. (Not to spoil the whole point of this story or anything...but much like I'm feeling right this very second!) Early evenings at home would usually involve me laying on the couch moaning and groaning with an ice pack affixed to my back. One day I said, "Gosh, I'm really tired of this - maybe I should give that doctor a call!"

Of course by that point I already knew what the problem was. Which is one of the reasons why I really didn't want to go to the doctor. I was pretty sure that I had a pinched nerve that was resulting from a herniated disc in my spine. According to several credible online sources, the first step in treatment is a round of physical therapy - which apparently usually does the trick in relieving the pain. If not, then other steps may need to occur with surgery as a last resort option. HOWEVER, it clearly stated in several places that your doctor may want to do an MRI as part of the initial diagnosis. Yeah, you know, those machines that are a claustrophobic's worst nightmare? Oh, and have I ever mentioned that I am slightly claustrophobic? I was hyperventilating at the mere thought of being shoved into one of those death traps just so they could tell me I had a herniated disc - which, HELLO - I already knew!!! (And um, so why do people still need to go to medical school when we have Google?) Still, it had become painfully (pun intended) clear that I needed to take some steps toward relief of this little issue. So, I made an appointment.

A couple of weeks later I walked into my doctor's office, still in pain with my newly printed t-shirt that read, "MRIs Are Against My Religion". I wanted to send her a subtle message. Well, I guess it worked because after we talked she said, "It sounds like we should get you in some physical therapy." Shocker!!!! But instead of pondering whether or not I should have been a doctor, I was just relieved that there was no mention of those three little letters.

Anyhooskie, several physical therapy appointments, many prescribed exercises and one job resignation later - my pain had magically disappeared and by the end of June, I was feeling like myself again. What a huge relief. Until...December. Actually, I happen to know that it was around December 11 because our new niece Ellie was born that day and I specifically recall that for some reason I had been feeling particularly tense for a few days that week (sympathetic baby angst??). And, because I hold all my tension in my upper back/neck area, I remember it felt like a rock. Then approximately one week later on a Saturday, it returned. At first it was just one slight shooting pain down the arm. Then another. Then another.

Soon, it was clear. It's baaaaack! With a vengeance, I might add. This time bedtime doesn't even offer a hint of relief. In fact, if I even threaten to flip on my stomach, Whoa Nellie! I should also mention that dealing with constant pain and weakness in the upper left side of my body is also quite fun with a 37 lb. three-year-old who needs to be picked up for various reasons every now and then. So these days I walk around most of the time half hunched over, usually shaking my left arm and hand around in an attempt to get even a second of relief. Does this look slightly strange? Absolutely. But the good news is that this time it only took me about a month before I decided to call the doctor. My appointment is this Friday. Time to dig out the t-shirt again.

Until I write again.