Interlochen Immersion

Summer 2009

                The reed kids were already at their table, making their duck calls and doodle sounds.  The lights were on, the instructors were assigned rooms, and I was assigned a broom and mop.  Blessed, blessed work without stress or fear of being called once more on the carpet for errors or misjudgments.  Mine, someone else’s, it was my mistake.

                I had been here before.  Well, not here; not in Thor Johnson Dorm, but on the campus of Interlochen in general, almost thirty years ago, learning the power of ammonia and Lysol brown cleaner.  Back then it seemed fruitless to talk to anyone but the other housekeepers and maids.  The students or campers were from another world from us-the world of the “haves” and we, well….

                My dream job was ending.  I felt it long before I admitted it, and felt the finality of it as well.  It wasn’t going to be just me, leaving; it would be the entire business closing like a book, The End.  My hours had been cut more than half, so Interlochen was an attempt to fill in the slack.  All summer I fought the inevitable.  I almost missed what was right in front of me. 

                The instructors, men in blue corduroy and joviality, were not what I expected.  I was timid to approach them until the cheese and the snippet of music.  The cheese was on Mike Davison’s door, a subtle hint at college days.  The music was the WYSO piece of the year:  Symphonie Fantastique.  Da! Da! Da didi Da!  Da!  Da!  Da didi Da!  Mike coached his students, emphasizing the punch of each note. Powerful!  Hmm, familiar.  What was it?  I finally asked him.  He told me, and told me the WYSO concert date, and I made plans to attend.  It is a horrifying piece of music, based on depression, hallucination, death and dying.  Mike took ghoulish pleasure in describing the piece of music that was a head rolling down the stairway, how it was written so you could actually hear the head hit each tread.  Brrrr!

                And suddenly, I had peers with amazing students and instructors. Wonderful musicians with wicked senses of humor. Quirky kids who were devoted to their goals, their instrument, their practice time, and even their reed-making.

                What amazed me is that the instructors, top of the line accomplished musicians, practiced as much if not more than the students. They were always coming in early to make funny noises on their mouth pieces or reeds. Working their lips, keeping them.. um.. pliable? Flexible? Strong? They always did scales and arpeggios. Always.  As I swept and mopped my way around these amazing people, I started noticing how much effort they put in every day. It started seeping into me.

                I had band and choir in high school, but I was mediocre at best. I didn’t understand discipline at all. Hardly had any drive to move up in chairs. If I did, it was a happy surprise. I drew and experimented with art, and got pretty good, but didn’t even try for excellent. What made these people different? I wanted to know.

                So, after working within this amazing place for a summer, I started asking questions. I interviewed my friends, the instructors. I asked the reed kids why they worked so hard. I watched, listened, and got saturated in this environment of discipline.

                Then, I went on with my life and tried a direction that was practical, but was not really my passion.  Now after all of these years, I am revisiting the interviews with these men and women, and hoping to find what I experienced while working at Interlochen. I am hoping to find something to share, a treasure to encourage others who have been in my shoes, and to maybe poke into wakefulness the dreams that we started out with as children.

More Inappropriate Songs....yada yada

da da di da di da When the stars align....

Jobs may change but the stream of music in my head never goes away. And, thanks to my daughter, the radio at work, and various friends, the file of music keeps increasing. Oh, my, do they ever.

So, I am working along, minding my own business, watching the clock and paying attention to my duties. My boss, who is more than a little crazy, had to introduce me to this. Now, I am a child of the 70's and 80's, so I am very familiar with this group, AC DC. But, not AC DC doing the  Hokey Pokey.

I lost all ability to do any kind of work for a while. I was laughing so hard. My husband told me I was going "Hokey Pokey" and then snorting in my sleep.

Currently, I do not work where the public can see me much, so I have busted a move. This is seriously challenging at my age. It is just that I have a hard time standing still for long periods of time and need to move around a bit, and fidgeting doesn't quite do it anymore. So, if there is music playing, there will be movement. Of course the music of choice at work is... Country.

Now, I have nothing against country. I was raised up on country music. I have Hank Williams Sr still singing in my mind. I watched Hee Haw, and the Porter Wagoner Show. With that in mind, I have to say country music has done changed. Boy howdie, has it ever. Some of this stuff I am unsure where to categorize. Then they get stuck on a phrase that just isn't right. "Gonna" is one of the songs that drive me bats. "Put a ring rock steady on her hand." Then there is "Rock On" which shares a similar line. There are probably more, but I just can't abide the idea of looking for more of a line that I find totally awful.

There are a couple of songs right now that make me kind of homesick, they are so very country.  Jennifer Nettles has one,  and that fellow Billy Currington. Country music is music with strong roots and a specific kind of sound. The steel guitars may not be as abundant as they were in the day, but the twang and the heart is.

My daughter has taken me to a couple of concerts this year. Aren't I lucky? She is pretty awesome and our tastes tend to run together on some things, like music and art. So, anyway, she took me to see a group named Lacuna Coil. They are named for an insane asylum in Italy. I should have  put the name and the genre "heavy metal" together, but I was caught flat footed by this concert and the other three guest bands!

I enjoyed the heck out of those bands!

Then my boss, again the crazy guy, introduces me to a group called Shinedown. Now, there is some music that one wouldn't generally want to sing when serving the public. "State of My Head" kind of reflects how I felt when changing jobs, but it is even grittier. The metal genre is full of language I pretty much detest-bands use the F word as much as they breathe-but there are some pretty good lyrics and stories within the songs. Just hard  to smile and serve the public when, you know, screaming out the favorites...

The other concert my daughter took me too was Lindsey Stirling. The only reason her music is inappropriate to sing at the workplace is, if you have ever seen her perform, you may be tempted to dance all over creation the way she does and use a violin as a weapon.

Please know, in no way am I against music at the workplace. Just think about the words of the songs if you are working with public. Be careful when moshing if it is outside of a known mosh pit. Play nice. Music is as essential as language and breathing.

Have a nice day!

Silly String and Light Sabers: Remembering Tim

My friend Tim. I will always see his rosy cheeks and his serious face behind which his sense of humor dwells waiting for the right timing and victim. 

It is never easy when a friend passes away. 

The Kirback family accepted me in without any qualms. I met Jon first, then Tim. Eventually, Pam decided I was ok and became my longest friend. Brenda and Lisa will always be little girls to me, even though they are grown up mommies and even grand mommies, if I remember right. Soon, anyway. George and Joyce, Mom and Dad, completed this extended family.

I was a disturbed teen, not sure why really.There were a couple of years where I absolutely flourished. But my head was not in a good place and I had suicidal thoughts. Tim basically got my attention and quite probably saved my life at that point. He shared Kahlil Gibran regarding friendship. I have to say, Tim was a very good friend at that time and forward. The whole family was, and still are.

The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran

But growing up and having your own families and life challenges. It is hard to keep right in touch all the time. I knew Tim had married: Luanna was the other half to their whole selves. They had children. The normal stuff. But, I had no idea that Tim was a clown! Shoots the Clown. Who knew?  I knew George and Joyce did rendezvous, but had not a single idea that Tim did! I didn't know how quickly my friend would be leaving us, and all the sudden, he was gone.

I asked my friends and Tim’s children if I could do a blog in remembrance of him, if I could share about the most amazing funeral I had ever been to, if I could encourage everyone to raise a cup of coffee in Tim’s memory. They said I could. I know this is a difficult thing to read, and I do not intend any harm with this.

More than anything I wanted to share how this captured Tim’s identity, celebrated his life, and that he gave laughter to his friends and family in a time of sorrow.

Tim’s daughter, Alicia wrote this for me:

About a week before my dad had his heart attack he sat me down. I'm unaware if he spoke to anybody else about his final plans and wishes He told me that I had to make a promise to him and that was that if anything happens to him and he was hospitalized, that if the doctor says there is hope, that I would chase it. But when the doctor said that all hope was gone I had to promise to be able to tell them to take him off machines. Very reluctantly I promised. I had no idea that within 2 weeks I have to make that call.

Immediately following that he said, now if anything does happen to me I don't want people to cry at my funeral. He wanted to be remembered for his crazy antics and twisted sense of humor. He then told me who was pallbearers would be:  He says his brother, and his three brothers-in-law, his best friend Tom, and a young man who he had emotionally adapted named Alex. He told me that he wanted them equipped with practical jokes and gags. He told me to find a way to put a prank everywhere I can I get something to make people laugh, or they had to make people shudder in disgust.

I met with Gaylord (Jowett) to talk about the funeral arrangements I then told him of Dad wishes for the funeral to be pretty crazy.  One of Dad's wishes was to be very naked with an elephant head covering his groin. I could not pull myself to bury my father naked. I did give him his clothing for his frontiersmen camping that he so much loved throughout my life, but I did give him the elephant had that he wanted.

 Gaylord was fabulous as helping me to arrange things that were going to be so funny that my dad would have gotten a great laugh out of it. The last thing that my dad said was, I don't want you to do flowers, so I did not. I jokingly said well what about at the ? What are we going to do, silly string? He said that would be great! So when I went to buy my preparations for the funeral, I remembered his wish to not have flowers and purchased 44 cans of silly string to meet the need. I had no idea that I needed more.

I wish I could say that this was a big elaborate plan that Dad had very carefully orchestrated but really and truly, what it was, was my dad saying he wanted people to laugh and he wanted it full of practical jokes and gags.

Honestly I thought he was insane. I look back and I think he did it for me.  When I got to go shopping for all of the crazy things for his funeral and then I got to set it all up and watch people have a good time; it took the pain for that short amount of time. I did not realize what I was going to spend a week and a half laughing and joking and remembering all the crazy things that I did with my dad. It made that week of preparing for the funeral much less painful. Do I think that my dad did that for the rest of the family? I don't know. But I know that he wanted the funeral this way so I can plan his funeral and have fun doing it.

 I only wish that he had given me something to have fun with after he was gone and after the funeral is over but I guess they didn't have time to prepare for that.

The pranks were amazing. Plastic spiders were all over Tim in the casket. The young kids found the “creeping hand” and were running around with it trying to scare people. There were light sabers. There was his Son-in-law, wearing the clown suit. There was a lot of laughter. Tears happened, but laughter prevailed. Even the pastor couldn’t help but remember Tim’s mischief over the years, and shared again with family and friends the epic story of Tim and Lana’s wedding complete with fainting and misconceptions and all.

Funerals are for those of us who remain, to remember those who go on ahead of us. This funeral was a perfect snapshot;

And now, Tim and Lana are back together, forever.

A great celebration of a good friend, loving father and son, and a wicked sense of humor. Even though he tried to avoid us grieving, well, it can't be helped. We are human, after all. 

Top of Form

But still, what a way to be remembered, what a way to go!

Be Careful What You Pray For...

"You really should be careful what you pray for. 
I am no longer employed. Though this is difficult it is not necessarily a bad thing. I am looking forward to the next thing."

This was my most recent post on Facebook. Perhaps I should explain. I had just been dismissed from my job after finishing rooming patients for my doctor. He has a short day on Thursdays. I was working on completing tasks for the day, preparing for the next day, putting out fires.

And then I was being told before the day was half over that I was being dismissed, that I just wasn't getting my work done fast enough. The patients love me, I was told. I know this: I love them back. You are a hard worker, i was told. I know that, too. There have been complaints to the board. 

If I am honest, there was plenty of warning before this day, this moment. My guts even knew something was not working right. I felt separated. 

It still felt like a punch to the gut. 

My Facebook post sounds flippant. I feel nowhere near as chipper and cheerful as I sound. I really did like my job, my boss, my team. But I struggled so much with the speed, the paperwork, prioritizing priorities. I worked hard to improve. Stayed late, came early. Wrestled with it. I just maid it over half a year. I really thought I was starting to get it. I really thought I had to stick it out, and that it would be simpler with time. 

My heart is broken and I am embarrassed by failure.

I do believe I got what I prayed for. I have been praying since day one that I would do my best, that people wouldn't get hurt. I prayed for a way to have my dreams as well as work. I prayed that my live outside work would become balanced, and my life inside my work would too. I prayed for direction.

I received experience, friendship, and encouragement. Things are moving fast. "This feels like things are moving as fast as a house of cards falling apart" I told my husband earlier today. He countered by saying "Or like things are flowing together." 

Now,maybe I can think about what I really want to be when I grow up. I know it has to do with people. And I know I will be good at it.

Phone loops and paperchases

I am a healthcare worker, and I absolutely hate health insurance.

I thought at first that this much talked-about health care reform was actually going to reform the insurance providers, not make the medical providers job more difficult.

I hoped that health-care reform would make things simpler for the consumers, too. Medicare would be easier to understand. Coverage would be better.

That's not how it works.

Within an average day, we medical  assistants prep charts, room patients, assist with minor office surgeries, clean and dress wounds, give shots and vaccinations; any number of tasks that are person to person, and will help the provider (doctor, physician's assistant, nurse practitioner) in evaluating the patient for wellness visits as well as sick visits.

We also send out on behalf of patients for various types of testing, specialist visits, surgical procedures, and even elective procedures.

The medical assistant is the one who fields patient questions, passes on refill requests,  calls patient's with results, and manages keeping supplies on hand including drug samples, vaccinations, wound care items, and gloves. This equals a full day of work. Honest. But it isn't complete yet: A huge chunk of the medical assistant's time is filled with paper chases.

This is what I hate.

A  patient who has been under care for years for a diagnosis that will not change (diabetes, lupus, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) will suddenly be informed by their insurance that a medication that has been helping them manage their illness well is no longer on the formulary.

That sets off a bunch of activity that may include trying to call the insurance and getting stuck in the everlasting loop of doom which, no matter how many times you ask for a representative, they cannot allow you to speak to one now, and tells you here is another bunch of stuff you don't need to hear that might help.

There are forms you can download to fill out and fax to the insurance company or the pharmacy supply company to see if you can get approval for the drug that actually works best for the patient. There must be proof that these other cheaper and kind of similar drugs were tried and did not work for the patient. Sorta like the drug they use. Sorta like this.

People expect this to be an immediate process. Computers are fast, why can't things be resolved fast?

Meanwhile, someone needs a MRI done to clarify a medical issue. Some insurance companies require a prior authorization to be done, and radiology cannot and will not schedule the procedure until the PA is obtained. This is understandable.

The thing is, you practically need to be a physician or at least have an eiditic memory in order to complete the process. Certainly you need to  have the patient's history in front of you when completing these on-line questionnaires. Where is that patient's history? On you EMR, on the computer you are trying to complete the form on.

I am over simplifying these issues, and I am still learning. I will never stop learning.  I tell people that this job, being a medical assistant, is my way of fighting Alzheimer's because there is not end to learning something new. But perhaps with experience, the paperchase will become easier and less of a pain in the hiney.

And pigs may just learn how to fly yet.

Inappropriate Songs to Sing at the Workplace, back again!

If you are like me, you live in a little world where there is theme music to your life. The music sets the pace, the mood, the amount I accomplish in a day, or the amount I do not accomplish depending on the day. There is always music.

My brain radio has been set on shuffle lately, with, unfortunately,songs I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Not just MacArthur Park: There are other Very Horrible songs out there. Honest!

Take this song, for instance. I had years of blissfully not remembering this song only to have it turn up, volume high, one morning on the way to work. Do you remember this? You admit it??? I guess I did like it, when I was about 9 or so years old. But, what creepy lyrics!

Of course, the internet doesn't help much at all. I found this gem a few years ago; love it. I still  love Tom Jones.  You have to admit that this is way better than his cover of Prince's song "Kiss"! (ooo scary!)

While looking up songs to include in this post, I actually found some songs that would be totally appropriate to sing at my workplace, which happens to be a medical practice. Like this one and this one.  Very helpful, these medical training songs!

Where would we be without music?

Let me leave you with a very appropriate song to enjoy life to. Watch this video, just see if you don't feel something good from it. Something joyful.

Pulmonary Function Test: Breathe!

This has been the year for new medical experiences for me. I am glad to say, nothing has been seriously amiss. I am sorry to say, oh boy do I have the bills now!

I developed a sinus infection this past winter that morphed into bronchitis and then into walking pneumonia. The cough has been with me every since, sometimes as a little dry cough, sometimes as a phlegm producing nasty choking oh my goodness I am gonna die coughing spell. It really got on my nerves! Sleeping was pretty difficult. I would get up and have to eat cough drops to get the spells to stop. I finally went to the doctor about the cough just a few weeks ago. Doc had his medical assistant do a peak flow test with me. Another chest x-ray later, I am scheduled for a pulmonary function test (PFT).

A Peak Flow test  or spirometry is done to determine how strong a person breathes out. It is used to help manage asthma, and to evaluate lung function with patients who have emphysema or chronic bronchitis. A person breathes out forcibly into a device that measures the force of the exhalation. I hit 320, then 300, then 298. Doc said that was pretty bad. He hits 700 when he does this test. I pointed out that he was athletic and fit, and I am not. Non the less, he had me go for the PFT  to do further evaluation on how I was breathing.

So, I went. The technician took me into a room with a transparent booth. I immediately felt like I was on the set for Get Smart.

Before a person takes the pulmonary function test, they are supposed to stop inhalers and certain medications (Spiriva, 24 hours before, and inhalers, Flovent, Symbicort, Asmanex, Pulmicort, Advair,  4 hours before) so the test provides accurate results. A regular small meal can be eaten before the test. Caffeine, smoking, and vigorous exercise are to be avoided before the test.

This was my tech. I regret that I don't recall her name. She was very helpful and nice!

I was shown the mouth piece that I would be using and given a nose plug. The mouth piece was similar to a snorkel used for swimming but it also had a device to keep the tongue down and out of the way during the test. That was uncomfortable but not bad. The technician explained how I was to breathe and that she would be repeating the instructions to me during the test so I didn't have to worry about remembering all of it. That is a good thing. My memory is full.

At first the booth was left open for the testing. There was a lot of "breathe, breathe, breathe, DEEP breath, hold, BREATH OUT keep going keep going keep going keep going...good... breathe, breathe, breathe.  Then the test got serious. The booth was closed and I had to do more of the same, but then the tech instructed me to pant but that the device would be closed so I would feel like I was panting against a wall! That was scary and I kept messing up because I COULDN'T BREATHE! The tech worked with me to help me relax and finally, I was able to do this part correctly.

I was then given a different device that had a mouth piece and an inhaler of albuterol was squirted in. I took three puffs of albuterol, and then did this same test again to measure the improvement given by this bronchodilator.

If a person has asthma or COPD or any kind of severe breathing problems, this test is really valuable in evaluating lung strength and effect of treatment. It is  hard to imagine doing this test if a person has severe issues. It was hard enough for me, with a little breathing problem!

It was a good experience all in all, and both the xray and PFT came back good. Some things just take time to pass. Getting older means some things take MORE time to pass. Sigh.

On to the next thing.