A Tough Day at Work

      Yesterday was a pretty tough day at work.  The first woman I care for weighs over four hundred pounds.  The day before she had wet the bed. I thought I was doing her a favor by changing the thin soaked sheet and washing the dark blue mattress pad with perfumed cleaner to eliminate the odor.  
       While she was sitting on the toilet naked with massive amount of scarred flesh spilling over the toilet seat and her long, stringy, reddish graying hair parted in the middle wisping her sagging breasts,  she informed me in a  deep brogue "Next time my sheets are wet just leave them on the bed to dry. I don't have enough sheets to be changing them all the time"
"Really?  Aren't you concerned about the smell?"
"No, it drys."
I wanted to argue with her.  Her apartment does smell.  The urine stench smells stronger than lemon scented ammonia. I'm grateful for a warm day when I can open the window to air out the room.  As I was holding a small plastic bag for her to dump her soiled undergarment into, I clenched my jaw and replied "I never heard of not changing sheets when they were wet." I didn't wait for  a reply as I tied the bag tightly to keep the stench in and deposited it in the garbage can.
She lifted herself off the toilet teetering on the rails of the extra large commode.  Her thin arms, mottled with black and blue blood spots looked as if they were thin toothpicks that might snap any moment holding up a quarter ton of weight. I could feel the pain of her knees as she winced taking three steps to the bathtub and situating her immense behind on the plastic tub seat that barely supports her. She was able to lift her left foot into the two foot high tub and I heaved her right foot over the edge so she could get her daily shower.  
I welcomed the smell of the Head and Shoulders shampoo and the  pear scented body soap as I washed her hair and scrubbed her back.  When I was first contemplating caring for the elderly, I knew  dealing with unpleasant odors would be my biggest obstacle. A friend who is an LPN suggested I carry a small jar of Vicks Vapor Rub in my pocket and put a dab in my nostrils whenever there was a strong odor.  More importantly, she instructed  "Make sure you help the patient maintain their dignity while you are caring for them." I found the latter advice much more useful as I don't remember to carry Vicks with me.      After the shower she teetered back to the toilet seat covered with a towel and doused herself in camphor scented medicated body powder, leaving us both in a much better mood.  
My next visit was to see a ninety one year old gentleman who I've become quite fond of.  His three teenage grandchildren are home during the summer. The family is getting ready to leave for a vacation to the Virginia Beach at the end of the week.  My patient  will be spending the week at an assisted care facility a while the family is on vacation.  I visit my patient on Mondays and Wednesdays.  On Monday's visit when I asked him how he was feeling he told me in a rather melancholy voice "So So."  He was a little sluggish, which I contributed to a busy weekend, but when he was still feeling that way on Wednesday I was concerned.  He told me that he was trying not to let his family know how bad he was feeling as he didn't want to ruin their vacation.   I could tell he wasn't feeling good as he gasped for air and coughed as he talked.  His right food swelled to the size of a softball.  Rather than focus on cleaning the house, I spent quite a bit of time visiting with Ernie.  A Reader's Digest was lying on the end table so I picked it up and paged through it  finding a few quotes to read out loud and then we did the Word Power together.  After a lunch of pepperoni bread, salad and watermelon he hobbled back to his recliner to rest.  I cleaned up the kitchen and clocked out.  "Before you leave, I want to give you a hug, in case I don't see you again.  I thought I was going to live to be one hundred, but I'm not going to make it."   
Feeling tears well up in my eyes and not knowing if this might be the last time I see my friend, sing song words spilled out of my mouth. After the first verse he sang along.
" So long, it's been good to know you;
So long, it's been good to know you
So long, it's been good to know you.
This dusty old dust is a-gettin' my           home,
And I got to be driftin' along."
After the song, with his finger on the button to raise his lift chair he said "What would we do without music?"  As he came to a sitting position,  I bent over and he wrapped his strong arms around me and gave me a larger than life bear hug.  I kissed him on the cheek and told him he would be safe wherever he went.  
"Take care" I said as I closed the back door of the house.

Windmills at Kinderdijk

Jack arrived at our B&B the same time Saturday morning and we headed south to Ablasserdam, the town where my Oma and father lived before immigrating to America. Jack went into a furniture store to ask a gentleman he had met on his last visit where the county courthouse was so we could look up records of our ancestors.  Unfortunately, it was Saturday and the courthouse was closed.  In lieu of finding where our family might have lived, we walked the narrow brick paved sidewalks searching for salty black licorice.  While looking for the licorice we came across a bakery and purchased some freshly baked speculaas cookies. The Sweetie Shop, a little candy shop a few blocks away had an assortment of at least twenty different licorices.  The young lady didn’t speak English and didn’t understand that we wanted salty licorice. In sign language, by putting our fingers to our lips we asked if for a taste of the different licorices including a black diamond shaped licorice imprinted with the letters ZOUT, meaning salt in Dutch. It was just the licorice I was looking for, so I purchased a pound, hoping it would last me for a while after I returned home.

Kinderdijk (pronounced kinderdyke) was next on the itinerary.  The famous Dutch windmills were only a few miles away from Albasserdam. We arrived in time for a movie about why the windmills were built and the origin of the name Kinderdijk, which there are about four different stories. The one I liked revolved around the St. Elizabeth flood in 1400. A child was floating on one of the canals during the flood and a cat rocked the cradle back and forth to keep in from sinking. In a small museum, Cliff discovered four authentic wood spades with metal edges hanging on the wall.  He’s been researching how to make the same shovels for a customer who wants them for reenactments, but had never seen one first hand.

As we enjoyed a picnic lunch of liverwurst and hot mustard sandwiches on whole grain bread and apples, Jack and I talked about how different our lives might have been if our father hadn’t passed away when we were young.  I wondered if my Dutch Oma might have brought my father to Kinderdijk as a child to see the windmills, since it is so close to where they lived.  I thought about how pleased our ancestors were been that we made the journey back to our motherland.  I felt honored to have a rich cultural heritage.  My heart was full of gratitude for all the people that preserved this part of history for us to experience, share and enjoy.

The windmills were built in the 1700’s to pump water into the canals to keep the land from collapsing and going undersea. One of the windmills where the miller and his family actually lived was open to the public. We climbed narrow wood steps to view areas for the children. As we strolled the pathway with people on bikes, families with children and the three story windmill equipped with a kitchen, sitting room, bedroom and play tourists groups, Cliff and Jack counted nineteen windmills along the canals. People from all over the world visit Kinderdijk to see how the Dutch ingeniously manage water.

Arriving in Holland

  We landed safely in Holland around 1:00 pm on Thursday April 3, 2014. Our flights went smoothly with only a half hour delay added to our four hour layover at the Dublin airport due to heavy fog. We passed the time by having an Irish breakfast, coffee, Irish crème whisky samples, tasting chocolates and chatting with a couple from Ireland on their way to Italy and Spain. We turned our watches ahead five hours, exchanged our dollars in for euros and went through customs where our suntan lotion was confiscated.

   At the immense Schiphol airport we were welcomed with displays of tulips and delftware that lines the shelves of airport shops.  After claiming our luggage, we found our way to the Avis car rental kiosk to pick up a car I had reserved earlier.  A young man in his thirties who spoke English with a strong Dutch accent handed me the keys to a small plum colored mini car. Cliff piled the luggage in the small trunk.  After getting in the car, the first thing I looked for was the GPS, but it was nowhere to be found. I went back to the desk to ask where the GPS was in the car. They forgot to give it me. I had to make a second trip back to the Avis office to have the gadget changed from European to English. I programmed the address of the Bed and Breakfast in DeZilk, Holland and was ready to go until I turned on the car reached down to put the car in drive and discovered that it was a standard.  I hadn’t driven a standard car in over ten years, but after a few stalls and jumps, engaging the clutch and shifting the gears came back to me. Just like riding a bike, you never forget.

Due to studying the road map before leaving for our trip I had an idea in what direction we were traveling, but it was nerve wracking  driving on a four lane highway with foreign traffic signs, a standard car and the driving speed in kilometers an hour.  My brain had a hard time adjusting to a 100 kph instead of 60 mph.  I relied on the flow of traffic to gauge my speed and muddled through the road signs. The biggest challenge came when the women’s voice on the GPS said “at the next round about turn left and take the second exit.”  In a matter of minutes I came to an island of grass with two lanes of traffic encircling it. The exits were unmarked narrow roads, like spokes on a wheel, so I had to count “one, two, three” as I navigated around the round-about. There is a ‘round-about’ wherever a road intersects.

The GPS navigated us to the Tulpenzicht Bed and Breakfast, where we met our host who speaks German and a little English.  We were delighted to see that the B&B with contemporary furniture, laminate flooring, colorful Dutch wall hangings and a modern kitchen with an induction stove and oven depicted the pictures on the website.  My brother Jack, who is familiar with Holland forewarned me about the high price of meals in the country and he was right.  One simple meal of cod, french fries and small salad at a conservative restaurant cost 46 Eruos. I sure was glad to have the kitchen included in the B&B.

After unloading our luggage at the B&B we headed to the nearby town of Lisse to stock up on a few groceries.  We found a market, strictly by accident, with a nice selection of food. I headed to the produce aisle leaving Cliff alone to get the cart. When I turned to ask him what kind of cheese we should buy he was struggling to free a cart from the rack.  He was confused as to why he had to insert a fifty cent euro to free a shopping cart until he realized it was a deposit that eliminated having to hire people to return the carts to the store. We stocked up on cheese, lunch meat, herring, and black licorice. When we checked out Cliff asked what he could put the groceries in. The cashier told him something in Dutch, but he couldn’t understand her.  I looked down and seen heavy plastic bags for twenty euro cents. After thirty hours without sleep and a crash course in European driving and shopping, we were both ready for a good night’s sleep.

On Friday after a hearty breakfast of whole grain bread, croissants, fruit, yogurt, granola, fresh squeezed orange juice, soft boiled eggs, lunch meat and cheese, Cliff made sandwiches from the leftovers for our lunch. Jack arrived at 10:00 am and had coffee while we chatted for a few minutes. We tasted the black licorice and were disappointed that it wasn’t salty.  Jack read the label and told me it was German licorice.  After a cup of coffee we hit the road. Jack sat in the front seat of the rental car and gave me European driver lessons while en route to a Clara Maria’s cheese and wooden shoe making factory.  Cliff enjoyed seeing how wood shoes are made and found a hand tool and spoon gouges that that he doesn’t have.  We sampled wild onion, mustard, whiskey, cumin and nut cheese, stocked up on souvenirs and then had lunch at a picnic table next to the house. 

Next we traveled north through the town of Gouda (that the Dutch pronounce howda) and then to the only Delft potter factory in Holland. We arrived at 4:30 pm just as the shop was closing. The owners were gracious enough to give us a quick tour of the small factory housed in a three story brick building.  It was fascinating to learn about the tedious process of making expensive Delft pottery. The Dutch women who explained the process to us, has a daughter who is in college and will be attending Penn State University for a semester. We invited her daughter to visit us when she is in Pennsylvania.

 When we returned to the B&B in the evening I made tortellini, sautéed Italian vegetables and German beef sausage. It was a challenge getting the induction oven to work until we realized that the heating elements wouldn’t turn on with certain pans. I was grateful that my friend Mary Lisa gave me an adaptor for my computer and hair dryer. After checking my email we went for a leisurely walk in the area and enjoyed the sunset, beautifully landscaped homes and fields of fragrant purple hyacinths, yellow daffodils and pink tulips.

Renewed Passports

Our trip to Holland is just over a week away, with our flight scheduled to leave on April 2 from the Buffalo International Airport.  I thought all our ducks were in a row,  until Cliff received a phone call on Monday morning from our friend Brent who is a pilot for Jet Blue/Aer Lingus, the airlines I booked our flight with.  “Hey Cliff, you might want to check on your passports for your trip to Holland.  The other day a guy was scheduled to fly to the Dominican and couldn’t enter the country because his passport was too close to expiring. Call the airline to make sure your passports are valid.”

     Brent’s wife Pam stopped by on Saturday to buy a couple dozen eggs and I was telling her about our trip.  I mentioned that our passports expired on May 25^th, 2014 so we were under the wire. Pam told Brent about our trip.  When I came home from work on Monday I checked on the internet and read that there are ten that countries require a six month validity for passports.  Holland wasn’t one of them.  I thought we were off the hook, but I called the airport just to verify things. The woman didn’t know for sure so told me to call the US Consulate.  The US Consulate didn’t know so I called the JFK airport.  The woman there told me that the passport would be fine.  I told her about the ten countries that required a six month passport validity and she said I had better check with the Netherlands Embassy.  I found their phone number on the computer and learned that Holland has a three month passport validity and that we wouldn’t be allowed to enter the country and would have to return home without the correct passport.     When Cliff got home from work I explained our dilemma. It would take six to eight weeks to get the passport renewed at the post office and at least three weeks to get it renewed online   I searched for ways to expedite getting our passports renewed.  One of the services had a 600.00 fee plus the cost of the expedited passport from the U.S. Passport service. There are twenty six passport offices in the U.S. and one was in Philadelphia.  We considered what it would cost in gas, food and time and decided to pay the extra money to have it done online.  The only glitch was that it would take five to seven business days, which would be cutting it really close.     Both Cliff and I were feeling really grateful that Brent had told us about the passports. It would have been terrible to get to land at our stopover in Ireland and have to return home.  If we didn’t get the passports back in time we could reschedule our flight for later in the month.  When Cliff called Brent to thank him, he told us that he was making breakfast and cracking the eggs from our farm when he thought about us and it was on his heart to call.  His wife Pam didn’t want to alarm us if it didn’t apply to us, but he said God was telling him to call us so he did.  He also told us that we could go to Buffalo Passport Office and get the passports renewed in one day.  Buffalo is only two hours compared to the five hour drive to Philadelphia, so we decided to go that route.
I was able to schedule an automated appointment for Wednesday at 11:30 a.m. We would have the passports within five days.  The proper forms needed to be filled out, which I was able to access online. For our passport pictures Cliff went to CVS in Johnsonburg and I went to the post office in Ridgway.     We left this morning at 8:30 am to make the trip to Buffalo.  We have a GPS our kids gave us for Christmas a few years ago, but I wrote down the directions to the Buffalo Passport Agency just in case.  I’m glad I did because we got as far as Wilcox and the GPS quit working.  Cliff got out the trusty atlas and mapped out the route to Buffalo.  I drove up and when we crossed the Pennsylvania border into New York, Cliff reminded me to watch my lead foot.  I’m glad he did because we passed at least five police officers.  The New York roads are full of potholes that slowed us down.  It took a little over two hours to get downtown Buffalo.  We found a place to park the car and walked a few blocks to the Passport Agency. On the way I spotted a sky scraper with painted black and white block letters reading FIRST EDITION BOOKS.  I thought it would be nice to go to a book store if we had time.We found 111 Genesee St. and went through the glass doors to the Passport Agency. Our personal belongings had to be x-rayed and we had to go through a TBS (total body scan). Cliff had his pocket knife and was told he had to take it back out to the car. “Our car is three blocks away and the wind chill factor must be below zero.” I said.Cliff told the officer “I’ve been carrying a pocket knife since I’ve been seven years old.”  The officer kindly held the pocket knife until we left.     The lady scheduling the appointment didn’t have a record of our 11:30 appointment but let us submit our papers anyway.  After everything was processed we were told we could pick up the passports between three and four in the afternoon.  That gave us time to have a nice lunch at the Washington Street Market Deli and find the bookstore I had spotted earlier.  The two story bookstore was chock full of books neatly arranged, library style on shelves.  We looked around a couple of hours and found a few good reads.  We walked down to pick up the car from the parking garage and drove up to the Passport Agency.  Cliff left his pocket knife in the car, which made the security officers happy.  After waiting about a half hour to get the passports we were on our way home with our new passports in hand.
        

A Torn Meniscus

It’s been a long winter this year.  We haven’t had any significant accumulations of snow, but the ground has been covered since November.  About a month ago six inches of wet heavy snow fell overnight.  I headed out to work and made my way up a flight of twenty steps to the house of a woman I care for.    Before it was time for me to leave her house a snowplow had plowed a huge pile of snow at the bottom of the steps.  As I was forging my way to the car I stepped into a snowbank that was up to my knees. And fell. As my right knee twisted the pain was excruciating.  I pulled myself up and was happy that I could stand on my leg, albeit a little painful. While getting out of the car to my next patient's house the knee was still sore getting in out of the car so I made an appointment with the orthopedic doctor’s satellite office in Ridgway.

After a few x-rays the nurse practitioner said I have degenerative arthritis in both of my knees and what looked like a chipped bone.  She gave me a prescription for crutches and ordered me to stay off my feet for at least a week until a CT scan, that the doctor’s office would schedule. I was hoping for something less drastic like a torn meniscus or ligament.

When I returned home I researched treatment for a chipped bone and the outlook wasn’t rosy.  I could end up in a cast and be off my feet for six to eight weeks, putting a dent in my trip to Holland.  I wasn’t relishing the idea of hobbling around airports and touring Holland otou on crutches.  If the bone was chipped I would probably have to delay the trip a few weeks and give up seeing my brother Jack while there.

Four days went by and I hadn’t heard from the doctor’s office about the CT scan.  When I called the office they told me I would have to call back tomorrow.  I called the main office in St. Marys and asked what was taking so long and that would prefer an MRI to determine if I might have a torn meniscus, which might not show up on a CT scan.  The nurse practitioner apologized for the delay and  agreed to the MRI which was scheduled for the next day. 

In the meantime my knee was feeling better each day.  I made sure to elevate it, took Epsom salt baths and applied DSMO to relieve the arthritis pain.  I read WILD by Cheryl Strayed and Girl with the Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier. The latter being a novel about Vermeer’s art in Holland during the 1600’s.  I did my best to stay positive about the trip and used the time to shop online for a set of a new luggage, clothing and even a new striped umbrella in case of rain.

When I went to my next doctor appointment the good news was that the bone wasn’t chipped, but the meniscus was tore. The nurse practitioner referred me to the orthopedic doctor to determine if arthroscopic surgery would be needed. I wasn’t as unglued about the surgery as it could be delayed and the healing time wasn’t nearly as long. I was more than happy when the doctor told me I had a serious, but clean meniscus tear, and that surgery wouldn't be necessary. 

     As of now it looks like clear sailing to Holland.  Justin and Caleb will be feeding and watering the animals in the morning and on the weekend. Our neighbor Mary Hosmer and her brother Mike offered to feed and water the critters in the afternoon. Cliff quit milking the goats this week as they are now about three months pregnant and are scheduled to freshen in early May.  Tasha and Tucker will be spending the week with our neighbors, Paul and Shirley Oldland and their pack of black labs.  I’m sure they will get more than enough exercise and attention.

     I’ve been doing some exercises to strengthen my leg muscles and have been out cross country skiing a few times. Today  the dogs and I went for a long walk and my knee is feeling pretty good.  In less than a month I should be tip toeing through the tulips. 

Planning our trip to Holland

On April 3-8 2014, fifty years later my dream of traveling to Holland, a country the size of Maryland and a population of 16 million people will be realized. I purchased airline tickets from cheaptickets.com.  We will be flying out of the Buffalo Airport, with a stop over the JFK airport and then on to Dublin, Ireland with a four hour layover.  We are scheduled to land at the Schiphol airport in Amerstdam 12:30 a.m. on April 4, 2014.  
I reserved a room not far from the North Sea at the Tulpenzicht Bed and Breakfast, in DeZilk, Holland. It's equipped with a kitchen in case we want to prepare some of our own meals.  The world famous Keukenhof Gardens are nearby. 

My brother Jack will be traveling to Holland from Weisbaden, Germany on April 5 & 6.  We plan on visiting the town of Alblasserdam where my ancestors are from. On Saturday we will be spending a day at Keukenhof together. Along with seeing the array of colorful tulips we are looking forward to riding bikes along the canals lined with windmills, visiting the town of Gouda to taste the cheese and finding the pickled herring kiosks that I hear are scattered about Amersterdam.

Last Thursday, my friend Mary Lisa who is a traveler stopped by for lunch before she left for a month long trip to Instanbul and gave me The UnDutchables, a comical, useful book about Holland.  I ordered  Lonely Planet Netherland's Travel Guide from Amazon.com.  In the book I found the location of Anne Frank's Attic in Amsterdam and a Delft museum where I can paint own piece of Delftware to add to my collection.
 I hope we have enough time to do everything on my growing list!  

A Dream Come True

I've been dreaming of going to Holland ever since I was seven years old and my mom went on a vacation to Holland, Michigan. She  brought back Dutch Cocoa in a tin with Dutch Girl on the front and  a Dutch dress, apron and hat for me to wear as a Halloween costume. Singing "I'm a little Dutch girl dressed in blue" I clomped around the hardwood floor of the auditorium wearing the costume and  my older sister's authentic wooden shoes from the country Holland. I was elated when the judges presented me with a blue ribbon for first prize in my age group.  

Over the years I've read about Holland, collected the infamous Delft porcelain, indulged in pickled herring from the time I was a child, savored black salty licorice and envied everyone that has been to Holland. I belong to a Holland Facebook page and enjoy sharing posts of the scenic country.  

When I tell people about my dream of going to Holland they generally ask
"Why Holland?"  

 "My father and his family immigrated to America from Holland in 1920 when he was nine years old. I've always longed to see my homeland." I reply.

I only knew my father, my Dutch Oma and my Aunt Gerty who smelled of camphor for the first three years of my life. Their presence  left a deep impression on me.  My father passed away in November 1960. In April 1961  my mother, six siblings and myself boarded a train to an orphanage at Mooseheart, Illinios. I only saw my Oma and Aunt Gerty once or twice after that. Although my mother wasn't Dutch she kept our Dutch Heritage alive not only by bringing us souvenirs from Holland, Michigan but by keeping my older brother and sister's wooden shoes and much to the dismay of the matrons, serving us pickled herring and Mogan David wine when we visited her on Sundays. 

The only thing that has kept me from going to Holland is the cost. Three years ago I knew my dream would come true when I was caring for an elderly man and his wife. The husband was of Norwegian descent and each year they traveled to Europe.  When I told the wife that my father was an immigrant of Holland she gave me 2 euros from the Netherlands as a keepsake.  I brought the coin home and tucked it away in a little blue pouch that I keep treasured items in and began praying each day that my dream would be realized.

Last year Cliff and I finally had enough money in the bank to make the trip. At times I can talk myself out of things hundred times before they happen.
Over breakfast one morning I attempted to talk myself and him out of taking the journey. 
 "What if we need the money for a new vehicle?"  I asked Cliff.
"That will take care of itself when the time comes." he answered.
Coming up with another roadblock, I told him maybe it was just too long of a flight.  "Remember how long the flight was to Vietnam?  I don't think I can sit still for that long."
After checking the flight length I learned it was only six hours. Surely we can do that I thought.

Throughout the month of December Cliff brought me home trinkets from Holland he found at antique stores. It seemed like the twelve days of Christmas with him giving me a copper tea kettle with a delft handle, two delft teacups and a delft salt and pepper shaker.  At a dinner in December I won a gift basket of smoked Gouda cheese and a bottle of chocolate red wine made in Holland. For Christmas he gave me a beautiful pendant with a ceramic windmill he hand cut from a tile he discovered at an antique shop, along with earrings to match.

As I opened the gift box he said "Jeanette, going to Holland is something that would make me feel like I made your dream come true." I knew then and there that we would definitely be traveling to Holland in 2014.