My Week With Dave: Part Three the last

David's condition improved over the weekend. He was even able to go to the grocery store with me and the next day try to drive. His neck was still a little stiff while turning but he was confident about his ability to drive himself to his appointment. It was better for him to go by himself anyway because if the doctor gave him clearance to return to work he would go straight from there.

His appointment was at 9 AM and at about noon I sent him a text asking him to call or text me with any news. Time ticked on and I started to get worried. What if he had been in an accident because he wasn't healed and couldn't react quickly to avoid driving off a bridge into the lake? I wondered if the doctor had sent him somewhere else for x-rays or if he was still waiting to be seen. Finally at 2 PM I called him. He was at work.

I swallowed my anger at him not calling to at least give me a, "Hey, I am alive. The doctor said I can go back to work. I'll see you when I get home and tell you all about it." That's all I wanted. I didn't need a long story. I wouldn't have asked five million questions.

The doctor prescribed over the counter pain relievers and told him to be diligent about doing back exercises. David has been dealing with chronic back pain for years so all he can do is try to strengthen his back to prevent further injury. No matter what he does he will always be at risk for injuring himself again. Then we manage the pain the best we can. David's injuries aren't because he doesn't use proper lifting techniques in his warehouse or shouldn't be lifting anything at all. He has a bad back just like some people have bad knees or bad eyesight. To suggest anything else is absurd.

Life has returned to normal at our house. David is relieved to be mobile and back at work. I'm relieved that he's relieved. He's back to his old self which means not calling me to relay important information and assuming I don't need the car so it's okay to take it into the shop for brake work with no clear time frame when it will be returned, leaving me with no way to get myself to the one hair appointment I have scheduled in six months. The hair appointment I scheduled four feet away from him within hearing distance and then wrote on the calendar for the whole world to see: HAIR APPT 10 AM W/FAITH. The whole entire point of my learning to drive was so David wouldn't have to be my taxi. Well, guess who gets to go to work for two hours tomorrow, come home, pick me up, drop me off at my appointment, go back to work and then drive me home when I am finished? And I was really looking forward to being a big girl and driving myself to the salon. Never thought I'd see the day when I didn't want to be driven around by someone else.

My Week With Dave: Part Two

While we waited out the pain I did what David would call "fussing over him." Leaving him alone for an hour or so, going about my day, and then checking on him. I would force him to eat or get him a book. David hates to be "fussed over" but the only reason I was doing it was to try and train him to ask for help. I wasn't bothering him because I'm an overbearing and bored bitch. I was doing it because way out here 2,000 miles away from our families all we really have is each other. We have plenty of kind friends that helped us through the week. I tip my hat to them for all they did. But in situations like this hour by hour David has only me.

One thing I had to do was drive to David's work, pick up his assistant manager, bring him to the house and give him the van to use while David was on the injured list. David's assistant manager only has one car, which he shares with his wife, so it was a lot easier to loan him the van I can't drive to ensure there would be someone to hold down David's work fort. While I was gone David managed to crawl to kitchen for a beer, eat some pumpkin pie, watch NFL analysis and then make his way back to bed after exhausting himself. One would think that this shows improvement but I didn't see real improvement until days later.

Slowly, David regained mobility. He was moving faster, the pain shifted from his back to ribs. He even managed to go outside and walk, upright, to the end of the driveway. I took all of these as good signs. He was still in pain but I could see improvement even if he didn't feel 100% better. I kept telling him, "This is a process. You aren't going to be completely better right away. This is the worst I have ever seen you hurt your back and that includes the time you hurt yourself watching the NFL Draft. But you are getting better trust me when I say that. Just be patient."

David caught up on his reading during this respite. I saw that he was having difficulty holding books so I offered to read to him. David is fond of the most boring, esoteric works of non-fiction I have ever seen. I read aloud to him from History of the Persian Empire by A.T. Olmstead. Which Mr. Olmstead would have been better off calling: The Complete & Mothereffin' Unabridged History of PERSIA; It's Surroundings and Starring all Your Favorite Greeks, Barbarians, Mercenaries, Egyptians and Satraps with Unpronounceable Names
Does not include a pronunciation guide so if you aren't versed in the dead languages just give up. Buy a magazine and a can of Four Loko to help you forget about the failure of your pathetic public school education.

One of David's pet peeves is "people who stumble over words while reading aloud" so I understand why he declined the first few times when I asked to read aloud. Anyone would have trouble with names like Sopd, Artaxerxes, Xerxes, Tiribazus and Evagoras. I was so lazy I started to call Evagoras "Eva Longoria", Artaxerxes "Bob" and Xerxes "Bob's Dad". Whenever I came across a word I could pronounce I would get really excited. Maybe I wasn't so dumb after all! But then there would just be another name I couldn't say ready to strike me down. That's why I like the books I read, the fluffy chick-lit and quick memoirs. If you come across a word you don't know all you have to do is pick up a Barney's catalog. Words like "Blahnik","Louboutin" and "Hermes" are so much easier to understand when you can just substitute the word "shoe" or "scarf".

My Week With Dave: Part One

Last week I mentioned David spent the week at home, instead of at work, with a bad back. Here is an account of the first part of our week.

On Tuesday night David hobbled into the house bent over like a 99 year old man. He had injured his back at work by bending wrong. David went to his chiropractor, a very nice man who helps David keep his back healthy, but could do little to help with the pain and immobility. During this time we would learn that I was unprepared to help David as he was unused to asking me for help.

Throughout the night David's condition worsened. He couldn't sit and needed to lean on me to take mincing steps; even lying flat on his back was painful. I told him over and over again, "Do not hesitate to ask for help. Even if you are waking me up. It's just you and me and we are going to have to figure this out." David slept little and in turn so did I. Whenever David needed to change positions I had to move him. Moving a person who has at least 50 pounds more mass than me was challenging. I was forced to think back about seven years when I had a short stint in a hospital as a Radiology Clerk. My position was purely clerical but the techs showed me how to move a patient just in case there was ever an emergency and I was the only person around to help. Thankfully, I never had to assist the techs. To move David I used my weight against his and since he wasn't unconscious I told him to relax his body to make it easier. It would have been much easier if I hadn't spent the last six months losing 20 pounds. That was less weight I had to my advantage.

The next morning I walked to the drugstore to buy whatever they had that promised back relief, and a heating pad. David's van was blocking my car in the driveway or I would have driven. When I got home I saw that the neighbor had left so her driveway was open for an easier vehicle switch. It was absolutely necessary for me to get my car out because I can't drive the van. I grabbed David's keys, took a deep breath and started to mutter, "I can do this. I can do this. All I have to do is pull the van into the neighbor's driveway. Then back my car all the way to the end of my driveway and then pull the van into the spot the car occupied. I have to do this. There is no one to help me. This is a crisis situation and you have to do this." At some point I lapsed into third person while talking to myself. If only there had been a third person to move the cars.

Pulling the van into the neighbor's spot and backing my car up was easy. I felt confident. I hopped back into the van and within seconds was frantically searching for help. No matter what I did the van crookedly straddled our driveway and the neighbor's. I figured maybe I would just leave it haphazardly parked and apologize to our neighbors with cookies and beer. At one point I saw the son of one of the other neighbors get home and I almost launched myself from the driver's seat to beg him to move the van for me. He would also be handsomely rewarded with cookies and beer. But I forged ahead. The only way I was able to coax the van into a slanted but completely out of the neighbor's way was to get out of the van, walk around it, note the position of the tires and get back in and keep inching it towards home. It was a nightmare moving that van less than 6 feet. I hope there is never an emergency that requires me to really drive the van.

David made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor but the soonest they could see him was in a week. We had a feeling David would be close to healed by the appointment time but there were few other options. We could find another doctor or we could go the ER. I was against taking David to an ER. I was afraid that we would get there and they would tell us what we already knew. David's back muscles were inflamed and spasmodic, it wasn't a nerve or spine issue. There was no need for x-rays. So just take it easy, apply heat and cold, take ibuprofen and when you feel better do back exercises. The only thing a doctor could give us that we didn't already have was a muscle relaxer and what if they didn't give him pain medication? If I dragged an injured David to an ER and no pain meds weren't prescribed I would have torn the place apart. So we waited out the pain.

And Now for Something Completely Different

David has been placed on the inactive list after hurting his back so badly he could barely move. So I've been playing nurse and physical therapist which doesn't leave much time to sit around being all narcissistic and what-not. I'll write a more complete account of my week with David later. For now enjoy a blog (okay a link for you to click) from my informal editor, Tom. He's the best editor in the world because I never see him. We just trade insults and insight via chat.

Tom's blog about nerdy stuff.

Enjoy! And stay tuned next week for your regularly scheduled blog.

Tales of the Domestically Challenged: Recipes from the backs of cans

Like any intelligent, bored and half-ass housewife I get my recipes from the backs of soup cans, pasta boxes and cereal boxes. Basically anything with packaging probably has a recipe on it that I can muddle through. Also, I understand the importance of marketing to these companies so I assume that their recipes are tested and 100% guaranteed to work because if they don't you will never again buy their product.

Yesterday, I prepared "Red Beans & Rice" as instructed by the good people at Bush Brothers & Company. You know the people who brought us the nonsensical but memorable commercial with the talking dog that said, "Roll that beautiful bean footage." The recipe was easy. It involved chopping a few vegetables, sauteing them, adding the meat and beans then letting the whole thing simmer until done.

My first problem was the ingredient list it had "2 cans (16 oz) beans" listed. One can of beans is 16 ounces so did they want two cans of beans for a total of 32 ounces of beans or just one can for 16 ounces? I shrugged and figured I'd just add as many beans as I saw fit. I started the vegetables off in a wok and as they cooked I realized I had chosen the wrong-sized pan. I had yet to add the meat and beans. Not only do I always choose the wrong knife I always choose the wrong pan too. I heated up a big soup pot and transferred the vegetables so everything would fit.

I took the meat out of the fridge to slice. I was less than impressed and thought to myself "This better not be a glorified hot dog because that's what it smells and looks like." The recipe called for "andouille sausage" which I could not find at our local store. The butcher was wandering around when I was pacing the meat aisle but I didn't want to ask him because I didn't know how to properly pronounce "andouille". It's a French word so it's Latin-based, like Spanish, so is that double "l" silent? When did I get so stupid? Did it happen when I crossed the Mississippi or when I changed time zones? I could substitute any smoked sausage so I grabbed a store brand that was a "summer sausage" and went on my merry way.

After I dumped the meat in with the vegetables I consulted the recipe. "Cook sausage until done." Well, wtf does that mean "until done"? When it turns purple? When it stops screaming? Until I stop screaming? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? I peered into the pan and said, "Whatever, I can overcook this a bit, right?" But then the vegetables started to burn so I hastily added both cans of beans. I slammed the lid on the pan to wait for David to come home and reassure me. Then I screamed, "Oh eff! I need to add the Creole seasoning!" The Creole seasoning was a gift from David's brother after a trip to New Orleans and one of the reasons I cooked this dish was because we had the seasoning.

Then David came home, declared it done and delicious. I told him the problems I had with the recipe and he said, "Samina, food doesn't come in 8 oz cans. Duh. And you can't under-cook sausage it's already cooked. You buy it cooked. You are just heating it up." I always assume that the food I buy at the store, "fresh", is riddled with disease and must be sterilized. If I wanted prepared food I would go to the drive-thru of any fast food place and gamble with the prep part. I also assume the recipes on the backs of cans don't need to be re-written like this recipe. Next time I will cook the meat first and add the vegetables so they don't burn. Just like the other day when I tried to make Rice Krispy treats - another easy recipe off the box. They were edible despite melting the butter too fast and also burning most of the marshmallows as I tried to melt those too. The fault can't possibly lie with me. I bet the test kitchens of corporate America are just plain ol' lazy. Betty Crocker is the only one you can trust. Trust me when I say that.