CPR, the Y, and HIPPA

The American Red Cross came out with new Covid-19 guidelines for teaching CPR just recently.  Yesterday was my first class under them.  According to the Red Cross, if everyone in the class has been vaccinated for Covid, face masks are not required.  I checked with the Y.  If everyone in the class has been vaccinated, face masks are not required.

So as people came into class yesterday, I simply asked if they had been vaccinated.  Nobody gave my question a second thought except Gabe.  

"Isn't that against HIPPA to ask?"

"I don't know.  But what I do know is if one person comes into this room unvaccinated, we will ALL be wearing our facemasks."

No more questions asked.

Thank You, Mrs. Bakke's Fifth Grade Class

Aimee asked me if I could come in to her classroom after lunch today and I said, "Sure."  I'd heard rumor that her fifth graders were going to do something fun for me, so I set my expectations low and walked in the room at 12:35 p.m.

Boy, was I ever wrong!  First, Aimee handed me the most gorgeous hanging plant in our school color - purple!  That was followed by a card from the class that just made me laugh.  Next was "Droolin' Moose Mint Meltaways" with a card from Aimee.  

But she wasn't done yet.  No, played a game of "Cahoots" with the answers always being "Mrs. Bakke", "Mrs. Zupke", "Both" or "Neither".  It was hilarious as the kids tried to figure out which one of us was born out of state (both), who was a lifeguard (Zupke), who painted their fingernails (Bakke), and more!  

I couldn't have had a more phenomenal ending to an already excellent year!

Thank you, Mrs. Bakke and your 2020-2021 fifth grade class! 

Thankful Thursday

My Thursday started off with what was supposed to be a quick lab, until the phlebotomist said, "I can't take your blood today.  It hasn't been six weeks since your last lab."  

Maybe you remember my post on Mr. Incompetent?  I was pretty sure he had taken the wrong tests on May 4.  Yesterday proved it.  Now, instead of running in and getting a lab, I had to contact my doctor's office to see when to reschedule the labs.  I got to contact the clinic liaison and explain what the phlebotomist on May 4 had done wrong.  I got to contact my insurance company to let them know I was being billed for tests that were incorrectly taken.  I had to reschedule my labs and eventually will return again.  I was in a rather foul mood.  

Until I got home and read my friend's CaringBridge post.  She's having her fourth brain surgery, one with limited options:

• Twenty percent chance of chance of catastrophic failure, which could mean death, a severe stroke or a debilitating stroke;
• Do it now or watch a decline.  The surgery might show a slower decline.
• This surgery might offer a better opportunity to live life to the fullest.
• Scary, but necessary.
• Remove tumor up to carotid artery to remove pressure on the brain.   
• The possibility of speech and physical therapy for six to eight months. 
• There really is no other option. 

Wow!  That was one quick way to end my private pity party!  I sent her a text.  "Lunch.  When?  I'm off work at 12:45 p.m. today."  She met me at my house and we went to Red Robin where we spent a couple of very good hours together.  When she dropped me off at home, I told her I was having a crappy day until I read her post.  Then, I was very thankful I was not her.  My concerns are absolutely nothing compared to hers.  She just laughed.

The Dishwasher

I can't even remember when the dishwasher died, but I do know that after the first repairman left, Sam just said, "Misdiagnosed."  

Doing what he didn't want to do (isn't that why we have repairmen?), Sam took apart the dishwasher, found the problem, and was able to jury rig a solution until the repairman returned on Wednesday.

This repairman agreed with Sam (way to go, Zupke!) and ordered the correct parts on Wednesday.  Just two more full weeks of dishpan hands and we may be back in business . . .   

Christina

The kinder class I was assigned for recess this year is full to overflowing with opportunities - and I don't mean the good kind!  With only four days of school left, I could tell their teacher was getting overwhelmed and exhausted, a problem I knew could be helped with some "chocolate therapy".

I stopped by Christina's room on my way up to the lunchroom yesterday with some Droolin' Moose Amaretto chocolates and set them on her desk.  You know every kinder in the room wanted to know, "What's that?", "Who's it for?"  "Can I see it?"

"Well, it's for your teacher and if she wants to show you, she will."  

I left.  An hour later Christina met me at the door to bring her kinders in from recess with a huge smile on her face.  "That's exactly what I needed.  All I did during my lunch break was eat chocolate.  I feel so much better."

To God be the glory.  

Ibrahima

 

One evening 22-year-old Ibrahima pulled his motorcycle over to help a woman on the side of the road. While moving a can of gasoline, he lost his grip and spilled the fuel down his clothes. A nearby cooking fire ignited his soaked clothing, and before Ibrahima could register what was happening, his clothes were in flames.  Strangers ran to help put out the fire from his body and rushed him to a local clinic, but the medical resources there were extremely limited. Ibrahima spent the next month lying curled up in bed, immobilized by the excruciating pain.

Over time and without proper wound care, Ibrahima's open wounds closed forming into ridged scars which left his legs locked and permanently bent at the knees.   No longer able to walk, Ibrahima went from a man able to work and help others, to someone who had to be carried everywhere he went.   "It makes me very sad ... I can't work.  I can't get money. So I just sit inside the house."      -Ibrahima

Activities of daily living were now impossible alone, and involved being lifted on his older brother's back to move about. The knowledge that his independence was gone broke Ibrahima's heart.  "I couldn't be with people the way I was before," Ibrahima said."Sometimes, I felt helpless, like I might really be this way forever." Ibrahima dreamed of being able to walk again, but the limited medical care available to him made surgery seem impossible.

Then, one day, hope arrived when a local doctor told him about a hospital ship coming to his home country. Before long, Ibrahima came to the Africa Mercy with tentative hopes that change might be in sight. It took the help of his brother and several Mercy Ships staff to bring Ibrahima up the gangway steps and onto the ship for his operation.

Ibrahima's rehab process was grueling and intense. For several months, he visited the ship several times a week for exercises that stretched his healing legs, strengthened his muscles, and improved his mobility. It was in this exertion that his resilience shone through — Ibrahima had his independence back. "I feel taller,' he said. "I was always sitting and seeing the world from a lower level. It felt like everyone was looking down on me." "Now, I see everything from high up!"    - Ibrahima

Now able to move freely and with a renewed ability to return to work and earn a living, Ibrahima feels like a new man. The surgery he received on the Africa Mercy has allowed him to see the world in a new way — a way full of hope.

Coagulated Organic Coconut Milk

Earlier this year, my neighbor asked if we ever used coconut milk.  We have ONE recipe that calls for it, so I said, "Sure" and took the can of coconut milk home.  

Today was the day I decided to use it.  I opened the can and it was NOT a liquid, no, it was pretty solid.  Now I haven't used a lot of coconut milk in my day, but I was quite sure this wasn't a can I wanted to use.

Sure enough, I checked the expiration date - 2018.  Naturally, I was half way through the recipe so I ran off to Cub . . .