A New Chapter and Verse: October 2015

I would venture to say that most, if not all, DMV offices are horrible places to have to visit, but I thought going to one in a smaller town would be faster and more efficient. Not so. Did you ever play "Shoots and Ladders" as a child? They probably don't even make it any longer, but if you did, the similarity of my experience to the game is startling. Those of you who have played that game, will understand what I mean.

To begin with, I made an "appointment" online because the website claims you will be helped quicker with an appointment. Not so. When I arrived, there were two lines - one said "Appointments Only" and the other said "Non-Appointments." I, of course, went into the "Appointments Only" line because I cleverly scheduled an "appointment" ahead of time, on their website. However, I stood there for a good, LONG time, listening to others complaining about having an "appointment" but still having to wait in line like the other folks who did not have an "appointment." Finally, I got to the front of the line and the very young man behind the counter who called me over, had no idea what to do with me. He asked his supervisor, came back and gave me an application, and told me to go "over there," to sit down and fill it out and then bring it back in line. The end of the line, which was now even longer than when I first started. Ok, I can do that.

After standing in the back of the line once again, for what seemed like hours, I finally got to the front and this time another person looked at my application and said I was missing this and that, and I would have to go and sit down again and fill in the information he highlighted, and get back to the end of the line! At this point, my patience was beginning to wear very thin. When I finally got to the head of the line, again, I saw the same person, who looked at the application and he gave me a receipt and told me to go and sit down "over there" and wait for my number to be called.

Finally, my number was called and I went up to the counter, and gave the lady who was actually nice to me, "Michelle" and who knew what she was doing, my paperwork. After calculating what I needed, she said it would cost me $1500 to register my car in California, that I bought in Wisconsin. I nearly passed out. In a very loud voice, I said, "WHAT???" You have GOT to be kidding me!?" She explained that it was a California user tax that I had to pay, because I bought the car in another state within 90 days. I looked at her as if she was a Martian talking in a Martian language, but she wouldn't budge. I asked her rhetorically where she thought I was going to get that kind of money, as I just moved here and I'm on a fixed income, blah, blah, blah, knowing full well she wouldn't have the answer. She did apologize and shrugged her shoulders which was a small consolation, I guess.

She said that I could get the registration now and the plates later when I had the money, so I paid her $288 to get my registration and a temporary sticker that lasts 30 days until I can pay for the remaining $1300. Wow. This was unbelievable. I waited in line THREE times only to find out the cost was astronomical. I had put online what I needed to do at the DMV, which included getting my driver's license. She said I should have told that to the guy I first saw, and I told her that I already put that on the online application, but she said that information is "not passed along to them." Another WOW. Apparently the stuff they ask you online isn't transmitted to the offices where you actually have to GO. I guess they just put it on there for fun - including making an "appointment." She was kind enough to go and get an application for me and told me to go "over there" to fill it out and let her know when I was done, which I did. I was ready to do the eye test and picture thing for my license and she asked for my birth certificate. I said, "Of course I don't have that - how in the world would I have known you would ask me for that?! Now that would have been useful information to put online. I've had a driver's license since I was 16 years old!" She said I had to have an original birth certificate to get my driver's license, so now I have to scour my house to find that. They wouldn't take another state's word that I already have a driver's license. I have to prove I was born here. I left about one and a half hours later, frustrated and exhausted. It was worse than an aerobic workout. At least with that, there's a benefit to it.

Wait. There's more. After I typed this all out but didn't finish it yet, I received a notice in the mail from the California DMV, just yesterday, stating I owed them $3000, not $1500 which was originally told to me. I looked at the letter and heard in my head an explosion about to erupt. I think this is when God intervened, because I started saying out loud, "It's ok. This is gonna work itself out. This will be ok. This will be ok. This will be ok," chanting the last part over and over until I actually believed it. I think this is the first time in my life, that I ever talked myself out of a meltdown. I mean, I'm just being honest here. When I first read the letter, my initial instinct was to have a full-blown conniption fit and hunt down the director of the California Department of Motor Vehicles. I don't know how or why this happened, but I think this will all work out, one way or the other... So she said, chanting to herself...

It's hard to believe I haven't written in my blog for over a year, but such is the case. SO much has happened this past year, but I won't bore you with all the details. What I'd like to write about is what stands out in my mind the most - that I can remember, anyway.

It's been a year and a half since my bariatric surgery and I've lost 132 pounds so far. I'd like to lose more but it's slowed way down so I'll lose more, but at a much slower rate, which is ok too. I'm just glad I feel better and can do things I haven't done in a long time. That isn't to say I'm not in any pain - I am. And just as much as before I lost the weight. I have arthritis throughout my body that is degenerative, which means, it gets worse, not better. There are some things I can do that help with it, which I'm already starting to do. I started with my knees because I want so very much to walk again. You really can't appreciate that until you're unable to do something like you once did. It's very discouraging and frustrating, but I'm coming up slowly on the backside of that so the goal is in sight.

I had complete knee replacement on my left knee in April of this year. Both of my knees are bad but the surgeon said my left one was worse than the right, so we started with that one first. It was more painful than I imagined. It took awhile for the doctors to get the right amount of pain meds working, as I already take pain meds for all the other things wrong in my body and so I have a higher threshold level in the first place, but they finally did. The doctor did warn me that because of my diagnosis of chronic pain, and the meds I already take, that it may be more difficult for them to control this new pain with my knee. He was right. But eventually they did find the right ones at the right doses. Physical therapy, which starts almost immediately after surgery, brought on the pain even more. Most days, that brought on the worst pain I experienced, but it was needful because I had to bend and straighten my knee as far as I could, so it didn't freeze up on me and I wasn't able to correct that later. It's been 6 months since that surgery, and I can honestly say, I can walk on that leg without the pain in my knee any longer, except for some twitches if I move a certain way, or stand up and sit down. The surgeon assured me that that would correct itself in time too. He said that most patients take about a year to heal to the point where you not only don't feel the pain, you forget it was ever there. That'll be awesome!

On the other hand, my right knee, which WAS my good knee, is very painful now, because of putting all my weight on that one while I was recuperating. So now I have to do surgery on that knee, which to be honest, I'm dragging my feet on (literally, too). I'm a baby when it comes to pain. I prefer a painless life, but of course, that isn't reality, so another knee surgery I must have. Maybe in a few months. In the meantime, I am actually able to walk around more now than I have in several years. It's easier when I'm pushing something, like a grocery cart - but still, it's a most liberating feeling after all this time. When I walk into a store and I see a mobile cart sitting in the corner, I flip my nose up at it and proclaim, "I don't need you any longer, you wretched thing!" I hated backing up in it because it beeped really loud like a garbage truck, so everyone within a mile knew you were riding it. Sometimes, I drove all the way around the aisle, just to avoid backing up. That, and passing little 90-year-old ladies pushing a cart, made me feel very embarrassed using the mobile one. And then there were the "soccer moms" with the spandex, displaying a perfect physique, carrying a tribe of children in her arms, looking like she never had one of those in her belly, and who seemed to scowl at me from on high. Yes, I guess my pride gets the best of me at times, but it also spurred me on to getting the help I needed and finally joining the rest of the mostly "normal" world.

Ah yes, and then there was my birthday, on which I turned 60. Talk about surrealistic. That's a weird feeling that now I'm as old as I remember my mom to be when I thought SHE was old. Of course, now I realize she wasn't old at all - just a little past her prime - whatever prime means in that context. Leah threw a great birthday/going away party for me a week before my birthday, which was really cool, but a bit awkward, as I'm always uncomfortable being the center of attention. It was fun though and I appreciated Leah doing this for me.

So today, as I sit here writing, I'm sitting in the living room of my new apartment in Stockton, California. On September 21st, Micah flew to Chicago to meet me and help me drive back to Stockton where I'm living now. It was a long, but nice road trip, being able to talk, laugh and sometimes yell at my youngest son. He has lived across the country from me for over 10 years, and I decided that it was time for me to move to where he is now, although that was a difficult decision because I have 2 other children and 6 1/2 grandchildren back in Madison. The perfect scenario would be to spend the summers in Madison and the winters in Stockton, but alas, that costs more than I could ever afford, so for now, this is the best solution. Micah and Jasmine have my 7th grandchild, Kennidee Rose, who I call Kenni, and she is a beautiful, spunky 1 year old, who I just adore. You tell her, "No, Kenni, don't touch the tv," and she turns around, looks at you and smiles and touches it anyway, and I have to cover my face while I laugh. Or she throws herself backwards when she wants to do something that she isn't able to do, and that also makes me laugh. Poor Micah. If there is a thing called "payback" for what you put your mother through, it could be with this child. She's a strong-willed and focused little girl, much like her daddy was. But then, look at how her daddy turned out - he's an Associate Pastor at a large church, with much respect from students at the college to older adults and his peers, and I am so proud of him. So you never know - Kenni may be a doctor, a scientist or a missionary - please, anything other than someone in politics.

Kenni hides nuts in her cheeks... ;)

I've attached a few pictures to this rather long blog today, and I apologize for that. I guess I'm just so happy to be writing again, that I got carried away.