It was 50 yrs ago that a group of boys started an adventure. Today they are old men and the adventure continues. . .

In 1972 the Vietnam War saw three U. S. Allies leave South Vietnam. Australia, New Zealand & Thailand which had sent military contingents, withdrew them. Negotiators in Paris were trying to reach a peace agreement and come up with a withdrawal strategy for American forces. When the North Vietnamese launched the Easter offensive, it lead to a large increase in airstrikes and a resumption of bomb attacks. Back home, the largest University protests became violent.

Servicemen then did not receive the “Thank you for your service” accolades that are commonplace today. They were called, “baby killers” & spat on when in uniform at the airport. When the war ended there was no “Welcome Home” for them. Despite what was going on above deck and back home it was the responsibility of R-Division to maintain the U. S. S. John F. Kennedy. Over three football fields in length with over 5000 men on board (no women on ships yet) the aircraft carrier was a floating city that just happened to have an airport on top of it. The men of R-Division were also the fire department and the first responders for damage control.

From 1972 -`1975 some sailors were discharged, some stayed in the Navy & some made the ultimate sacrifice. Those who came home built lives and went on with them. Many years later, like 35 years later, two of the old R-Divison guys, Dan Baker & John Kress found each other and met in Western New York State where John still lives. Like lighting a fuse, a spark was created that traveled through a wire or in this case a wireless device. The internet was full of sites where people could try and reclaim relationships: classmates, neighborhoods, organizations and . . veterans. My husband, who loves living in the past, was trolling one of these sites when he received a message. It was from Dan Baker who was asking if he was the Don Russo who served on The JFK. Further investigation lead to finding 2 more shipmates and The Original Five, as they’re now known, were planning a reunion. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the reunion was going to be held at Rancho Russo. So it seemed I was going to be spending the July 4th holiday of 2010 with a bunch of strangers.

And strange they were! One guy needed to be picked up at the airport because when he got off the plane he realized his drivers license was expired so he couldn’t rent a car. He called the house asking if Don could rent one for him. Uh, HARD NO from me. I stared at my husband and asked just what kind of deadbeats he was bringing to my home? (Duffey, who I most affectionately refer to as “The Admiral” for his ability to throw his weight around and secure us free rail passes at Great Meadow, free tours, museum visits and various other jaunts, was not a deadbeat after all.) During this first reunion the guys visited all the monuments in Washington, D. C. & we had a hot but spectacular July 4th at Gread Meadow which included an air show, skydiving & awesome fireworks.

After the reunion the guys stayed in touch by creating a Facebook page that they would use to live chat with each other once a week. They talked about the good old days and how they didn’t appreciate those times and lamented that they wished they could visit the ship just once more. They found a few more R-Divison guys but a lot of other Kennedy veterans found them. Through the magic of Facebook, Don’s Kennedy page had about 3500 members. It was the largest Kennedy Veteran’s site to exist at that time. It became so big & crowded that they guys retreated to a separate private Facebook page for just former R-Divison members from 1972-1976. The volume of engagement that the Kennedy page attracted caught the attention of a group called the Rhode Island Kennedy Project. This organization was raising money to make a floating museum out of the Kennedy to be located in Rhode Island.

The Kennedy had been decommissioned in 2007 and was now sitting in mothballs up at the Philadelphia Naval Yard. One night Don received a phone call from a man named Frank who was looking to gain support from Kennedy veterans for the Rhode Island Project. There was a fundraising event planned that was to be attended by a lot of big wigs. Congressmen, astronauts, admirals and the like were to receive tours of the Kennedy docked in Philly so the vision for the project could be spread. Frank needed the veterans on board, so to speak. He offered Don a position on the board of directors. Don accepted with one condition . . .

December 2010 on the waterfront in Philly was cold. The guys spent 2 days touring the ship. Unfortunately, the below decks areas that the R-Division shops occupied were off limits for security reasons. Boy, if they could only get down to the old haunts! The shipyard workers were also onboard during these tours. They silently observed as all the important guests were being led around with these 5 ordinary guys. The Yard Birds, as these workers are referred to, came up to Don and inquired exactly who they were since they were obviously not dignitaries. Don explained that they were just regular “squids” who fell into this opportunity quite accidentally & he filled in the story details. He finished the tale by saying, “And what we wouldn’t give to see our old stations again!” The Yard Birds responded with, “Tell us where you want to go.” This is how the Original Five had their dreams come true.

It was decided that the following summer there would be another reunion. This time in a Pennsylvania state park. It would be a camping trip. It would be fun!

Turns out it would be the hottest week of that summer with temperatures in the low 100s. We were tent camping but least you think we didn’t have amenities I can assure you we were pretty well equipped. Duffey came rolling in with a trailer that held an entire camp kitchen complete with a suckling pig for roasting and the apparatus to do so. Don had brought our long, event canopy & John had a generator that powered 2 fans at either end of the canopy. There was a lake in which my soul sista Amy (Johns wife), my son Darren & I immersed ourselves from morning until dinner time in an attempt at not melting away. We picked up 2 new R-Divison guys, Mike & Donovan (Mike worked for Hershey Candy at the time and brought an entire cooler full of chocolates much to my delight). I took a lot of guff for my “glamping” tent as the guys couldn’t believe my set up.

Then Don hit the motherlode. He found the guy who was assigned to mentor him when he first arrived on board the Kennedy. Reno Righetti (not a made up gangster name) grew up not far from us in The Bronx. He & Don had never met prior to the Navy but they became fast friends and Don had been searching for him for a while. We had our own reunion with Reno & his wife, Donna in Atlantic City, NJ and when Don told him all about the R-Divison reunions he was all in for the next one.

In 2012 Boston, MA was the site of the next, and biggest reunion thus far. The Duffeys live on a lakefront property outside of Boston & they had big plans. There was swimming & fishing at the lake and trips on their “party barge”. Duffey was working for the National Parks Service at the time and had arranged for us to have a tour of the USS Constituiton. “Old Ironsides” as it’s known, is the oldest commisioned war ship that’s still afloat. There’s a museum on site and we had access to that as well. They day also included a luncheon at the Union Oyster House which has been in operation since 1826.

A few more R-Division alumni attended Boston as the guys kept contacting more & more shipmates. People came from all over the country. New additions were Rick “Bear” Morgan, Wayne Horton & George Mousakis.The Boston Reunion was also the first time all the wives were together. Amy & I were the OG wives and I am the only wife to attend every single reunion. The Women of R-Division Ladies Auxilliary was founded.

Western Pennsylvania would host the 2014 reunion as Cyndi & Dan Baker stepped up to the plate and found us a lovely rental house. This was to be a smaller reunion. The house had 2 big porches, a backyard, plenty of rooms and even an apartment upstairs that Don, Damian & I occupied that weekend. The house backed up to a walking trail that ran alongside a creek. We made use of this peaceful path. Amy & Damian even took up litter patrol and cleaned up any wayward trash along the way. This was the first reunion missing one of the orginal 5 as the Duffeys couln’t make it to Pennsylvania that year.

Then in 2015 it was all hands on deck as we joined the Shipwide Reunion held in Norfolk, VA. This reunion was open to all the Kennedy veterans and the Rhode Island Kennedy Project was hosting a reception for its members to provide a status update. There was a dinner banquet and various other events throughout the weekend. Some of the other Kennedy veterans groups that our guys knew were there as well. Cyndi, Amy, Damian & I stole off to the beach for an afternoon. Frank, who was the president of the Rhode Island Project, thought it would be a good idea to put Don in charge of procuring the alchohol for the reception. I was always very suspect of Franks decision making after that. Needless to say, much alcohol was consumed and after breaking off from the big groups the boys went late into the night in the lobby sitting areas.

The Kresses took the task for planning the 2016 reunion which entailed us renting several cabins at Letchworth State Park in western New York. Renowned as the Grand Canyon of the east, this parks main feature is a gorge which is cut by the Genesee River. There are 2 waterfalls as well as all the structures built by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Unfortunately we were visiting during a severe drought which held the falls to mere trickles but the scenery was spectacular anyway. There was a trail near our cabin which I would take to the lower falls in the morning for a great meditation spot. Early there were no other visitors for a little while so it was exremely peaceful while communing with nature. We took turns cooking meals and held ‘arts & crafts’ sessions where the boys engraved their names on an axe which is one of the symbols for the hull technicians on board the aircraft carrier. The girls and the kids made bookmarks with washi tape provided by Amy and we had a memorable girls night of card playing at Camp Kress. We mad an ice cream run for a local favorite, “Perry’s Ice Cream” and I swooned over their flavor named, “LemonChillo”. Nigths were spent by the fireside.

The new R-Divison guys now wanted their chance to see the Kennedy while it was still docked in Philly. It only made sense to host the 2018 reunion in the City of Brotherly Love. On a prior visit Don & I had scouted out a location that could meet our needs. It had to have an area where the guys could congregate & just hang out and chat. We also had to be able to hold a ceremony that had become integral to the reunions. A flag that was retired from service was burned as a tribute to the R-Division members who had passed away since the last reunion. (Most of R-Divison were exposed to numerous service related toxins: asbestos & fire fighting foam being at the top of the list.) We found a hotel that had an expansive back patio that overlooked the river. We could set up canopies and the manager even provided for us to be able to burn our flags. Once again, we attracted some more new members who hadn’t attended prior reunions. It was a rousinig success! The guys went off to the Navy Yard and myself and some of the girls hit the next door casino. WIN/WIN! A local restaurant even sent a van to shuttle us over to them so no one had to worry about alchohol consumption.

The 2020 plans were interrupted by the Covid-19 pandemic and by 2022 the guys were needing a get together. The Rhode Island Project lost their bid for possession of the Kennedy and at this time it is slated to be towed to Texas and disassembled for scrap. It currently remains in Philly.

Time for a return to Rancho Russo, where it all began. Although smaller by comparison to the Philly reunion, once again the guys unearthed another newly found brother who joined the festivities. The folks at the Udvar-Hazy Center of the National Air & Space Museum provided a wonderful guided tour for our guys and while the weather wasn’t ideal the rain didn’t damper any spirits.

The Bakers had been noticeably absent from the past 3 reunions and they offered to host the 2023 reunion and move it west to Kentucky. This would enable more of the heartland & western dwelling members an easier commute as everything to date had been held more to the east. Several Airbnb locations were acquired and a hotel wasn’t too far away. Williamstown, just a short deviation off the Bourbon Trail, was the chosen site. This affair would turn out to be the reunion all others will be judged by as the Bakers pulled out all stops and literally got the whole town involved.

Behind the scenes the Bakers had acquired a list of sponsers who provided us with food & beverages, tickets to the Ark Encounter (full-sized Noahs Ark anchors this theme park), a parade en route to a tour of & reception at Patriots Landing ( a showroom for the Veteran-staffed workshop producing fine crafted wood products. All made in America by this nonprofit organization that supports a host of veterans causes.) We also paid our respects at the newest veterans memorial in honor of Gold Star families. All of this occured while still allowing for plenty of socializing, visits to Buffalo Trace distillery, attending a music festival and patronizing the local shops & restaurants. Did I mention the local news coverage? TV & newspaper both came out and interviewed the guys who turned out to be quite the local celebrities that weekend. Everyone in the town new about them and they were finally welcomed home with open arms.

The Brandwine Valley area of Pennsylvania, specifically near Valley Forge will be the site of the next reunion. Admiral Duffey will no doubt be using his influence to make some more notable memories for the men of R-Division. Frankly, I think they’ll be happy just to sit around together no matter where that occurs. They keep a close watch on the Kennedy and are planning to try to be there when she takes that last voyage to Texas. That will be a sad day for them. I am keeper of the artifacts from the reunions. There’s a scrapbook, many photos, a slide show I update, books, newspapers & other ephemera that I’ve colected for them. They’ll always have those memories and the new ones they create each time they meet. Fair winds & following seas to you.

for Margaret

Shout outs to these fine folks:

The Old Stone Wall Airbnb in Willliamstown, KY & the best hosts on the planet, Susan & Steve Amorese

Kentucky Times Airbnb in Williamstown, KY

Patriots Landing – shop at http://operationhonor.org/collections/all

The Ark Encounter

7 Hills Church

I had an ambitious itinerary for today. We needed to maximize our 1 full day in the park by hitting 4 major areas. We arrived at the trailhead for Endless Wall at 8:30 am. I took the ranger seriously when she told me yesterday to get there before 9:00 am and take the trail and head in the opposite direction for the best views before the crowds reach them. We weren’t disappointed at all.

We discovered that the power was still out in the park from the terrible storm yesterday. It also made for a muddy trail which was also pretty rocky in parts. There are access points for rock climbing along some of the “social” (unofficial) trails.

This hike from point to point is about 3 miles with the Diamond Point overlook being about midway.

There is dense forest between the lookout points and it’s thick with wild rhododendrons that are just starting to bud and bloom. It must be spectacular when it’s all in full bloom.

Needless to say the weather today was a far cry from the heat, humidity and storms of yesterday. It was sunny, about 70 degrees and expected to dip into the 40s tonight. Upon returning to our car we set the coordinates for our next stop which would be the Grandview section. This area is one of the deepest areas of the park. It is much cooler as there is a ‘natural air conditioner’ where a crack in the rock emits cool air.

Damian did a little rock climbing by himself when we explored the sandstone formations along the Tunnel Trail which has areas of flagstone stairways. We took a lunch break and then headed to the Thurmond historical area which is an honest to goodness ghost town. A railroad boom town that hit its heyday in the early 1900s then started to decline with the great depression and when coal fired steam engines were replaced by diesel its fate was sealed. The old depot from 1902 is now restored and houses the Visitors Center. It was here we again encountered the ranger we met yesterday at the Canyon Rim. She’s the one who posed the question, “What’s the difference between a gorge and a canyon?” The answer is there is no difference. They are one and the same. Obviously the rangers get bored and take to antagonizing park patrons.

At one point many years ago 15 passenger trains a day ran through Thurmond. Surprisingly, it is still an active Amtrak stop along The Cardinal line that runs from Penn Station in NYC to Chicago. According to our ranger friend this is the warmest part of the park.

Our day would end at Sandstone Falls. The New River is one of our finest stretches of whitewater where the elevation drops 750 ft in 50 miles. At this point we witnessed a huge flock of birds swimming on and diving into the river. Although we couldn’t tell what type of birds they were it was a sight to behold.

This park is enormous, full of adventures and absolutely free! There are no entrance nor admission charges. If you get a chance come visit wild, wonderful WV and experience this national treasure.

On June 18 Don turns 67 years old. He looks pretty good dontcha think? Since his birthday is so close to Father’s Day I try to plan extra special things. This year it’s a trip to the newest U. S. national park which is New River Gorge National Park in lovely West by God stand up & smile when you say it Virginia.

The gorge area is comprised of three rivers: the New River and the Bluestone & Gauley Rivers. Coal mining and the railroad brought industry and recreational usage of this area followed in the 20th century. Today world class whitewater, rock climbing, fishing, hiking, biking & camping are among the many outdoor activities that bring folks here.

The bridge is 876 ft high and on Bridge Day traffic is restricted to pedestrians only and many bungee jump from it. Today I considered jumping off the bridge sans bungee when after a harrowing 4 hour ride through the Midland trail (WV Rt 60) we arrived at the Canyon Rim Visitors Center just in time for a thunderstorm that was so strong it completely knocked out the power. Relegated to standing in the dark my park ranger whipped out her cell phone to continue marking my routes for tomorrows hikes and adventures. Undaunted by the lighter rain that followed the squall we set out to drive the one way road that leads down into the canyon. One advantage of the rain was it kept most sane people off the road as downed trees and flooding were a distinct possibility on the descent. We were rewarded with some misty mountain vistas.

If you are less adventurous there’s a walkway that affords some nice bridge and river views as well.

We met the goals we had for that section of the park so we headed back over the crazy, windy road towards where we were staying outside of the town of Lewisburg. This is the area that is home to the famous Greenbrier resort which houses the bunker that Congress members were to be taken to in the event of an attack during the Cold War. Lewisburg is a picturesque small town with a fairly busy historic district. We strolled around a bit scoping out possibilities for dining tomorrow for Don’s birthday.

Tomorrow we will rise early and traipse back over to the gorge for some more exploring then return to our little cabin for some birthday cake.

Question from our park ranger: What’s the difference between a gorge and a canyon? I’ll tell you in the next post.

Currently two states have staffing agency wage caps in place. They are Massachusetts and Minnesota. These caps were in place prior to the pandemic and the pay rates were raised in response to the increased pandemic staffing needs. There are currently no federal laws proposed however, there have been several associations including the American Health Care Association that have penned letters requesting federal agencies intervene to “protect consumers from anti-competitive and unfair practices”. Connecticut enacted fines designed to prohibit profiteering during emergencies. Pennsylvania is the only other state so far to have a solid plan to move forward with legislation aimed at staffing agencies due to the spearheading of Rep. Timothy Bonner. Oregon, Illinois, Kansas & Kentucky are also currently considering legislation. (Remember that when it’s time to sign those travel contracts.)

Let’s be fair. Agencies are pocketing somewhere in the neighborhood of 40% of those fees they are collecting and I know of no person that begrudges bedside nurses their current wages. My informal survey of friends and family enthusiastically claim, “It’s not enough.” So, what to do going forward so nurses get paid what they have deserved all along while allowing for American free-market enterprise to continue to be the shining example of economic policy? I have a few suggestions:

Hold A Draft: New graduate nurses enter into a pool with their seeding determined by a complex algorithm that includes their GPA, school attended, honors & awards. Hospitals, in turn, are assigned draft pick selections based on such determinants as their Magnet status, benefit & salary packages, orientation programs & level of tuition assistance. (By the way, if Dollywood ever opens a hospital I am there!) Not for Profits go in the first pool to pick and For Profits go in the last pool.

Unrestricted Free Agency: Nurses may be eligible after a minimum of 6 years of bedside nursing experience. A nurse must file for free agency within 10 days of the next Covid-19 variant surge and submit that stupid portfolio they’ve amassed for performance evaluations. (Let’s make it good for something.) All interested hospitals have 10 days to make their offers and only For Profits have a salary cap.

Privateering: Cruise ships hired by and full of nurses pull into ports of call on specified days. Hospital administrators meet at the arrivals terminal bearing treasure chests full of gold, silver & jewels and carrying casks of rum. The lawyers the nurses have hired review all contract submissions while the nurses party. Nurses consider attorney recommendations and sign accordingly after they have sobered up. All billable hours and cruise line expenses are covered by the hospitals.

As these practices have already been proven to be successful at recruiting and retaining NFL & NBA players & entertainment moguls so why reinvent the wheel? Surely those highly educated, technically adept, angels of mercy merit the same type of treatment and compensation. In fact, let’s do away with staffing agencies and set up a system akin to player agents. Let’s call them angel agents. (Show me the morphine!) I offer my services as representative and negotiator for any of my travel nursing friends seeking assignments (for a small fee, it’s the American way).

I am no stranger to pain. We have developed an intimate relationship over the years. From fingers closed in moving cab doors to natural childbirth, bone breaks requiring more hardware to be installed than my kitchen cabinets and ruptured, gangrenous appendix removals I could always be assured of one thing – whatever the pain was at the time, it would end. Enter a different pain. An unrelenting pain that accompanied me through my waking moments and invaded my dreams at night. A pain that became something I could rely on through the years that slowly over time took away more and more of the things that bring me enjoyment.

Say hello to osteoarthritis of the hip. I have had hip pain since my late 30s. Numerous years ago I described to my then primary care doctor what I was experiencing and he took an x-ray, told me I had some ‘mild’ arthritic changes in my hip, poked and prodded me then figured out I had some serious bursitis. Home I went on non-steroidal anti-inflammatory medication (Motrin). It helped and I stopped taking them. It’s important to note that I didn’t say, “It went away”. I said, “It helped”.

A medical literature search (yes, I can still do that) revealed that chronic pain, “negatively impacts multiple aspects of patient health, including sleep, cognitive processes and brain function, mood/mental health, cardiovascular health, sexual function, and overall quality of life. Furthermore, chronic pain has the capacity to become increasingly complex in its pathophysiology, and thus potentially more difficult to treat over time.” (If you want the reference citation I’ll be happy to provide you with it.) As time went on I began to have more consistent episodes with hip pain. A planned trip to China for 2 weeks which would entail a lot of walking precipitated me to visit my doctor and get a cortisone shot. This also worked well and got me through China. Soon I became more dependent on Naproxen and would take it regularly until my stomach started to bother me and then I would quit for a couple of weeks until the pain outvoted the health of my gastric mucosa. Years passed and I went from being able to easily knock out over 5 miles a day to barely being able to do 2 without a significant limp. By this time I had a new primary care doctor who did another x-ray and said, “Why don’t you try physical therapy?” He recommended some local PTs and I settled on a solo practitioner instead of a large group. I had a consult that lasted about 2 hours which included a thorough history and physical assessment at the end of which I was told, “I can’t help you. You need a hip replacement.”

Off I go for a consult with a very well known and highly recommended joint replacement “clinic” in Northern Virginia. They do (another) x-ray, the resident does a brief history and less than 5 minute physical. The attending physician comes in and tells me I have osteoarthritis of my hip and presents me with treatment options which include a more involved pain injection (no thanks) but he feels I am not taking a high enough dose of non-steroidal anti-inflammatory medication and suggests a new dosage. They say a hip replacement is in my future but probably at around age 70 (average age they tell me is 72). “How will I know when?” I ask. “You’ll know” he responds and off I go with a new Rx.

Fast forward another 2 years. Covid hits and a major part of our activity becomes walking on our mountain, gardening, landscaping and hitting our pool in the summer. All of these things become more painful and I am hobbled to some degree depending on the day. After a while, it no longer depends on the day. The Naproxen is once again bugging my gut, my flexibility is almost non-existent and my lower back plagues me with sciatica. I transition from a very physically active job to a sedentary one. I return to my primary care doctor for an overdue annual exam and he inquires about my hip. I tell him that I am frustrated beyond belief as I enjoy activities that I find increasingly hard to perform. I tell him I’m going to search for a female orthopedic doctor because maybe my issues are related to the supporting structures of my back and pelvis. He offers a suggestion to see a surgeon who specializes in hip & knee replacements. My doctor knows a fair number of doctors who have seen this guy all with good results. Sure, I’m game.

I arrive at the office and the first thing they do is take an x-ray. (Marie Curie was exposed to less radiation than I.) The surgeon enters and I tell him my tale. He shows me my x-ray (I am now pretty good at reading them) and tells me that all of my woes are related to my obvious hip arthritis which is now practically bone on bone in one area. He states that since I have been dealing with this for quite some time and have employed several of the key mitigation strategies used to treat the disorder we could continue with those treatments. He advises me that this will continue to worsen. We have a discussion about quality of life and my concerns that maybe I’m ‘too young” for hip replacement surgery. He tells me he recently performed a total hip replacement on a 35 yr old and average life of the replacement parts is about 30 years. I inquire about more specifics of the procedure itself. He says it would be done as a same day surgery, I would be up and walking after about an hour and would do my physical therapy at home. Further discussion ensues as I delve more specifically into materials, technique, risk, benefits, . . I won’t bore you with those details. At the end when I am satisfied he tells me that this is elective surgery and if I decide this is the route I want to take to let him know. I express that I wish to mull it over and discuss with my husband.

I decide to have a total hip replacement. My doctor’s office is a well oiled machine. I speak with his assistant who forwards my information to their scheduling person who puts me in touch with their finance department who calls my insurance company to verify my coverage. I receive an email from the total joint replacement specialist at the hospital I plan to have my surgery in and she gives me a power point presentation since mandatory classes have been suspended due to Covid. I have a virtual pre-op with the PA who will be assisting on my surgery and get all my medications prescribed and preauthorized.

Don picks up a cane, walker and elevated toilet seat from our local hospice. We know they lend this type of equipment because when Darren had his knee done our local hospital informed us of this valuable service. I have to have a Covid-19 test before surgery. I inquire if I can decline this since I am fully vaccinated and am informed that I can decline but they will decline to perform my surgery. I suggest they have their infectious disease department review the most recent studies. I wind up having 3 Covid tests: 1 for my pre op, 1 because I get sick right before my surgery and want to make sure I don’t have Covid and another before my rescheduled surgery.

I am given instructions to shower for 3 consecutive days before my surgery with a special cleanser and wear clean pajamas and have clean bed linens. I am given 3 Gatorade type beverages which I must consume the evening before and the morning of my surgery to keep me hydrated and provide some calories. I arrive the morning of my operation and get prepped for surgery. The Same Day Surgery staff at HCA Stone Springs Hospital are wonderful and I feel as comfortable as I can considering I am about to have my leg cut off and reattached in a short period of time. (This is how my son, Matthew, continuously refers to my surgery which results in my mind actually picturing this.)

I speak with the anesthesiologist and inform him that I am fine with a spinal but don’t want to hear any tools being used (to cut off my leg). He assures me that I won’t. Don decides he doesn’t want to have to sit around with a mask on and decides he will wait in the car until I am in recovery but then can’t go through with that plan and stays by my side until they wheel me into the OR.

I am wheeled into the OR at noon. I do recall sitting up for my spinal and having a conversation with the person who is supporting me about my tattoo. I have recollections about describing how I got it in Bangkok and then I remember no more until I heard, “Mrs. Russo, wake up.”

As I am being wheeled into the recovery area I see a clock on the wall and it says, 1:20 pm. How the hell do they do all that in about an hour? I had an anterior approach hip arthroplasty (technical name). In this procedure there is less muscle trauma as the muscles aren’t cut but instead are separated along the natural plane (with retractors by guys the size of lumberjacks), this results in less pain, quicker mobility, less risk of hip dislocation, less limping and shorter hospital stays.

• The surgeon makes a cut in front of your hip joint.
• The surgeon separates your muscles to see your hip joint.
• The surgeon removes the upper part of your femur (thigh bone) and the damaged cartilage and bone from your pelvis.
• The surgeon replaces your acetabulum (hip socket) and the head, neck, and part of the shaft of your femur (thigh bone) with an artificial joint. In my case the hip bone socket was lined with a plastic type cap, the ball joint was ceramic and the shaft that goes into the thigh bone is titanium.
• The surgeon uses X-ray & fluoroscopy to make sure the joint is in the right place.
• The surgeon or an assistant will close up the incision. My sutures were all internal and I had a waterproof occlusive dressing on for 2 weeks.

After the first hour while they insured I wasn’t going to die I was visited by the physical therapist who got me out of bed and walking with a walker. She walked me down the hall to a free-standing flight of stairs and taught me how to go up and down with the walker and explained the difference of doing it with a cane. When she was finished, the occupational therapist came in and demonstrated some assistive devices I was being sent home with to make it easier for me to function: Grabbers for picking up things like clothes & shoes and a different type for getting things out of cupboards, a very cool yet very simple device to help me put my socks on and a very sturdy, long shoe horn. My last visit was with the total joint replacement specialist RN who went over all the exercises I’d be doing at home for my physical therapy. The spinal has now worn off and I can pee. I am in my car and headed home at 4:00 pm.

I am on a drug regimen of 7 different medications. When I am finished with the antibiotics I start probiotics to help my gut recover. I stop the narcotic after 4 days because it is wreaking havoc with my gastrointestinal tract & lots of ice and the other drugs are seeming to manage my pain well. Interesting point: my insurance company would not approve 60 oxycodone and would only give me 45 tablets of which I used about 11. Gotta love the opioid epidemic! I get up about every hour during the day and walk 10 laps in my hallway & do my exercises twice daily. I seem to be sleeping OK despite having to sleep on my back. Before surgery I invested in one of those U-shaped body pillows and my sister sent me a knee pillow and these keep me pretty comfortable. The first 2 days I use a walker then switch to a cane. After the first week I am only using the cane outdoors or at night to get up to pee.

When I return for my 2 week post op check up I am averaging about 3000 steps/day. If I go too much over that my lower leg swells up. I am able to put my own socks on & tie my own shoes. (It’s a big deal after total hip! Shout out to all the 6 yr olds, it’s not as easy as you’d think!) My Physicians Assistant says I’m what they call “A good patient”. My ‘hippie support group’ declares me a rock star. I know that being in pretty good health & shape pre op gave me a ‘leg up’ (pun intended).

Don was ever by my side for 3 weeks. I know he was not thrilled when I got rid of the cane after a few days at home, started gardening (no bending or squatting), went down 13 stairs at home (oh wait, he didn’t know about that), insisted I could put on my own socks and shoes and wanted to go on ever increasing walks. True to form he has always supported me in all my decisions, even if he doesn’t necessarily agree with them. My other constant companion who insisted on lying on me continuously for the first 2 weeks post op and provided me with much comfort was one of my cats. (Not you, Wicked, you hateful bitch.) My boy Ozzy never left my side. In fact, he insisted on lying on my affected leg.

I am now 3 1/2 weeks post op. I can walk a little over 3 miles/day and my pace is improving at a steady rate. My biggest problems now are remembering that I can’t do certain things yet like cross my legs, kick my operated leg backwards or bend over/squat for prolonged periods. The constant pain I had in my hip is gone (my only discomfort is surgery related now) and my sciatica and lower back pain has disappeared. (I can only assume it was related to compensating for my bad hip.) I don’t know if my results are typical. I can only tell you my truth. My next check up is at 6 weeks post op and I’ll have (you guessed it!) another x-ray to see that everything is where & how it should be and at that point I should be cleared for the hot tub & pool! Down the road I’m thinking about learning to ride a bicycle again. (Do you ever forget? It’s been like 40 years.) I also have a date for a hike with my son, Eric. I told him to pick one with a great overview at the finish that makes me look like a badass but that’s not too hard. Happy trails to you!

Capital Weather Gang say it ain’t so, you seem to predict that we will get more snow! The only acceptable snow is Christmas snow. Immediately around the holidays it lends an air of festivity, gives Santa’s sled something to glide upon and provides a clean & pristine environment to foster those glad tidings. After that, it’s a total nuisance.

Snow needs to be moved so you can safely walk & drive. I can’t even imagine how I would feel if I actually had to move any of it (one of the few benefits of living in an all male household). Once you’re over the age of 10 the exuberance of sledding for 1 hour is outweighed by the work of having to pull off wet boots, socks, snow pants, jackets, scarves, mittens and hats then trudge with them down to the pegs on the wall above the woodstove so you can defrost them enough to be able to put them in the dryer. (Don’t think for a minute that my boys didn’t have to do this themselves as soon as they could safely negotiate the stairs with an armload of sopping outerwear.) They soon were able to do the cost/benefit analysis themselves which significantly decreased the in & out snow play sessions.

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When I was a kid living in a walk up tenement in The Bronx we would strip off the soaking snowsuits when they were so caked that you could no longer move. Then we would drape them over the old metal steam radiators that were under the stairway. We would sit on the windowsill waiting for those and our boots to dry up a bit. We would do that 2 or 3 times a day before returning home to our apartments. Rest assured my mother never inquired what the hell I was doing out in the snow for 6 hours and why I wasn’t frozen to death.

Then when my 4 boys were young we’d have to pull them, 2 to a sled down the street to the school where the ‘good’ sledding hill was located. The 2 older boys would perform death defying snow aerobatics (is that even a word?) while Don & I took turns pushing down then dragging up the sled containing the 2 little ones. (My back now hurts just thinking about this.) The day would come to it’s inevitable end when we would have to traipse the gang to the urgent care to have one of the elders sutured, casted or splinted. Fun times. It’s bad when you walk into Kaiser Permanente and the triage nurse greets you by saying, “Who is it this time Mrs. Russo?”

Of course before we could even get there we would have to scrape the snow & ice off the car then dig it out of the snowbank the plow left it in while staunching the blood flow (or immobilizing the body part) prior to transport of said snow day victim.

The moment the temperature outside dips below 50 degrees I have permanently chapped lips & skin so dry it would make an onion cry . This persists until the temps return to at least 70 for a solid week. I’ve tried every lip balm, ointment, stick, gloss, etc. and now swear by Dr. Bronner’s organic peppermint lip balm which I buy by the case when I can find it. (Not an endorsement but hey, Dr. Bronner, throw me a bone whydoncha?) These problems are only compounded by using the woodstove for supplemental heat as my poor heat pump has been in overdrive for the past couple of weeks.

As an attempt to relieve some of the dryness I am constantly refreshing the filtered water tank on my German engineered industrial air purifier/humidifier which I infuse with an assortment of essential oil blends to help bolster my mood or increase my energy or ward off evil depending on the situation. Lavender for sleep, peppermint for energy, frankincense & myrrh when I need me some religion (honestly, Madame Curie did less chemistry than I do).

Who can ignore the infernal darkness that sets in at 4:30 p.m. every day making me ready for bed by 7:00 p.m.? All the candle lighting hygge bullshit aside, this messes with my mojo the most. My therapy for this is not a light box. It’s carbs. Lots of them. Coldness and darkness makes me seek warmth which I find in my oven while baking delicious and delectable goodies as my 6 lb weight gain will support. The most light I’m getting is the sparks of static electricity I create from wearing all this merino wool!

But it’s all going to be O.K. Spring is coming. Lent is here and my liver is rejoicing as I begin my 40 day alcohol fast. I decided to renew it this year since last year I didn’t even entertain the thought. Don & I are now fully vaccinated against the ‘Rona so now I am once again thinking of travel. I’m planning an extended beach vacation this summer and creating packing lists and on line browsing for cabana wear brings me joy. (It’s not the same as wine but will have to do.) I long for the days I can grill poolside in my bathing suit again. Who am I kidding? You all know I don’t go near the grill. Until we thaw, stay safe and warm. (Texas friends, you’re in my prayers.)

September & October are busy months for my family. We have 4 birthdays in September & 1 wedding anniversary. In October we have 3 birthdays and 1 anniversary. Due to Covid, we have been denied our family Spring Break trip, our beach trip & our annual pilgrimages to the Maryland Renaissance Festival and Maryland Seafood Festival. Something has to give!

I’ve always felt like I live in a three ring circus. Don decided we would throw a big birthday bash in honor of my landmark ‘social security’ milestone & our Autumn birthday boys. We would host a family carnival!

Don was a masterful Ring Master & along with Eric concocted loads of carnival fun. You would be rewarded with tickets for successful completion of carnival games and prizes would be awarded at the end of the evening. All set to begin on Saturday, September 12th. Time’s a wasting so let’s get set up!

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The day dawned dreary but there was promise of some clearing in the afternoon. Determined to not let the rain dampen our spirits, we began with an indoor game of “Bean Boozled”. This is where you blindly select a jellybean to eat. The flavor may be a delicious one, like “chocolate pudding or a horrible one, like “canned dog food”. To collect a ticket you must chew and swallow your selected jellybean. If you’re lucky you pick “peach” instead of “puke”.

The rain fizzled down to a spritz and we donned bathing suits, rain slickers and headed outside to our next event. Here you had 3 chances to bust balloons with a dart. We played 3 rounds.

The years of degenerate bar dart league play that Don & I participated in at JP’s Pub in the Bronx payed off well for us. Next we moved onto the ring toss.

When you consider that Mike, Dan, Zachary, Damian, Steve & Don all played football expectations were high that they would shut us all down when it came to throwing a football through a moving target.

Steve played quarterback in his youth but his rustiness showed as Damian won by tossing 2 out of 4 through the tire! Natalie came in as a serious underdog but managed to get one through also. This took us to the axe throwing competition.

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We were making fun of Steve for his unorthodox underhand throw while holding the axe blade instead of the handle but he had the last laugh as his blade thunked into the tree trunk. He spouted some science nonsense about weight and rotation blah, blah, blah.

Moving along to the bean bag toss allowed me to show off some of my skills acquired from playing corn hole at picnics, drive-ins, beaches and backyard barbecues. I racked up most of my tickets on this event.

Originally, Don proposed a bb gun shooting gallery but I protested that it would give Damian an unfair advantage as the kid can hit a garden digging squirrel right between the eyes at 200 paces (not that I condone that sort of thing – don’t send me any PETA letters.) Modifications were made for Nerf guns & cans. However many you knock off the table is how many tickets you score. Let’s just say the country dwelling Russos had it over those Reston & Raleigh city slickers.

Meanwhile, Don had been cooking up some serious carnival fare (get it, not ‘fair’ but ‘fare’ like in food. Oh forget it!) and the revelers were getting hungry.

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It was time for the main event – the jousting competition! We selected numbers from a bowl to pair off. The first competition would be Steve vs Mike.

Our second match resulted in a forfeit as we had to physically restrain Kim. After knocking her youngest child off the podium so hard that he fell into the horse field, she hurdled the fence and continued to chase & beat him. (Anyone who knows Kim realizes that I am bold-faced lying here.)

The worst draw of the day was done by Natalie, who had to face off with Eric. Before Natalie ascended her podium, Eric goes into the crane stance from Karate Kid, leaps from his podium and does a front flip onto Natalie’s unoccupied podium sticking the landing (I gave it a 5.8). She smartly blindsided him in the back of the head while he was bowing for applause.

Once the scheduled matches for tickets were completed things quickly went downhill as we entered the open warfare ‘challenges’.

After a good long while of beating each other into submission the boys began using the arena for wrestling practice. Finally, when all were sufficiently exhausted we trudged back into the house for the ticket tally.

And the winner, with the most tickets for the day was:

First place prize went to Eric. We had filled envelopes numbered 1 – 10 with varying amounts of lottery scratch tickets with the most valuable ticket being for 1st place then decreasing in value down to 10th place. We then worked up from 10th place with scratching off our tickets to see if we won a prize. Kim was holding strong at $10 but in true winner take all fashion, Eric walked away with the big prize of the day – $27.00 (If truth be told, I felt like we were all winners because of the amazing memories we made this day together.)

I like to make pancakes. They were the first item that I learned how to fix on my own. I was 15 yrs old and a nanny to 3 young boys. One day their mom turned her head toward me as she was running out the door to work and told me to make some pancakes for the kids’ breakfast. She indicated that the mix was in the cabinet. My eyes widened and I whispered that I had never made pancakes before and she responded, “Sue, follow the directions on the box. It’s pancakes, for Crissake!” (My tales as a Mafia babysitter will have to wait for another time.)

Many years later, as mother to 4 young boys, I liked to look to that experience as a training exercise. Flour, baking powder and a few other frugal pantry staples allowed me to keep the ravenous hoards satisfied at least for a couple of hours. My pancake prowess was legendary at that time and I would make Mickey Mouse pancakes by pouring batter into 3 tangential circles: 1 large and 2 smaller. Years later, when my grown sons had hankerings for pancakes they would call to ask why mine always tasted better (vanilla extract and 3 tbs of sugar) and always looked perfect (ice cream scooper).

To this day when we had our pre-pandemic large family gatherings my pancakes were always a staple on the breakfast table. (First come, first served, no saving – they know the rules.) Warm, sweet, comforting and filling they hearken back to simpler times and a menu that never elicited whining and complaints. Everyone loved pancakes.

This is my first attempt at writing something since sheltering in place. I knew I should be chronicling life in lock down but the words just would not come. Maybe it was the desire. The desire just wasn’t there. Fear, frustration, fun, facts, fiction, fantasy were a constant broth simmering in my psyche. Physically I am OK. I started out making a new normal include walking 2 miles outside each day. That has waned into, “maybe if I feel like it.” I fully dressed each morning before embarking on working at home remotely but now I often start before 7 a.m. and am in pajamas and a robe. I was largely abstaining from alcohol fearful I would emerge not only fatter but maudlin. Now a glass or 2 of wine or a Cosmo some days are fine. I try to continue to work on my meditation practice which gives me peace, I garden and give love to my plants, I am grateful and appreciative of my circumstances and most blessed that I have not lost anyone to this plague. Finally, living on top of the mountain has it’s perks!

Don and I have considered these past 2 months a ‘trial retirement’. So far we can still stand each other so I would consider it successful. His self discipline astonishes as he maintains a regimen of exercise and activity that exhausts me when I just think about it. Add to that he is preparing 3 meals a day now all of which rival restaurant quality. He has actually lost weight while being exposed to Damian’s boredom binges of Ramen and entire boxes of peanut butter chocolate granola bars.

Emotionally, well . . let’s say there are good days and not as good days. I have a really hard time trying to understand the politicization of a pandemic and science doubters. I can only give energy to the things that are within my direct control and hope that I position myself to thrive and help those with whom I have direct contact to thrive as well. Travel blogging has long been a creative outlet but what do you write about when you can’t travel? Today, I made pancakes.

As the Washington Nationals drew closer to the reality of their first ever World Series appearance Don and I began to toy with the “What ifs?”

Like, “What if it’s the Yankees and the Nats in the World Series?” “How cool would that be to attend?” For us die hard Yankees fans who happen to love the Nats as our National League team it would be the dream series. We would not be upset either way. We started to speculate on how we could make the cut.

There’s only one small problem with this plan.

OK, so it won’t be the Yankees vs Nats. That makes it easier for us to root for the home team. So now Operation Nats Tickets goes live. We assemble our crack team of operatives and are able to make a connection with our Deep Throat.

The mission is a complete success.

Unfortunately, the home team continues to underperform and the behind the plate officiating is less than adequate for this level of competition.

Despite the loss, the atmosphere was amazing, the weather unbelievable for late October and a good time was had by all.

Well, maybe not all of our gang had a good time. One of our illustrious crew sat in his seat before the first pitch was thrown and while sitting a woman came up to him and started taking photos of his seat. He looked at her and she explained that her husband had recently passed away and he was a season ticket holder and that was his seat. Our friend was sympathetic but nonetheless a little creeped out. That only worsened when at the conclusion of the game the same woman came over and while he was standing waiting to exit his row she began to sprinkle an ash-like substance on the seat. She then leaned over the railing and dumped some of the same substance onto the playing field.

Hey, if they win the next game I will be at Ye Olde Crematorium scraping the retort and flying a small envelope to Houston.

Happy Halloween & Go Nats!

(Totally a true story)