Trouble

 

          Our troubles, like most troubles, didn’t happen because of just one thing. Troubles can sometimes be traced back to a lot of little things culminating into one big thing. And that’s what happened to us.

          This last time that we were enlarging the dog run, I saw the old ten-by-ten kennel sitting out there on the concrete, serving no purpose whatsoever. I did try to have a garden there once but soon found out gardening was not my jam.

          In this picture, in the upper left corner, you can see the old kennel-garden out beyond the dog run.

          “Peg, I can’t get past that pretty girl sitting there!” you say.

          I know, right! And that was the reason for the picture to begin with.

          Anyway, when we were making the dog run bigger, I said, “We should take that old kennel apart and use it to make the run even bigger!”

Mike vetoed that idea. The chain was one piece and we didn’t have any pipe connecters other than the curved pieces.

          That was one thing.

          I didn’t know I was planting seeds.

          Since then, Mike has made a couple of comments about wanting to make the front bigger so the girls can see the front of the house.

          I knew he didn’t want to fool with our old kennel so I said, “Watch Facebook Marketplace. They always have fencing for sale.”

          Weeks pass.

          “I can’t find any rhubarb this year,” my Miss Rosie said. “A neighbor used to give me all I wanted until she went into the nursing home.”

          My sister Phyllis grows beautiful rhubarb. I thought I’d surprise Miss Rosie with a bunch of Minnesota rhubarb. I’m always sending Phyllis stuff, in fact, I had a goody box in the works. I bet she wouldn’t mind sending me a bunch of rhubarb, I thought and called her.

          “I absolutely will,” she said.

          Imagine my surprise, when a few a days later, I get a text from Phyllis saying my rhubarb was in the mail. I didn’t think her rhubarb would be ready for a few more weeks.

          Now, imagine my surprise — SURPRISE! — when I open the box and find eight little rhubarb plants. I laughed.

          “Give a man rhubarb and he eats for a day. Give him rhubarb plants and he’ll eat for years!” I told Mike.

          I walked around the yard looking for a place to plant them. Our old mill was the site of a couple of old businesses and our ground has been filled, graveled, driven on, and packed down tight. Not exactly conducive to growing plants. And it has to be where Mike doesn’t have to mow around it.

          My eyes settle on my old, raised garden box. It was good soil in full sun. That’s where I decided to plant them.

          I went to work pulling all the old weeds — no, they’re not weeds. Not really. Last year the box was full of a wildflower called Fleabane daisy; there was a new crop coming up this year.

          I was pulling wildflower weeds and adding new soil when Mike wandered up.

          “You want to put the box inside the dog run?” he asked.

          I liked his idea. “It would be easier for me to take care of there.”

          Mike lifted one end and I took the blocks out. We manhandled it around and used a piece of log as a roller and rolled it through the gate.

          “It might be easier if we took it apart,” I suggested.

          “Nah. I’ll get the tractor and a chain.”

          We found the balance point and I walked along guiding it.

          “You can’t get it over the fence,” I said. “The tractor won’t lift it high enough.”

          “I’m not going over,” Mike said. “I’m going through the gate.”

          Slick as a whistle, Mike put the box through the gate and I planted my rhubarb.

           I didn’t know that while I was working, Mike’s mind was working, too.

          “You know, Peg. We could move the old kennel over here, and I could take out this panel, and this panel, and maybe that one, too, and use them around front.”

          Mike paced off both fences to see how it would best fit.

          Then we had to clean out the old buckets I’d used for my tomato plants several years ago.

          “Let’s empty the buckets and I’ll get rid of the dirt,” Mike said.

          Every time we tried to pick up a bucket, it just crumbled.

          “Whoever said it’s a good idea to use buckets for gardening is wrong!” I whined, picking up little pieces of broken bucket. It might be good for short term but in the long run all you end up with is buckets you have to get rid of.

          Mike and I tried to manhandle the kennel but it was too heavy. He tried using the tractor and bent a pipe.

          “Go in the wayback and get the furniture dolly that’s back there,” Mike said. “I’ll go down to the barn and get that one.”

          We used the creeper for a third corner and Mike steered the train with a hand truck while I pushed.

          Slick as a whistle we pushed the kennel across the yard and into the place where we’d removed three panels.     

          To maximize the longest distance, Mike parked it at an angle with the gate on the inside. I had a fence inside a fence.

          I don’t know how I managed to hold my tongue, but I did. I wasn’t happy about a fence inside a fence, but I thought I could decorate it, or grow vines up the sides, or do something really cute with it.

          “You know, Peg, I could get the saw and cut the pipe on the corner and we could open it up.”

          I jumped on that idea. “What do I need to go get?”

          Mike cut the fence and we opened it up even bigger than Mike had planned.

          I was happy.

          We moved a couple of planter boxes around and now I have places in full sun to plant flowers and rhubarb and Mike doesn’t have to mow around them.

          We took the other panels up front and extended the fence to give the girls a wider view of the front of the house.

          Here’s a before and after shot.

      

          A day or so later we realized the back gate wasn’t working right. Part of the fence was leaning, causing the gate to not close once you opened it. We adjusted the gate to compensate and when we left, it was working just fine.

The next day the gate was messed up again.

We adjusted it again.

Nothing like doing a job twice!

The third time it was out of whack, I was frustrated. “We have to figure out what’s slipping.”

“I think we have to straighten the fence,” Mike said and went for the tractor. He pushed the bottom of the fence straightening it up and voila! No more gate problems.

Mike tightened the gate bolts and just to make sure it was good and tight he gave one bolt an extra big pull. That’s when his shoulder popped.

“You better put ice on it,” I told him.

It was starting to feel better and the next day when he went down to the barn, there was a rock on the concrete. He picked it up and tossed it — with his bad arm — and it popped again.

It was a really bad time to hurt himself. We had two parties to go to that day.

The first one was a surprise anniversary party thrown for my beautiful friend Jody by her husband Michael. I didn’t know how he was going to pull off a surprise party but he did, and spectacularly too!

Michael and Jody went up to their get-away cabin for the weekend. They were due to come back to their house at 12:30 where we were all waiting. Mike went around and helped a blindfolded Jody out of the truck. He led her to the yard and told her she could take off her blindfold now. Jody was so surprised to see this gathering of family and friends and shed more than a few tears.

“How did he get her to wear a blindfold?” you ask.

I know, right! I wanted to know, too. Lucky for me, my Mike asked.

“He said he’d arranged for a surprise to be delivered and in order for her to get the full affect, he wanted her to be right in front of it before she saw it.”

Such a clever idea.

I took a bunch of pictures.

Mike’s shoulder continued to hurt but he toughed it out until we left the party. We had about an hour before we needed to head out to the next party. Just enough time to ice Mike’s shoulder and for him to get a nap.

The next party was for this little cutie patootie. Anna, posing here with the Kipps, graduated high school and will be heading out for Army basic training.

“Peg, my shoulder really hurts,” Mike said after he pulled me aside.

“If you wanna go home, I can get a ride with the Kipps,” I said.

Mike left and I took more pictures for Anna’s memory book.

Of all the pictures I took that day, these two are my favorite.

Most kids don’t have all the hangups about having their picture taken that adults do, so they’re more relaxed and natural and the pictures are better.

The younger girl in this picture asked if I’d take a picture of her with her sister.

          “Yeah,” I agreed.

          It took her about ten minutes to round up her sister and get her over for a picture. After a few clicks, I got this shot and I just love it.

After I got home, I could see how much pain Mike was in.

“Do you want to go to the ER?”

“We’d have to go the whole way to Sayre,” Mike said.

“How about the Urgent Care then?”

“No.”

We put ice on it.

It didn’t help.

We put heat on it.

That didn’t help either.

We had some leftover prescription pain pills from Mike’s hernia operation and I was surprised when he asked for one. Mike doesn’t like taking Oxycodone because of all the stories you hear of people becoming addicted to them. He was hurting so bad after his hernia operation that he gladly took them — but only until he could get along without them. That’s why we had leftovers. When he asked for one, I knew he was really in a lot of pain.

“Let’s go to the ER,” I said.

“No,” Mike said again. He has a pretty high pain tolerance having had back problems all his life. For him to be crying like he was, he had to be suffering.

“I’m not going to the ER,” Mike said.

Mike wasn’t getting any relief from anything we tried and even a second Oxy didn’t knock the pain down to where he could tolerate it. About eight-ish Mike relented.

“Peg, why don’t you see if the Urgent Care is open?”

Before I called Urgent Care, I called the hospital in Towanda.

“Do you take walk-ins?” I asked.

“We’re an ER,” the confused receptionist said.

“I know but the one at Tyler Memorial closed. I wanted to make sure you were still accepting patients.”

“Yep. We’re here.”

I’d already put my jammies on, so I changed and we left.

It was starting to get dark but I took this picture of the sunset over the Susquehanna at the Narrows, just before you drop down into Wysox.

It’s hard to believe the second picture is lighter than the first. It just depends on what my camera focuses on.

 A lot of people around here grumble about the care they get at this hospital but all three times I’ve ever been there, I left with no complaints. We didn’t have to wait overly long. The staff was polite, attentive, and knowledgeable.

After the X-ray was read by the radiologist, the doctor came back and said Mike had a fracture of the greater tuberosity of the right humerus. He put a shot directly into Mike’s shoulder and was surprised the numbing agent hadn’t started working even before he pulled the needle out. It didn’t. In fact, the pain increased. About ten minutes later, Mike could feel it lessening. They gave him a sling, a prescription for Percocet, and told him to see his family doctor in four days.

I have more stories.

I have more pictures.

If I had more time, I could flesh this out to a twenty-pager but I don’t, so I won’t. I just wanted to give you the briefest story on Mike’s shoulder injury. Everything else can wait until next time.

Let’s call this one done!