I had my six-week followup appointment with Dr. Cheng today, and he gave me the all clear. His exact words were that the improvement in strength in my right foot was "encouraging." I have another appointment in six more weeks, but I am free to cancel it if I have no complications. This is great news given the initial forecast was on the cloudy side. Dr. Cheng is a nice guy, but I hope I never see him again.
An interesting side effect of my surgery is that, for the first time, I've hit my out-of-pocket maximum on my insurance. Funny, I always assumed it would be Rhonda.
Now that I am back at work, it's increasingly more difficult to stay in shape. Work, coupled with hot weather, makes it so if I don't go for a walk first thing in the morning, I won't feel like doing it later. Plus, my stamina is increased so it takes a lot longer to squeeze in a walk, or I need to break it up. Luckily, I have been compensating for that by keeping busy around the house, and helping Rhonda move classrooms.
I'm working on a couple of other things. I'm on week two of the One Hundred Pushups challenge. I would be on week three if not for last week's fiasco severely derailing my life. I'm also planning to sign up for a distance walk/run in September. Possibly this one.
I'm having some mixed results in my quest to lose weight and take strain off my discs. The bad news is I've gained about 4.5 pounds since the surgery. The good news is my body fat percentage is down. My Tanita scale can be a bit flaky, but what it is telling me, on average, is that I was around 200 pounds with 30% body fat (stop laughing) before the surgery. Now I am weighing in around 204.5 pounds, but at 27.5% body fat. I've lost almost four pounds of fat, so if you do the math, I've gained 8.5 pounds of muscle.
And that's without dietary changes. In fact, with all the recent drama, I've eaten a lot of McNuggets this month. As I slowly get into more of a routine, including getting to the grocery store with a list, we should both start eating better.
So aside from a lengthy recovery for the nerves in my right foot and some high cholesterol, things are looking up for me healthwise probably for the first time since I put down the controller and started playing baseball in middle school. It appears my thirties are all about repairing the mistakes, health-related and financial, that I made in my teens and twenties. Here goes nothing.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Garlicgate: Part 2
So we had reached an all-time low. We had already discussed that Rhonda would rather wait for her release than go back to work. She would rather be unemployed. In a recession.
That's when I told her my idea.
I had done some reading on the internet - because what else can you do, when your wife is a complete wreck and all you can do is hold her? I told her we should e-mail the superintendent. Because when you can't get something you need, the first thing you do is ask to see a supervisor.
I composed a masterful e-mail to the superintendent, copying the union rep and president. I outlined all the reasons Rhonda needed to be close to home, especially her health issues (and now, mine). I talked about how it would be hypocritical to let Rhonda's former principal out of her contract and not let Rhonda out of hers. And I ripped Rhonda's principal for dragging his feet on hiring a replacement. I told how they said it would take a week, even though they had capable personnel on campus. I emphasized Rhonda's working relationship with her principal was irreparably damaged. I hit "send" at 11:45.
The union really got behind Rhonda at this point. I don't think they had all the information on the severity of her health problems or the situation at the school, and now they were armed with all they needed.
Also, I didn't even get into how Rhonda's principal has turned this into a petty, personal display of power. One of the things he did last year was try to get Rhonda to work on something in violation of union rules, pitting her against her own colleagues. Rhonda got out of that, but learned he was not to be trusted. All this week, he was ratcheting up the pressure, probably hoping she would crack and return to work. After all, she is very good at her job.
So it was no surprise when, a couple hours later, he called Rhonda and threatened her with "repercussions" if she didn't come to work on the first day. He even called her "Miss," which, if I'd have heard that, I would've told her to file sexual harassment charges.
But he had obviously misread Rhonda. As anyone who has known her for a long time is aware, Rhonda is stubborn as a mule, and only becomes more determined when she feels wronged. And it became obvious to us that the superintendent had read our letter and was trying to find out what the hell was going on at her school.
Less than five minutes later, another call, this time from their HR director also telling Rhonda, in a threatening tone, to be at work Thursday. At this point, Rhonda was so upset she threw up. It took a second for me to realize she was having an asthma attack. She got a call from the union president while I searched for her inhaler. The union president was on her way to the school. It was 3:00.
After she could breathe again, I was worried so I told Rhonda that since she needed allergy shots, we would ask the allergy nurses to check her blood pressure and possibly ask for a doctor's note to excuse her from work. Then we would go get the stuff she needed at Staples in case she had to work Thursday.
We drove down there and they wouldn't give her her shots because of the asthma. They took her in the back though, so they could take her blood pressure. I sat nervously in the waiting area. We hadn't eaten all day.
At 3:45, while getting her blood pressure taken, she got the call: she had been released from her contract.
I gave her a big kiss and a hug on the way out (her BP: 138/96). No more need to go to Staples, but I was starving, and we were going to celebrate by getting some Yumi Yogurt. I wanted to get McDonald's first. No less than 10 minutes later, we were in the McDonald's parking lot on Saratoga and Stevens Creek when she got the call from the jubilant San Jose HR director: "I don't know how you did it."
By 4, I was eating McNuggets in the district office parking lot while Rhonda was upstairs inking her contract with San Jose Unified. Seven hours before we were dead in the water, and I was wondering if we could make it a year on one income. Seven hours was all it took for a comeback of Jason Lezak proportions.
If you've read this far, thanks. I know it's verbose, but this was an epic. This was, by far, the biggest trial by fire we've had to face since Rhonda's dad passed away. And for us to battle through it, to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, all the while relying on prayers and well-wishes from friends and family to keep us going, made the way this turned out all the more sweeter.
(Some people will say you shouldn't break a contract, but those people don't teach in California. You sign one-year contracts in May. You can break them before June 30, but schools don't hire until their budgets are set, or until they know how many students they have. That's in August. Some teachers are hired around the end of the school year, but usually within their own districts. People break contracts all the time in August - retiring teachers wait so they can have benefits through the summer. If you ever want a new job, you need to break your contract or get released, plain and simple. It's an insane system. Districts rarely resort to the strong-arm tactics we were subjected to.)
Rhonda went to her new school today, where she was greeted with hugs and warm welcomes. She is genuinely excited about work for the first time in years. Just a couple days ago, she was so fed up she was considering never teaching again. I'm just glad my wife is happy, and we can move on with the rest of our lives.
That's when I told her my idea.
I had done some reading on the internet - because what else can you do, when your wife is a complete wreck and all you can do is hold her? I told her we should e-mail the superintendent. Because when you can't get something you need, the first thing you do is ask to see a supervisor.
I composed a masterful e-mail to the superintendent, copying the union rep and president. I outlined all the reasons Rhonda needed to be close to home, especially her health issues (and now, mine). I talked about how it would be hypocritical to let Rhonda's former principal out of her contract and not let Rhonda out of hers. And I ripped Rhonda's principal for dragging his feet on hiring a replacement. I told how they said it would take a week, even though they had capable personnel on campus. I emphasized Rhonda's working relationship with her principal was irreparably damaged. I hit "send" at 11:45.
The union really got behind Rhonda at this point. I don't think they had all the information on the severity of her health problems or the situation at the school, and now they were armed with all they needed.
Also, I didn't even get into how Rhonda's principal has turned this into a petty, personal display of power. One of the things he did last year was try to get Rhonda to work on something in violation of union rules, pitting her against her own colleagues. Rhonda got out of that, but learned he was not to be trusted. All this week, he was ratcheting up the pressure, probably hoping she would crack and return to work. After all, she is very good at her job.
So it was no surprise when, a couple hours later, he called Rhonda and threatened her with "repercussions" if she didn't come to work on the first day. He even called her "Miss," which, if I'd have heard that, I would've told her to file sexual harassment charges.
But he had obviously misread Rhonda. As anyone who has known her for a long time is aware, Rhonda is stubborn as a mule, and only becomes more determined when she feels wronged. And it became obvious to us that the superintendent had read our letter and was trying to find out what the hell was going on at her school.
Less than five minutes later, another call, this time from their HR director also telling Rhonda, in a threatening tone, to be at work Thursday. At this point, Rhonda was so upset she threw up. It took a second for me to realize she was having an asthma attack. She got a call from the union president while I searched for her inhaler. The union president was on her way to the school. It was 3:00.
After she could breathe again, I was worried so I told Rhonda that since she needed allergy shots, we would ask the allergy nurses to check her blood pressure and possibly ask for a doctor's note to excuse her from work. Then we would go get the stuff she needed at Staples in case she had to work Thursday.
We drove down there and they wouldn't give her her shots because of the asthma. They took her in the back though, so they could take her blood pressure. I sat nervously in the waiting area. We hadn't eaten all day.
At 3:45, while getting her blood pressure taken, she got the call: she had been released from her contract.
I gave her a big kiss and a hug on the way out (her BP: 138/96). No more need to go to Staples, but I was starving, and we were going to celebrate by getting some Yumi Yogurt. I wanted to get McDonald's first. No less than 10 minutes later, we were in the McDonald's parking lot on Saratoga and Stevens Creek when she got the call from the jubilant San Jose HR director: "I don't know how you did it."
By 4, I was eating McNuggets in the district office parking lot while Rhonda was upstairs inking her contract with San Jose Unified. Seven hours before we were dead in the water, and I was wondering if we could make it a year on one income. Seven hours was all it took for a comeback of Jason Lezak proportions.
If you've read this far, thanks. I know it's verbose, but this was an epic. This was, by far, the biggest trial by fire we've had to face since Rhonda's dad passed away. And for us to battle through it, to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, all the while relying on prayers and well-wishes from friends and family to keep us going, made the way this turned out all the more sweeter.
(Some people will say you shouldn't break a contract, but those people don't teach in California. You sign one-year contracts in May. You can break them before June 30, but schools don't hire until their budgets are set, or until they know how many students they have. That's in August. Some teachers are hired around the end of the school year, but usually within their own districts. People break contracts all the time in August - retiring teachers wait so they can have benefits through the summer. If you ever want a new job, you need to break your contract or get released, plain and simple. It's an insane system. Districts rarely resort to the strong-arm tactics we were subjected to.)
Rhonda went to her new school today, where she was greeted with hugs and warm welcomes. She is genuinely excited about work for the first time in years. Just a couple days ago, she was so fed up she was considering never teaching again. I'm just glad my wife is happy, and we can move on with the rest of our lives.
Garlicgate: Part 1
Seven hours. Seven hours is all it took. But I'm getting ahead of myself. This is a long tale of epic win.
My wife, Rhonda, taught kindergarten the last two years in a neighboring city. I won't name the city or district, but I will say it is famous for garlic. Ahem. She took the job there because she (admittedly) blew it on her job search a couple years ago. Her health issues (allergy to garlic amongst them), a lengthy commute, difficult colleagues - all these meant she has been looking for work closer to home ever since.
Last spring, a principal from Santa Clara wanted to interview Rhonda for a position. Her principal told them she was under contract, even though she hadn't signed one yet for the upcoming year. The same principal broke her contract in August and took a job in another district.
No thanks to our governor (or our president, for that matter, for sinking the economy), there weren't many opportunities this June. Most people were losing jobs, not getting them. Rhonda had several interviews, including a couple of good ones at San Jose Unified, but no offers.
Rhonda had pretty much resigned herself to another year at Garlicville, and was considering a career change because she was so unhappy. Then, like a white night, San Jose came calling again last week. After a couple of whirlwind interviews, the good news came on Friday. Rhonda had been offered a position.
We were, of course, very happy. Sunday we made the pilgrimage out to Rhonda's room to clean it out. That's when it all went to hell.
Rhonda was warned by a colleague that her district had, in the past, refused to release teachers from contracts and had even gone through the trouble of revoking credentials. Rhonda spoke to the union president and she confirmed that was a possibility.
Monday, Rhonda was supposed to go to new teacher orientation. However, since she hadn't been released, she was ordered to go to her old school. She stopped by the house on the way to sob uncontrollably because she was too upset to drive.
At the school, Rhonda had to wait until lunchtime to speak to her principal. He told her she would not be released from her contract. Her gave her room keys. Her team was supportive, and they talked about options for replacing Rhonda. One of the new kinder teachers was a long-term sub, and she wanted Rhonda's job. A long-term sub for one of the other teachers was unemployed. They had just interviewed a bunch of candidates.
The head of human resources at Rhonda's old district told her she would be released when a replacement was found. Rhonda frantically tried to get a hold of San Jose HR and her new principal. Her new principal told her she wasn't sure how long she could hold the position, since school starts next Tuesday. Rhonda went through a lot of Kleenex. Neither of us were eating much or at regular intervals.
Tuesday, there was some good news to open the day. Rhonda got a call from the director of San Jose HR. She said to report to work, but that she would be talking to Rhonda's old district, and to Rhonda's new principal to make sure she held the job a little longer. She had once been in Rhonda's old district, so she knew what we were up against.
Lots of nothing happened Tuesday. We began to wonder what was taking so long. Communication was spotty. Uncertainty was wearing us down. Rhonda talked extensively to her union rep, who was supportive. Rhonda said goodbye to her team, hoping it was the last time she would see them.
Wednesday was the day before the first day at the old school. Rhonda stayed home rather than drive and had the union rep fax her the class list. She got a call from San Jose and it was not good news. She had not been released yet, and there was nothing the San Jose director could do. She would try to convince the new principal to hold the job, maybe get a sub for a couple days, to buy time until Rhonda was released. But no promises. It was 8:30 AM.
My wife, Rhonda, taught kindergarten the last two years in a neighboring city. I won't name the city or district, but I will say it is famous for garlic. Ahem. She took the job there because she (admittedly) blew it on her job search a couple years ago. Her health issues (allergy to garlic amongst them), a lengthy commute, difficult colleagues - all these meant she has been looking for work closer to home ever since.
Last spring, a principal from Santa Clara wanted to interview Rhonda for a position. Her principal told them she was under contract, even though she hadn't signed one yet for the upcoming year. The same principal broke her contract in August and took a job in another district.
No thanks to our governor (or our president, for that matter, for sinking the economy), there weren't many opportunities this June. Most people were losing jobs, not getting them. Rhonda had several interviews, including a couple of good ones at San Jose Unified, but no offers.
Rhonda had pretty much resigned herself to another year at Garlicville, and was considering a career change because she was so unhappy. Then, like a white night, San Jose came calling again last week. After a couple of whirlwind interviews, the good news came on Friday. Rhonda had been offered a position.
We were, of course, very happy. Sunday we made the pilgrimage out to Rhonda's room to clean it out. That's when it all went to hell.
Rhonda was warned by a colleague that her district had, in the past, refused to release teachers from contracts and had even gone through the trouble of revoking credentials. Rhonda spoke to the union president and she confirmed that was a possibility.
Monday, Rhonda was supposed to go to new teacher orientation. However, since she hadn't been released, she was ordered to go to her old school. She stopped by the house on the way to sob uncontrollably because she was too upset to drive.
At the school, Rhonda had to wait until lunchtime to speak to her principal. He told her she would not be released from her contract. Her gave her room keys. Her team was supportive, and they talked about options for replacing Rhonda. One of the new kinder teachers was a long-term sub, and she wanted Rhonda's job. A long-term sub for one of the other teachers was unemployed. They had just interviewed a bunch of candidates.
The head of human resources at Rhonda's old district told her she would be released when a replacement was found. Rhonda frantically tried to get a hold of San Jose HR and her new principal. Her new principal told her she wasn't sure how long she could hold the position, since school starts next Tuesday. Rhonda went through a lot of Kleenex. Neither of us were eating much or at regular intervals.
Tuesday, there was some good news to open the day. Rhonda got a call from the director of San Jose HR. She said to report to work, but that she would be talking to Rhonda's old district, and to Rhonda's new principal to make sure she held the job a little longer. She had once been in Rhonda's old district, so she knew what we were up against.
Lots of nothing happened Tuesday. We began to wonder what was taking so long. Communication was spotty. Uncertainty was wearing us down. Rhonda talked extensively to her union rep, who was supportive. Rhonda said goodbye to her team, hoping it was the last time she would see them.
Wednesday was the day before the first day at the old school. Rhonda stayed home rather than drive and had the union rep fax her the class list. She got a call from San Jose and it was not good news. She had not been released yet, and there was nothing the San Jose director could do. She would try to convince the new principal to hold the job, maybe get a sub for a couple days, to buy time until Rhonda was released. But no promises. It was 8:30 AM.
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