Snow, Getting Married, and Pneumothorax

A blog friend of mine mentioned she was getting snow. Snow, four little letters that spell fear, at least for me. I lived in the Ozarks, the land of hills and hollows and snow meant treacherous roads. Ever since I hit another truck head on my fear of snow has only increased. Snow covered roads meant walking ½ sometimes ¾th miles to my car. If the plows came and cleared off the first road then I only walked ½ mile, uphill on a long and winding road. If the weather man reported deeper snow I would park my car ¾ miles from my house on a better stretch of road. I would have to walk ¾ miles up two hills to get to my car so I could work. I hated walking up those hills. I tried to focus on the beautiful landscape or sang silly little ditties to take my mind off the fact that I was freezing to death but it didn’t work. I wore a stocking cap, mittens, a heavy coat and when I took off my hat the static electricity would create a hair do that nothing could tame. I looked like a wild woman when I went to work. When it would snow while at I was at work I would get the hell out of there immediately. I would put in my request for leave, jump in the car, and if I wasn’t stocked up on groceries I would stop at the store. I left a laundry basket in the car during the winter months so I could put my groceries in it. Then I would tie a piece of rope on the laundry basket and drag it while I walked home. This only worked when there was snow on the ground. I remember one time I loaded up the laundry basket and started the trek down the road. The laundry basket must have hit a patch of ice the same time I did because I took a tumble and the laundry basket full of groceries went whizzing by me. I laid there and watch my groceries take the curve of the road and disappeared. I walked down the hill thinking I would see my groceries scattered to and fro but to my surprise there at the bottom of the hill was my laundry basket, still full, and not one thing fell out of it. Someone smiled on me that day. I grabbed the rope and trudge home feeling a little bit warmer thinking about that smile.

Hannah, I know you do numerology the old fashion way but I found a web site that will do it for you. I have to agree with your results though because this one forecasted marriage when I am in my fifties. I do not see that happening. It is fun though and if you want to play with it go to Numerology

Since all of my children are reading my blog now I will explain by copy and paste what is going on with James/Rusty which is, for those that don’t know, my first born.

What is a pneumothorax?

A collapsed lung (pneumothorax) results from a buildup of air in the space between the lung and the chest wall (pleural space). As the amount of air in this space increases, the pressure against the lung causes the lung to collapse. This prevents your lung from expanding properly when you try to breathe in, causing shortness of breath and chest pain.

A pneumothorax may become life-threatening if the pressure in your chest prevents the lungs from getting enough oxygen into the blood.

What causes a pneumothorax?

A pneumothorax is usually caused by an injury to the chest, such as a broken rib or puncture wound. It may also occur suddenly without an injury (spontaneous pneumothorax).

Spontaneous pneumothorax can occur in people who don't have lung disease. This happens when an air-filled blister (bleb) on the lung ruptures and releases air into the pleural space. It is very common in tall, thin, men.

His surgery is scheduled for the first week in November. Hopefully he will be back at work on the 15th. Until then he is a stay at home dad.