New Friends...

We were happy to learn that our good friend Lauren Figge hadn’t popped yet with Baby Figge. Although she wasn't thrilled about being over a week overdue, I just loved seeing this petite little thing with her big fat belly. Being a good patient, she knew that taking long walks would help to push things along; not sure her midwife had a nude 5K in mind, but she was quite the hit at one just before we arrived in town. Lucky for us, she popped while we were there, and we got to meet Coen at the hospital. Since Jason is Dutch, the girls enjoyed picking out gifts in Holland to bring along.
Congrats Lauren & Jason.

Reconnecting with Old Friends...

Our first stop on our whirlwind tour to reconnect with our lives in America was to spend 12 days in Raleigh. We were thrilled to get to stay with the Sparanos, who were nice enough not only to put us up and put up with us now, but also before we moved back in November 2005. After 20 months away, I was a little worried about reverse culture shock, but felt that I just picked up where I left off. Between the Harriette’s Book Club being nice enough to schedule their discussion during my visit (although I’m in two book clubs in Holland, nothing compares to this wonderful group) to Cummins and Kathy hosting a dinner party for Jimmy’s old SAS workmates to Jim and Carolyn hosting their annual hash party while we were in town, we had a great chance to catch up with a lot of old friends.

Medical Myths Continued...

Myth: A hospital is a restful place.
Fiction: When I was first admitted, I was put in a co-ed room for 4 (does anyone know if hospitals have co-ed rooms in the US?). It was almost impossible to rest between the broken ankle guy’s snoring and the constant flow of nurses and visitors for the other patients. When Jimmy asked if I could switch to a single room, the nurse laughed and said they didn’t have any. Luckily I was switched to a double room the first night after being brought to the OR prematurely and having to be sent away because of an emergency.

Myth: The Dutch are very open about nudity.
Fact: I’m clearly a prude because I refused to drop my undies when I put on my hospital gown, which stopped at my waist in the back. I couldn’t put on a robe because of my IV, so I got to show off my lovely white drawers to the rest of the room when I had to use the loo.

Myth: Medical care in a foreign country must be scary.
Fact and Fiction: Perhaps in much of the world, but I was thoroughly impressed with the care that I got at LUMC. All of the staff were very friendly, spoke English extremely well and I never felt that anything got lost in translation. This experience definitely helped me to appreciate Holland even more.

Myths about the Dutch Medical System...

Myth: There’s a ton of paperwork.
Fiction: Guess that’s just in the US. I never signed or filled out anything here. I showed my ID and insurance card twice. I asked if I needed to sign a consent form and was told that the fact that I told the surgeon I understood what would be happening was good enough (verbal agreements are binding in Holland). However, I did double check when they wheeled me into the operating room that they were removing my appendix and not my arm.

Myth: The Dutch hate pain killers.
Fiction: Apparently the Dutch just don’t like giving pain killers to pregnant women, because I was never denied. While the nurse did laugh when she asked if I needed any pain killers, because she thought that it was silly to use the word “killer” in a hospital, I was kept filled with Tylenol at all times (although I preferred some of the methods of distribution over others).

Myth: Going to the hospital is a good diet plan.
Fiction: Despite having only a glucose drip for 48 hours, I left the hospital with a belly bloated full of gas from the laproscopic surgery. I’d hoped they perform some liposuction while I was knocked out, but no such luck.

An Unexpected Organ Donation...

(I interrupt the regularly scheduled entries about our home leave to bring you this news story...)

Us girls got back from the US last Sunday and we laid low for two days unpacking and adjusting to the time change. Unfortunately, I started having some strange stomach pains on Tuesday. Wasn’t too worried; just took some Tums and Tylenol and went to bed. Woke up at 1:30am in intense pain and Jimmy decided to take me to the ER at Leiden University Medical Center (which surprisingly has an art collection of over 600 pieces), which meant waking up the girls and renting a Greenwheels car. Was mildly reprimanded at the hospital for not calling our Huisart (equivalent to a primary care physician, but whom we’ve never met), but pleaded ignorance and they were willing to check me out. Some poking, prodding and ultrasounding later, I was admitted as a appendectomy patient. Exhausted Veronica and Ashlynn had to leave to go to their first day of school, while I waited for an open operating room (all those kidney and lung transplants kept getting in the way). At 2am the next morning, I was knocked out with some stinky garlic stuff and underwent both laproscopic and traditional open surgery to remove my appendix. I was released the following morning and am now taking it easy at home. Good thing I gave up bikinis years ago because my belly now looks like a cutting board. I have to relax and can't ride my bike for 2 weeks, but I'm very happy to be rid of that useless organ (it’s the wormlike one above, which is attached to the start of the large intestine).

Paella Jimmy-Style...

The first time Jimmy cooked paella, he made our sweet sister-in-law Lara sick. Thankfully, he's been inspired by Carolyn Sparano and our visit to Valencia, Spain, the hometown of paella, to improve his recipe. I'm still amazed that he managed to squeeze in paella pans and a propane burner from Valencia into his backpack, but now he can cook it outdoors. Just before leaving for our first trip back to the States, we had neighbors Mike, Alex, Jan and Linda over on one of the few dry nights in July. While Jimmy cooked on one part of the dock, Ashlynn caught her first fish from another part (and, no, we didn't put them into the paella).

Duck!

When Mike says “Duck!” on his boat, he’s not referring to the webbed footed kind. Our boat trip included passing under several bridges for cars, trains or pedestrians, many of which the boat barely clears. Since we’re usually in a canoe, we don’t have to worry about ducking very often. It’s definitely a different experience sitting up higher off the water. We may have had to duck more, but we could appreciate the view more, although that might have been since I was only having to concentrate on drinking wine instead of paddling.