Coach Flip Naumburg's Journal

Monday, August 1, 2005 

FIRST CALL FOR FALL BALL, or Thinking about getting ready to get ready

Since a few things remain lacking from the last lacrosse season, the summer seems to be crawling by at an almost snail-like pace.  The Vail Shootout finished less than a month ago, but it seems like a year.  The camp was over just three weeks ago to the day, and I can barely remember it.  Maybe that is at least partly because I am so eager to make next year's High Altitude Lacrosse Camp bigger, better, and more.  Maybe I just can't wait to get back on the field coaching again.

NEWS AND HUES

It is summer here in Pompei.  I can't tell if Mt Vesuvius has just erupted or if it is just spewing its normal lava from the ongoing flow. Know what I mean, Vern?

I came home from Florida today.  I have gotten lots of recent lax news, some good some not so good.  Remember that one starting attack man we had, the experience?  Forget about it. He is out for at least the Fall with a clavicle shattered while mountain biking the other day.  He will have surgery tomorrow night with pins and stuff to be put in. 

We have several bad knees at midfield that are not getting fixed and this is upsetting me now because despite what Kaiser Permanente or whoever says about these knees, they will not repair themselves. Unfortunately I think I have come to have a real good sense of what a knee that needs the knife looks and acts like, and in my opinion we need two or three surgeries right now or these kids won't be healthy all season.

We are altered and partly crippled and I haven't even coached yet

Truthfully when I think of this season I have no preconceived notions about personnel. That might turn out to be a very useful approach based on the so far.   I do, however, have vivid images about its (team) personality and the characteristics that I want it to have, the style of play if you will.  Can you say aggressive?  How about angry?

On the good news front Alex Smith (CSU goalie '03) has signed on to be an assistant, and this is something we both have been hoping for, and now it is becoming an actuality.  He brings a love for the program along with his passion for the game.  His skill as author, goalie, and coach is well documented.  We should have a solid and fun coaching staff in '05-‘06, and it is all pretty well set.

BOW WOW

We are in the "dog days" of summer.  I have been here and there, but it has stayed pretty much over ninety degrees wherever it and I was.  I am writing as I am flying from Orlando to Denver.  I have been "looking after" my mother in Florida.  They had her trapped in one of these "rehab" places.  It is really mostly a nursing home, nothing more.  She had surgery to remove cancer and she hadn't been home for a month.  Come to think of it, no one there (elderly patients) seemed like they were actually in the process of rehabbing their way back home. This alarmed me a bit.

I had reservations about the place the minute I saw that my mother had requested a fruit plate (checked box) on the menu that sat on the tray next to her dinner plate.  Ironically somehow the actual plate in front of her was stuffed with some kind of mystery meat, mashed potatoes, and gravy.  There was no check in that box, and I feel sure that the closest fruit was probably in the super market down the street.  My level of trust in the place was not buoyed by this piece of evidence, one that by the by occurred again and again in the short time that I was around there.

IT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER WHERE I GO, I OFTEN BURN THE BRIDGES THAT GOT ME THERE

My mother is 81.  She has some physical things going on, but her attitude is great.  Her cookies are mostly still in the old cupboard. She has been in a place recently where almost everyone is not really "rehabbing".   In fact they seem to be mostly there to die, and I don't mean change hair colors, I mean get dead.  Many of those sit motionless in their wheel chairs all day long, and many are already halfway back into the fetal position as they sit.  I found it a very sad reality check.

My mother requires daily help these days to be sure, but it became clear to me on my first visit that this was not the place where she was going to get those things she personally needs. It is a building filled more with resolve than with hope.  I wanted to get her home so we could get the smell of death off of her and get on to something else, or at least that was my take on the situation.

It seemed like every question I asked a medical person was answered by whether or not Medicare paid for it.  I don't care if Medicare pays for it.  I wanted to get whatever was best for my mother.  They had no clue about helping us with that part.  I began to feel like the Florida hospital system is some kind of giant processing plant where everyone is practically dead or will be dieing soon, and they (medical professionals) are all there and paid just to help keep moving things along. 

It seemed as though we were on a strictly "need to know" basis. This didn't work well with my need to know and lack of time. Getting information from there was akin to squeezing water from a stone, or at least similar to asking a United Airlines travel agent about why the plane will be taking off late.

I know for sure that she (Ma) has more doctors than she gets information about her problems.  The MD's all get paid, but she may or may not have ever actually seen them in person.   I do know for sure that one surgeon accidentally nicked her lung, collapsing it, while taking a biopsy one month ago, which is why she had been in for a month in the first place.  This guy is nowhere to be found now.  My faith in what "they" are telling me is not that high.  At the same time, I am not a doctor and I don't even play one on TV.  This is not the easiest thing I have ever done.  I know I should try to put a more positive spin on the health care situation, but I just can't.

GET ME OUT OF HERE

So, Ma wanted to get out.  I wanted to get her out.  We were told on Friday that a Sunday release was going to happen.  All her therapy and directives were on that course.  They had her doing practical activities that she needed to do in order to survive and thrive on her own when she got home, like cooking.  This seemed great and everything was going along fine until I went in to the therapy center first thing on Sunday morning, prepared to take Mama home, when who shows up but Nurse Ratchet herself.  She dug her heels in and she was not going to let anyone take anyone anywhere without specific orders from a specific doctor and there was all these other little issues that she was now reciting to me, too.  It was Sunday and I had no intention of waiting for some doctor to get off the golf course or whatever, and I wasn't about to spend the day with this lady.  I was in the cuckoo's nest and nowhere close to flying over it.

To make a long story only a little shorter we were out of there in less than an hour, but I had burned my bridge to this place, and the NURSE made us sign papers that would basically say that I demanded mother's release, and if she drops dead soon it will likely be my fault.  Well, this got me to thinking on the way home, and what I decided was that I had taken on quite a bit of responsibility all of a sudden.  Could Ma really handle being home alone as well as I had determined? The other thing was that if something bad were to happen to Mom on my watch, then big sister would kill me anyway, because she's been handling this stuff so far and she had been doing it all so well.  Meanwhile I came in and blew things up in only three days.  Anyway, she (Ma) is back at home and I think healthy enough and with it enough to handle, so in the main sense mission was accomplished.  She is a far happier soul today than she was yesterday.

We (Ada and whole family) will go back down for a visit in ten days.  We want to spend as much time with her as we can.

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