communication breakdown, it's always the same

Hey, that looks like the Veterans Affairs Hospital in Charleston!

Yep, that's what it is alright.

Okay... is this an odd salute to veterans this Independance Day?

Not really. I'm just commemorating my unexpected trip there today. What a way to celebrate being a veteran! Just because my neighbors called the city on me instead of talking to me about my back yard.

I don't understand...

Well, I admit that I had let the back yard go for a while.
Quite a while.
Meaning I had only cut the grass back there twice this year.
Also, I had never cut back the wild lantana smothering the back fence, so the dead limbs now jutted in all directions.
But, in my defense, I was keeping the front yard quite lovely!
Also, I had wild irises staggering all over the back and really liked their purple blooms! So, when I had cut the yard, I had left islands of purple all over the place.
But the dandelions were making a stand and trying to take over.
Still, all someone would have had to do was ask and I would have taken care of it.
But no one did.

That's what you mean with that Led Zeppelin reference?

Yep. Definite communication breakdown.
A week ago Wednesday, I came home from "The Croods" to a yellow notice on my door. "Please cut back yard", it read, threatening me with time in jail and a thousand-dollar fine if I did not do so by July 1st.
I had just cut the back yard - most of it - on Monday, getting it done before the rain. I had rushed through my mowing of the front yard, then continued in the back until the battery was out of juice.
So, how could I have received this notice when the work was mostly done?
I immediately called the number on the notice to complain.
The inspector came out within minutes and we walked through the back yard. She pointed out the shrubbery on the side fence and back fence.
"Those are my butterfly bushes", I told her.
Well, apparently, they are not allowed to touch the fences. Nor are they allowed to be higher than the fences.

Seriously?

You bet. Also, if they poke through the fence to your neighbor's side, you are supposed to pull them back through to your side.
And cut them.

Again... seriously???

Yes, indeed.
She told me the city had received a couple of complaints via their 311 link, but this was the first time they had been out to my house. One of the complaints had mentioned a fear of snakes; that is the one which spurred the visit.
"Snakes?" I said. "If there is any problem with snakes, it's from the house next door. They have a pool and snakes love pools. My cousin in Tallahassee has a pool and has a terrible time keeping snakes out of her yard."
The city inspector looked right at me and said, "They have a pool next door?"
"Yes, ma'am. They've had it the whole time I've lived here and I've lived here since Thanksgiving of 2001."
Scribble, scribble, went her pen.
[side note: Ever since then, my neighbors with the pool have not been in it. I have to wonder if they weren't supposed to have it. They are the only folks in this subdivision who have a pool. Up until a week ago, they were in it daily, usually with company. They didn't have their usual 4th of July pool party, either.)

So, what did you do?

Well, she gave me until July 8th to remedy the situation.
On Tuesday, I cleared out the brush along the side fences and finished cutting the back yard. Part of the vegetation along one side were thorny vines, stretching up into the oak tree. Also, the ubiquitous blackberry brambles were there as well as briars.
I came away fairly scratched, but okay.
I hauled it all up front, took photos to serve as proof that I was making headway, and resolved to continue in a few days.
Well, once the city trash service had picked it up on Wednesday, I felt compelled to put some more out there.
So, yesterday, I moved my efforts to the back fence.
Yikes.
Between the efforts of the briars, brambles, and splintery dead lantana limbs, my legs, arms, and hands were pretty scratched up. To complicate matters, I also had a blister on my thumb from using a hand saw on some of the thicker growth.

Why didn't you wear gloves? And long pants?

Because it's too hot for all that and I do not have an air-conditioned house to escape into. Yes, I know I should have, but I did not.
We all make mistakes.
For sure.
Anywho, I jumped inside, got showered, and headed for the Gnats' game. Fireworks, you know?
And I get there and all seems to be okay. But then I started noticing the back of my right leg, just above my ankle, kept feeling wet.

It was bleeding???

No, no, no, not bloody... just... wet.
I would wipe it off, and it would be wet again. Within moments. With a clear, maybe slightly sticky, odorless fluid.
I went to the bathroom to clean it up and see what was going on. Yep, there it goes, two beads of moisture seeping to the surface of a long, horizontal scratch. Continuously.
I brought a handful of paper towels back to my seat and kept wiping my leg throughout the game.
Fireworks tonight!
Also, my first niece was coming with her foster son to watch fiReWOrKs with me. I was NOT leaving the game early!

Headstrong, headstrong!

Yeah, yeah.
(smile)
As soon as I got home, I tried some isopropyl alcohol on the scratch.
No effect.
Hydrogen peroxide was applied next.
No effect.
Pressure? What about some oldfashioned direct pressure?
No effect.
Nothing staunched the flow.
I tried some waterproof bandages to keep the fluid at bay.
The bandages got waterlogged and slid off.
Finally, I used a pantiliner, taped in place.
That did the trick!

Oh, good! So, it finally stopped?

Nope. When I was awakened near noon by a phone call, I found the wound was still seeping clear fluid.
Still.
Now I was beginning to worry. So I called the VA After Hours Medical Hotline.
Bonnie, a nurse in Dayton, Ohio, answered.
After she heard my story, she told me I needed to have it looked at. Especially as it was approaching 24 hours since the onset of the seepage.
Drats.
The Service Clinic here was closed for the holiday, as well as the weekend.
Wait until it opened on Monday? What if the wound dripped all that time? What if I became dehydrated from it?
Drats.
Bonnie told me I needed to go to the VA Hospital. Because it was not blood oozing out of my body, she could not refer me to the Emergency Room of one of the local civilian hospitals.
Drats.

Definitely drats.

Most def. So, I packed a bag - just in case! - and let folks know where I was going and off I went.
I arrived there in about 2 1/2 hours, spent roughly an hour there, then returned home.
I've been here almost an hour.
Sure, I saw a few fiReWOrKs today, from a distance, as I drove along the interstate on my way into town.
But, mostly, this veteran spent her day on the hot roads between Savannah and Charleston.
All because her neighbors couldn't be bothered with direct communication with her about her back yard.

Maybe that's why the angel peeked in on me yesterday at the game...
and sent my first niece to keep me company...
to reassure me that I was loved.
(smile!)