Party Times with Eminent Domain

I haven't been posting a lot lately. (Lately being the past two years or so.) BUT! But, I thought I'd type out our experience with this happening to us, in case it might ever help someone out there.

I blogged last year when this all started. The day someone from the state showed up and said "Surprise! We're taking your house!" I blogged about that day here. We started looking at houses soon after, not knowing for sure how quickly things were going to move. The woman from the state had said it would be pretty soon. It turns out MY definition of soon, and the state's definition of soon, are very very different.

We looked at houses and stressed and worried. We didn't hear from a soul for six months. In October, the same woman called me up wanting to meet with me so we could sign papers that would actually get the ball rolling. The next day, I hadn't called her back yet, and she showed up at my house. She said the people she worked with were very urgent about getting stuff signed, as things needed to happen "soon." I signed the papers which were their offer for the actual house, our moving options, and then the really interesting stuff, "Comparable replacement houses." Now, there had been an appraiser, and we were supposed to get a copy of that, but thinking back, we never did.

Their offer was a lot lower than we were expecting. Just enough to get us out of our mortgage, and that's it. They weren't even offering us our tax assessed amount. To make things even more hair-pulling, those "Comparable" houses they found for us were all almost $30,000 more than what they were giving us for ours. Even though the law here in our state says they have to give us fair market value, somehow to them, that turns out being thousands less than our tax assessed value, and tens of thousands less than comparable houses. How that logic works, I have NO idea.

At that point she told us we had 30 days to accept their offer. We got in touch with an attorney, and got really serious about looking for houses. The attorney couldn't figure out the logic, either, but he couldn't get them to budge. If we paid the $500 to have our own appraisal done, they may have considered going up a little, but not enough to make it worth it, and basically, it was a take it or. . .take it. Situation.

We did end up taking it, because there was also a clause that stated since the comparable houses were so much higher, if we bought a house at that same price, they would give us the difference as a down payment. ONLY if we bought a house that high, though. (So, if we bought a house $5,000 more than what they gave us, they'd give us $5,000 for the down payment. $10,000 more, we'd get that. Up to a cap of almost $30,000.) We did the only logical thing: shopped as expensive as we could, up to the cap that the state was willing to pay out. We figured it would be asinine not to. I still don't get how any of this is logical, but, whatevs.

That brings us to the end of November. We were first told that we'd need to be out 60 days from then, so we freaked the heck out, and told our realtor. (The look on his face was priceless.) Halfway through the process of finding and putting an offer on the new house, we finally find out that no, we won't have to be out until 60 days after we officially sign over the house to the state, which hadn't happened yet. We were told they wanted the closing to happen the beginning of January. We got all of our ducks in a row for that, and it didn't happen then. We waited, and waited. . .and waited for the funds to come down from the powers that be so we could sign our house over.

The closing that we were told to expect the first week of January didn't end up happening until February 8th. For people that were so urgent to have us out of the house, they sure took their time. So, on February 8th, 2013, the kids and I sat with a lawyer in a conference room, and I signed away our house to the state of Georgia. No one from the state was there.

(Hannah at the proceedings)

This whole thing had been so difficult, we were trying to look ahead, to the closing on the new house. It was supposed to be the following Tuesday. The hubby called the state people to make sure the down payment funds would be there, and. . .surprise! No, they wouldn't. They needed to inspect the house themselves, and then send off paperwork to request the funds. The closing would have to be pushed back. Our realtor warned us that if it didn't happen within a week of the original closing date, the sellers could back out, because we would be in breach of contract. We stressed and the hubby made lots of phone calls that week. I think he called the state people every day asking if the funds had come in yet. Finally, finally they did, and we closed one week later. Just in time.

Now we're at the point where we are under the 60 day clock, and have been since February 8th, although in a weird twist, they are giving us all the way to April 21 before we have to hand over the keys. The kids and I are slowly moving what we can until the hubby can come down and help us move the bigger stuff, so we can start living in the new house. It's all been very hard on the kids, but they are really excited about the new house.

You'd think we'd be done with the aggravation of dealing with the government people, but no, it still drags on. We had the choice of the state hiring someone to move us, or we could move ourselves, and we'd get moving expense money. We chose to move ourselves, and then found out the "fun" thing, that you don't get the moving expenses until AFTER you've moved. In our case, we're not rolling in money, so the state agent agreed to send of the paperwork to get half up front. It takes weeks to get it though, of course. We won't get the other half until we're completely out of the other house, and then they submit the paperwork, and we get to wait weeks again.

This whole thing has been. . .annoying as all get out. A lot of hurry up and wait on our part, a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration. (And looking back, I'm realizing that by the time we hand over the keys, it will have been an entire year since they first showed up at our door.)

I know this has been long, and maybe even a bit convoluted, but I wanted to get it all out there. Maybe someone out there will be googling "eminent domain" or "OMG the state is taking our house", not knowing what is going to happen next. Maybe they will land here, and at least get some insight.

p.s.-Is it May, yet?

A Momentous Day

We've waited 8 1/2 very long years for this.

Dried Lava to Sparkles

A sampling of reactions from my daughters' reactions to the dresses worn to the Golden Globes this evening, just because life is so amazingly stressful right now I NEEDED something like this to blog.

For those who don't know, Hannah is 6, and Lindsay is 10.

Claire Danes:
H: Eh, no. (Me: why not?) Because of that line thing that shows her feet.
L: I like that one. It's a pretty dress, even though it doesn't have any glitter or anything.

Amy Adams:
H: No. (Why not?) It's just. . .ugh. (She seems too disgusted for words.)
L: I don't think so. It's a dull color.

Amy Poehler:
H: That's not a dress. (But how does she look?) *silence*
L: It's pretty good.

Tina Fey:
H: That's too much flowers.
L: I like those flowers. She's got style.
(an aside, did she change her dress or something? We didn't watch the actual show.)

Zooey Deschanel:
H: I like it a little.
L: I love that one, it's the color of roses.

Debra Messing:
H: It looks like dried lava.
L: The ruffles are pretty good.

Alyssa Milano:
H: I like that one, but not the belt part.
L: I like the train and the color.

Hayden Panettiere:
H: Ooh, I like this one too. It's so white!
L: Oooooh! Ahhhhhh!

Anne Hathaway:
H: Uhhh, it's skinny. Nope.
L:It looks like she's ready to go to a party, which is pretty good.

Jodie Foster:
H: Oooooh sparkly!
L: Are those sparkles? (yes.) I LOVE sparkles!

Halle Berry:
H: I like the colors. (when the cutout part was pointed out to her) So?
L: I don't think so. The split part is almost showing her underwear.

Mayim Byalik:
H: Ummmm. Maybe.
L: I like the shimmer and tulle.

Jennifer Lopez:
H: Pretty!
L: It's a job well done.

Sofia Vergara:
Hannah: Gasp!
Lindsay: That's BEAUTIFUL.

Salma Hayek:
H: Why is there a bow?
L: I don't like the way her breasts poof up.

Jennifer Garner:
H: Pretty!
L: Now THAT'S a dress.


Hannah's favorite: Isla Fisher. "Cause sparkles." Yes, of course.

Lindsay's favorite: Alyssa Milano "It's pretty. Really pretty." Well, there you go.

2012, An Apocalyptic Year

As I'm sitting here, safely in 2013, I can't help but reflect on the past year. If it's true that what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, then it shouldn't be too long before I'm able to bench press a semi.

January was pretty quiet, and the year actually started off okay. Then, February 3rd, my sense of peace was rocked to the core when Ryan had a seizure unexpectedly. When it happened, I was sure I was watching him die, and I don't think I've really relaxed since then.

March was super busy, but ok. The kids had their first ballet performance, and while it was exhausting, it was a blast.

Then in April, our life gets rocked again when out of the blue, someone from the state shows up to let us know they're taking our house to tear it down and widen a road.

The summer included things like our van needing expensive repairs, Ryan splitting open his knee so bad it required nine stitches, crutches, and an immobilizer that ran from his hip to his ankle, and my step mom's father dying.

The fall brought me finding out I have skin cancer, having biopsies and surgery, and the fun from that still hasn't ended, because just last week I pulled out a few stitches that had been accidentally left behind. I also had the fun of having one of those calls where the hubby starts off by saying "We're all ok, BUT. . ." He was riding with Ryan in his truck when they hit a slick patch and rolled off the interstate. Looking back through the pictures reminds me once again of how lucky we were that they both survived it.

We've finished out the year by finding out we need to move out by the end of February so the state can take the house, their offer is really crappy, and the house we really really wanted got bought before we could put in an offer. At least December 31 brought the news that we are pre-approved to buy a new house. (something we had been sweating a little.)

So, even though the Mayans were wrong, and the world didn't end, it sure felt like it might several times for us this past year.

Welcome 2013, please be a boring year for us. We could use it.

Cancer Removal Surgery Update

(Not a very clever title, but whatevs, it's been a long day.)

Thought I'd give a little update on how things have been going. If you haven't read the previous post, you should, to get caught up.

This post isn't going to say much except "tada! This is what I look like now." I will say that the surgeon that did the cancer removal called, and the end tests they did came back conclusive for basal cell, and not squamous. So there's that.

Anywho, this was me on Saturday, November 17th. Five days past the cancer removal, three days past the plastic surgery closure. I took this picture feeling very accomplished, because I had just successfully taken a shower.

This was Wednesday, November 21st. Nine days past cancer removal, one week past the closure stage. I got my stitches out this day, and more steri-strips put on. The orange stuff is betadine they used to clean my nose. 

And this is me just now. A really bad and dark cell phone picture after a long day. Today is exactly two weeks past the plastic surgery part. The steri-strips are starting to peel off. Won't be long until they are gone, and then I'll post a picture of what the whole thing looks like on its own. Pretty happy with the way things are looking, though. A lot better than the pictures in my previous post, eh?

In which our hero says: Owww

Previously on "Midget Invasion": I had a weird scab on my nose that had been there a very long time. It wasn't very big. In fact, it started off very tiny, but grew and grew until it was about the size of a pencil eraser. Finally, I went to the doctor. A biopsy ensued, with a month of waiting, and the results came back. Skin cancer, and it looked like squamous cell, which is super rare in a woman of my age. To read the unabridged versions of this part of the story, go back to the two blog posts before this one.

So, when we left off, I had a referral to a surgeon, and didn't know what was going to happen next. This week, it all happened. Well, back when I first met the surgeon, he wasn't convinced it was squamous cell, and thought it was basal cell that was just really pissed off. Basal cell is still rare in someone of my age, but not quite as jaw droppingly rare. We scheduled the surgery, a Mohs procedure, which is where they numb you, cut out what they think will get it all, and then have you sit and wait while they test it. If they didn't get it all, they come back and cut more. The idea is that it actually ends up taking out less tissue than the traditional treatments, where they just cut out a huge margin to be absolutely sure.

This past Monday was my Mohs. They shot my nose full of lidocaine, which is a party in itself right there.

Then they stuck this to my hand:

                                                

Does anyone know what that is for? Anyone?

If you said "It's a grounding pad so when they cauterize your tissue they don't accidentally electrocute you." Then, you get a gold sticky star! It's an annoying thing, too, because if you've ever felt the sticky stuff on the monitors they put on your chest when you're in the hospital, the whole thing is made of THAT, and it's on your whole hand. My sensory issue self was not pleased.

So, the surgeon comes in, they drape my face, and he begins. He cuts out a piece he hopes will get it all, and then the resident cauterizes the bleeding part. Getting to smell your own flesh roasting is always such a fun experience, especially when it's on your nose, so you have no choice but to breathe it in.

Here is a picture of the first chunk they cut out. Click at your own risk. This is graphic, and gory, and Midget Invasion is not responsible for any fainting, vomiting, or heads hit on desks. http://flickr.com/gp/10455228@N00/043461

 The nurse comes in to dress the wound, and then I sit and wait. I brought a book which I attempted to read, but I was way too distracted. I paced the room, visited the restroom a few times, paced the room some more, and read all the pamphlets and inspected the medical equipment.

Finally the surgeon comes back in. "Sorry, but we need to take more." Sigh. More lidocaine, more sticky grounding pad, more draping, more cutting, more smelling my own flesh burning, more nurse bandaging, more waiting.

Shot of the second chunk they took. Same warnings as before. Gore ahead: http://flickr.com/gp/10455228@N00/3w0Ux2

This time I wait longer. I visit the restroom some more, try to read some more, and then try to straighten the pictures on the wall that are crooked, because it's been bothering me the whole time. As I'm adding the finishing touches to the straightened pictures, the surgeon comes back in. Huzzah, they finally got it all! The nurse bandages me up just like it is. I have a plastic surgery referral, so they leave it open for him to deal with. Finally I get to go home.

The plastic surgeon is very nice. He looks at it, and offers to put me out for the repair, which won't be until the next morning. I decline, because the hubby had to leave the next afternoon. We part ways, and then the next morning I go back to the hospital for the third morning in a row. The surgeon once again offers to put me under, but I promise him I won't bug out on him. They prep me, and then the real fun begins. More lidocaine injections. Massive amounts this time. 

An aside-if you've never had lidocaine injections, just imagine fire ants stinging you and injecting rubbing alcohol into an open wound. If you can imagine what that feels like, then you've got the idea. 

He numbs up my entire nose, down the sides, and a large chunk of my forehead, too. The wound is so big, that he has to cut more to close it. He also tells me he's not entirely sure if it's going to work. That he might have to do a more extensive repair where they cut all the way up my forehead to bring a flap down. He tells me if we end up doing that, I'll have to be put out. 

I lay there while he cuts and pulls, and chatters with his resident and nurse, deciding how best to avoid having me look like something out of a horror movie. (Too bad this wasn't right before Halloween, it would have greatly improved my zombie costume!) Finally he decides that if he only cuts a little of my forehead, he thinks he can make it work. He warns that it will be tight, but should loosen up over time. (He was having to pull the skin from the sides of my nose up really hard, which in turn was pulling my cheeks under my eyes pretty tight, too.) 

He finishes, throwing steri-strips on for good measure, and then tells me to get the stitches out in a week, and get more steri-strips put on, because he's worried the wound could pull back open again. Here I am as soon as he sat me up. (No idea how many stitches and in what configuration the cuts are in. I forgot to ask.)

Me: "Omg, I look like one of the vampires from Buffy!"

I go home, the hubby fills my prescriptions, and I proceed to spend the next 36 hours absolutely and completely miserable. The pain was awful, the swelling got WAY worse than this. (Sorry, no pictures of that. I was too busy trying not to die. But to give you an idea, that swelling you can see on the sides of my nose spread out under each eye. That eye on the left was really hard to keep open at one point.) I couldn't even stand up to go to the bathroom without having to fight throwing up. I had to go cold turkey off the pain meds they had prescribed, because it just made the nausea constant.

Last night, I was able to sit on the couch for a few hours without keeling over. This morning I woke up feeling almost human. Almost.

Now we spend the next few weeks hoping the stitches hold, the wound doesn't reopen, and that I come out the other side of this looking halfway decent. Whee! I'll definitely blog again when we hit the next phase and the stitches are out and you can actually see the incisions. I bet you're all looking forward to that.

Moral of the story? SUNSCREEN!

Sunscreen and the "C" word

If you haven't read my first blog post about this, you should, so you're all caught up. I'm not typing all of that out again. Click here to read it.

Well, the biopsy ended up taking almost a month. My doctor finally called me to let me know the results were in, and it had taken so long because the pathologists here couldn't figure it out, so they sent it all the way to Washington D.C. to be looked at. Turns out, the guy that made the final call is one of THE main pathologists for the entire military. So I feel a bit special.

The verdict? Yup, the "C" word. Although, it is not basal cell as they first suspected. Oh no, in keeping with family tradition, I got something extremely rare for someone my age and gender to get. Squamous cell carcinoma. Whee. (Men are twice as likely as women to get it, and the average age is somewhere around 70 or 80 years old. I'm 32.) The biopsy report said they were suspicious it was invasive, as well. The biopsy hadn't been deep enough to tell for sure, though.

Originally, my doctor wanted to do as the report suggested, and do a deeper biopsy involving stitches. If it wasn't invasive, we could do topical treatment, if it was, I would be referred for surgery. I went back and forth with my doctor a lot, and we finally agreed that just sending me for surgery was best. If we had done a second biopsy, the results would again take a month, because they'd have to be sent back to Washington D.C. Not to mention the fact that I'd have stitches, and then once those healed, if it was invasive, I'd be cut there AGAIN, and have to have more stitches. This way, I'm only going to get cut open once, and it won't matter if it's invasive or not, it will all be taken out.

So, I guess I have my "C" badge now. My consult appointment with the surgeon is next Tuesday, and then I guess we'll be scheduling the surgery.

It's one of the harsh realities of life: stupid decisions made when you are a kid (Like getting tons of sunburns) can come back to completely bite you in the butt as an adult. There is no "Wiping the slate clean" with this sort of thing.

Here it is, that little mark that looks like no big deal. We have to hope that it hasn't spread further so they don't have to cut away half my nose or anything, and we hope that it hasn't sent out any friends to party elsewhere in my body. This shows how one little scab can change everything.