Friendship

So while I've been going through mysterious medical maladies, Uncle Barty and Bertrand have been spending more time with their friends.

Naturally my crocheted mice are worried about me, and their friends - being true friends - are giving them plenty of love, distraction, and support.

True friendship is a beautiful thing, isn't it? We bond in our similarities and respect each other's differences. The similarities remind us we aren't along, and the differences keep things fresh and interesting.

Last night a writerly friend reached out and asked if I needed anything. I said, "prayer and friendship."

She assured me of both, "into eternity."

Anyway, the mice recently sent me this photo. I think that just about sums up this post, don't you?

Happy Tuesday!

Hospital Rewards Card?

So as I've previously written, our family has spent a very challenging couple of years, which have come with unexpected blessings and (perhaps) the opportunity to grow stronger.

Humor is one of our family's coping mechanisms - and Rebekah used that card on Thursday night as we walked into the hospital emergency department, prepared for another all-nighter, for the second time in one month, for a second and separate reason.

Rebekah said, "They should offer a punch card," and I laughed.

So at the check-in desk, I asked if they offered a rewards card for frequent customers. The woman at the desk laughed, too.

None of that changed the situation, of course. But why not momentarily lighten the mood for all?

After I was triaged, I thanked everyone for their time and help and then headed out to the waiting room to find Rebekah and our backpacks of "stuff."

As I left, I heard one of the providers say to the other, "I wish they were all like her."

They don't really (just ask my family).

But I do like the idea of a hospital rewards card.

In the day of rising health care costs, offering a free visit could result in misuse by patients.

Still - why not a free coffee while you wait after, say, ten visits?

Or hospital swag (Rebekah loves swag): T-shirts, hoodies, coolers, mugs? Or (better yet) blankets and travel pillows (yes, Rebekah brings travel pillows and blankets. But extras never hurt).

Could this idea catch on?

Thoughts?

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage"

"It's a Christmas Miracle!"

This photo from the post about my mother's nativity scene seemed like the best one to use today.

And I'll keep this post short.

I've had wildly fluctuating blood pressure for decades for some known and also unknown reasons.

This typically prompts great anxiety whenever I walk into a room with a blood pressure cuff.

So you can imagine the anxiety when I am actually getting my blood pressure taken.

A couple of weeks ago, I visited my primary for a follow-up on one day and a follow-up with my endocrinologist on the next day.

Both times, to my wonderment and delight, the readings were extremely normal.

My endocrinologist was equally delighted and exclaimed, "It's a Christmas miracle!"

At first glance, such sentiments seem silly and trite.

But they really are not, if you think about it.

My family is still on a several-year chaotic stretch of one emergency after another. We have a lot of turbulence in the background we cannot control, and that turbulence is teaching us (very slowly) how to walk more deeply in faith.

Whether or not you consider the first Christmas story to be fact or fiction, the details are the same.

During an especially volatile time in the world, a savior was born in the midst of it, very quietly, very humbly, and without much fanfare or notice from most people.

If your life today is smooth and without struggles, rejoice! That is a huge blessing indeed. Revel in that while you can.

If your life today is difficult and challenging, also rejoice!

For tucked away in all of that turmoil are little miracles just waiting for you to see them, recognize them, and embrace them.

That is the Christmas miracle waiting for you. 

The Dream?

Sleep eluded me for some time on Friday night once I realized I might be back in the ER on Saturday morning.

I remember lying on my right side with my mind slipping between alert and drowsy, and praying the problem might be resolved on its own without medical intervention.

I sensed a voice saying that might happen if I remained right and chose small.

Or I could choose left and the follow the larger way, the path laid out for me.

I wavered a moment. Small and easy was so tempting. But small and easy also felt bleak.

So I rolled onto my left and promptly fell asleep.

And in the morning, since the physical issue hadn't resolved, Timothy and I went to the ER.

We stayed for twelve hours, and I was admitted. 

I met some wonderful people.

I heard some amazing stories.

I'll share a few tomorrow.

Have a wonderful Tuesday.

Infirmery Weekend

The festivities started with a trip to the ER for me at eleven o'clock on Saturday night, getting into bed a couple of hours before dawn for a nap, and then off to the dentist with Daniel for our regularly scheduled appointments.

We had the post-dentist festivities of running around for medicine, which, on Monday morning, appears to have started doing its job. But it's making me super sleepy, so hopefully I'll just need one week of it. Still, it makes for a challenging work week. Wish me luck!

Rebekah, who is recovering from gall bladder surgery, goes back to work today. Fortunately, she does work from home. She is feeling better but not completely. Wish her luck, too!

Timothy and Daniel biked twenty miles yesterday as part of an event to raise money for diabetes, and about halfway into the ride Daniel's handlebars came apart. The boys reassmbled them as best as they could. The rest of the biking was difficult for him, but he finished the twenty miles and came home super, super sore (he is better this morning - wish him luck).

On the other hand, Timothy is taking a week of vacation this week. Wish him luck for a boring, uneventful week. 

Finally, to make sure the weekend didn't end on a boring note, Sarah had to take my mother to the ER last night and had to bring my father along for the ride because he has early Alzheimer's.

But because of COVID, they could not stay. So Sarah went back to my parents' house with my dad to wait for a call from the hospital. By eleven o'clock at night, the hospital was considering admitting my mother. Thirty minutes later, Sarah and my dad were on the road because the hospital had no beds.

So while this post may sound like a gripe, I hope you see the blessings between the lines.

Blessings of modern medicine and the people who provide those services and care.

Blessings of adult children who have their priorities in place and give of their time for others.

It's a great Monday morning.

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage."

Remember the Old Good News/Bad News Jokes? Well...

If you do, you'll understand this post right away.

If you don't, I'm going to introduce you to them with this post.

Now all the facts are true. I'm just telling them to you in a different way.

It all started on Tuesday night when Timothy texted me. One of the older workers at our complex was out snow blowing. It was about thirteen hours after he'd been at our townhome installing a new dishwasher (ours broke down a week ago, yes before Christmas).

Around 9:30 p.m., I went downstairs for some water to take with my medicine. Here we go.

Me: So I stopped by the picture window to check on him, you know, to be sure he was OK.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No it's not. When I turned away from the window, I caught my right pinkie toe on a box. The toe went one way, and I went another.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, It's not. It really didn't hurt so I hobbled to the kitchen to ice it right away, just in case, to prevent swelling.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. As soon as the ice touched my toe, the zero pain went to thirty on a scale of one to ten!

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it isn't. I've done this to my pinky toes more than once over the years: I'm running to catch a rebellious toddler, or I'm rushing into a room to get ready for work. I know the signs of a sprained toe and how to buddy tape it.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. I can't do a proper job of buddy taping by myself.

You: That's terrible.

Me: No, it's not. Rebekah lives with me, and she is very good at buddy taping.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. She was hanging out next door with Timothy, and my phone was upstairs, forty-four miles away from the kitchen.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. I was able to hobble upstairs and call her. She came home right away.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No it's not. I kept catching the tape on the blankets all night, and the resulting pain would wake me up.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. By morning, the toe didn't hurt at all.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. I had so much numbness in the buddy toe that I was concerned about its circulation. Also, I had numbness and tingling in about half my foot. It didn't feel like a simple sprain.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. We kept an eye on it and decided to go to quick care right after lunch. Timothy had no problem taking me and kept distracting me with talks of buying a new car all the way out to Minooka.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. I have a phobia of having my blood pressure being taken. I flip out just by being in the same room as a blood pressure cuff. Plus, it's the holidays, and we're in the middle of a pandemic and flu season. The last place I want to go is quick care.

You: That's terrible.

Me: No, it's not. The waiting room was empty, and I was taken to a room in less than five minutes.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. The certified nurse assistant immediately started taking my blood pressure, and the nurse started asking me questions, so I couldn't practice my relaxation techniques. I did warn the CNA that I'm "white coat extraordinaire."

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. The CNA simply kept taking my blood pressure until she got a normal reading. She inspired so much confidence in me that I immediately relaxed and stayed that way.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. I quickly went to X-ray where a second technician had to hold my toe waaay apart from the rest of my toes to get the proper imaging. It HURT!

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. The X-ray showed only a sprain. The nurse practitioner said someone would call if the radiologist saw a break. I was re-buddy-taped and out the door in less than an hour for the total visit.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. When I got to the car, Timothy told me he had done a "silly thing." Always frugal, Timothy had shut the car off to save gas. But he had forgotten to turn off the headlights. The battery on the car had died, and it was cold and windy outside.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. He called a brother in Morris who's very good with cars, The brother came out immediately to jump the battery.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. This brother has a medical note because he gets claustrophobia wearing a facemask. And he got in the car with me a couple of times.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. I had my facemask on, and he didn't stay long, just to check gauges. He offered to help Timothy buy a battery at an auto supply store and change it on the spot. The battery that died was the original one with the vehicle, so it's five years old.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. The cheapest battery for that car cost more than going to shop for a better battery and installation.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it isn't. The "jumped" charge lasted all the way home, and Timothy paid his older brother for his time and expertise.

You: Aw, that's wonderful!

Me: No, it's not. The brother is broke and wasted the money on lobster. In the meantime, quick care called back and said the toe was fractured at the base.

You: That's terrible!

Me: No, it's not. We got safely home due to the brother's generosity. When Timothy took the battery to the shop, the mechanic couldn't believe Timothy had been driving it. He said the battery was one hundred percent completely dead. So the mechanic quickly installed the new battery. The battery and installation cost less than the cheap battery at the parts store, and no one had to crawl around on the cold ground to install it.

You: That's wonderful!

Me: It really was.

This is why yesterday was a wonderful day.

I still felt good about checking on an older person who was outside in the cold, windy, snowy night with a snowblower, even if it cost me a broken toe in the process

I had the opportunity to face my fear about blood pressures - and I had a determined CNA who believed me and saw for herself how the BP eventually came down.

Timothy didn't get stuck in a terrible place with a battery that would have eventually died anyway. And another brother got to feel good about himself to help (and wound up with a lobster dinner).

Now here's another blessing.

You see, I have this list of miscellaneous projects I'd rather not carrying into 2021. Except I've spent a lot of time with my family this Christmas vacation (which I wanted to do and should do), and my time is running out for getting these projects done.

Well, between the snow and the toe fracture, I won't be talking ten miles a day this week, that's for sure. So just like that, the walking time has turned into project time. Isn't that marvelous how things work out after all?

Finally, I supposed you're wondering what my calico Faith has to do with this post.

The answer to that is - nothing. She jumped up on my lap while I was attempting to write this blog.

Over My Head

I’m going out into the deep water where the fish are.

Last week, Fr. Joseph read the gospel about when Simon and his partners had fished all night and caught nothing. Jesus instructs them to cast their nets into the deep waters, and Simon, after a weak protest, complies. Of course, they caught so much fish their nets nearly broke.

Fr. Joseph said that we often try to do things our way with little or no results. However, the fish we really want to catch are out in the deep water, where it’s scary and bottomless. It’s a place we don’t usually choose to go.

For the umpteenth time in my life, I’m experiencing a complicated medical issue. The answer—again—is not a quick and easy one. The testing, diagnosis and ultimate management lies in waters I don’t want to tread. Yet, as the Ten Avenue North song Timothy keeps playing for me says, “This is where the healing begins.”

That sermon and song focuses my attention on the one who is calling me to the deep water. I close my eyes and take a shaky plunge, but I take it, confident that in that seeminly bottomless gulf of despair, I will find abundant healing.