Body Language

My parents taught me to listen to my body, and they taught me how to listen to my body. Whenever i had a tummy ache, my complaint was followed by no less than 10 questions about the nature of the ache. "Are you upset about something, where does it hurt, are you hungry, did you eat too fast, are you going to throw up, does it hurt like this or does it hurt like that?" Since it has always been that way, I never was annoyed by the questions. Instead I learned to ask myself the same kinds of questions when I was not feeling right.

When my Ulcerative Colitis flared for the first time, I gave it a few days in case it was a flu-bug, but it became clear to me soon that it wasn't simply a bug. I insisted that the Drs. deal with me rather than subject me to another test and "see what happens." Unfortunately, I had no idea what was going on and no amount of self-questioning or even talking with my parents helped me figure it out. That came in the years following when I had kidney stone attacks and appendicitis. It's amazing how many things can go wrong all in the same region of your body! But, having had colitis and paying such close attention to the symptoms so I could head off a flare made it so that I knew the other things were NOT colitis. I believe I got better care because I can explain my pain and discomfort with alarming clarity.

So, in the midst of this move, I am surprised at what is going on in my body. In the 2 other times we have moved since grad-school, we have never had stability greeting us at our destination. When we moved to the UP and also to Champaign, I didn't have a job waiting for me. In fact, my employment has been unclear and a source of great stress a majority of the last 5, almost 6 years. When we moved to MI, I didn't like the house we had to live in and never really did like it. When we moved to IL, we rented an apartment sight-unseen and wound up moving out of it within 6 months. When we moved to MI, I was newly pregnant with Clayton and soon was experiencing all-day-sickness. When we moved to IL, we didn't have a good daycare situation lined up for Clayton.

All of that uncertainty in the past, and this move seems to be the most stressful for me, and I simply do not understand. We are both very excited about Kurt's new church and the possibility of being there for many years. We have a parsonage and I love it....it's very nearly my dream house. Clayton started preschool this week and it all seems to be going very well. I have a job waiting for me at a fantastic CPA firm that I am very excited about. We are going to be quite a bit closer to many of our good friends we have missed so much. (Best of all) we are only 65 miles from the great Luther College, so I can go to Juletide and any other arts activity (within reason, of course). I'm even planning to get Luther plates for my car!

So, why do I feel exhausted and yet not at all sleepy? Why do I feel like I need some serious nourishment but am not hungry at all? Why do I feel over all crummy?

I have no flippin' idea!

Back at the Ranch, 17 Months Later...

My apologies to those of you who spent months checking back to see "what's up." I never thought my hiatus would be so long.

Writing is something that seems to be helpful to me, but not something I can't live without, so it gets pushed to the side. The problem with that is two-fold: I don't have an outlet for the craziness/silliness/self-proclaimed-coolness in my head and those of you who are interested in my life don't get to hear about it.

I have to admit, I've been pretty self-absorbed these months. I've chosen to not write because I've been sick of my own thoughts or I didn't want to air personal things in a public manner, as well as other things.

So, here we are. I feel like I'm in a place less full of darkness and I'm ready to write.

Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for reading my words, trite as they might be.

The already and the not yet?

I was "home" (at my mom's house) over the weekend and several times in 36 hours, one or both of us said, "Holy crap! It's November!" or something like that.

Josh died in August, more than 2 months ago! My mom mentioned on her care page this week that time has sort of stood still since Josh's departure. While my journey these past months is no match to hers, I seem to have fallen into a similar experience and I cannot begin to understand it, let alone explain it.

So, perhaps a simple update on my world would be appropriate.

In the 16 days following Josh's diagnosis - August 8th - I traveled home twice for a total of 6 days there with my mom and siblings. I stayed 2 days more after his death. I was then back to Champaign 2 days and then back to Beloit for 5 days more. It was a whirlwind month to be sure, but it was perfectly what it needed to be.

My brother made his way back to Iraq in the early part of September only to find out he had taken and unauthorized extension of his leave. So, he had extended duty for 14 days (which meant he worked 6-10 pm on weekdays and 8-4 on weekends). He slept little and was none too happy with himself or the Army for creating such a situation. All is well though. He could have had his pay docked or lost rank, either of which would have been "worse" than extended duty. With the help of his CO, he has found his way to some professional counselors, Air Force officers, to help him with his emotional struggles. Ironically, his troubles have little to do with his experiences in the Army (which is what they're there for....to assist in dealing with being in a war), but the US Military is going to help him out and we all are more than thankful that our Patty Danny is finally making some progress with these things.

Work continues to be great. Not perfect, but really wonderful. The Firm Administrator, my "boss" is really quite a guy. Having nothing to do with his job, he is smart, passionate, creative, funny and generally great to be around. The best part is that he brings all of those things into his job, and therefore into my job. He recognizes and values highly the gifts of the people around him and works hard to make their jobs about those gifts. He's considerate enough to let me know when I'm doing something that might make my life a little difficult LONG before it ever could. I'm left plenty of opportunity to correct my foibles and they never then turn into something more that an "oops." He also is full of praise when things are done well. Not many folks are afforded the opportunity to work for such a person. Thankful isn't a big enough word...whatever the right one is: that's what I am.

The hubby and I have found a house we really love and we're in full swing of trying to get financed while trying to not get screwed...its a fun game when you're a complete idiot in the field which you are trying to excel.

Clayton is growing like a friggin' weed and I can't even believe it. Today on the way home there was some Christmas commercial on the radio with jingle-bells on the background. In the middle of a sentence (yes, he has real, honest to God complete sentences!) he said, "Listen mama! Do you hear those bells?" "Yes Clayton, I hear them." "They are such beautiful bells mama!" While we were home, my mom commented on how his conversations are real now. You can ask a question and he will answer and he will ask a question and you answer and he processes the answer and the conversation flows beautifully from one moment of interest to the next.

This is for another entry but: Whoever came up with the phrase "terrible two's" didn't have a three year old yet!!! It's like someone flipped the "defiant" switch in my child on his 3rd birthday. I sure am glad a year is only a year long...

So, it's fall and I still feel like it must be August or maybe September. I guess I was pretty smart when I named my blog. :)

The lengths God won't go to.

My brother (Patrick, 20), sister (Ivy, 16) and I have often boasted about how cool our family is and how glad we are that they are ours.

Ivy has encountered many 16 year olds, as many of us have, that are awfully selfish and don't deal well with the real stuff that life throws at us once in a while. Often when I am visiting home, she will share with me a tale of "immature" teens who are struggling with romantic relationships, trouble with their parents, bad grades, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. She always is so amazed by how “stupid” most of her peers are. She has also encountered teens (and I think this observation goes well across generational lines) who don’t deal with death and dying very well. She’s REALLY surprised by this one. Hmm, she amazes me.

It wasn’t until these last few weeks that we’ve realized something. Somehow, God has chosen to prepare us for the pain and chaos that is helping a parent die. My mom began her nursing career when I was 3 and completed her PhD on March 18, 2007. It’s been quite a road for her (and for us) and we are so proud of our mommy. When I was in elementary school, she began to build her expertise in end of life care and is now among the top experts in the country, if not in the world.

In our house, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll were part of the everyday conversation. We didn’t shy away from uncomfortable things and I believe we are better for it. As mom’s experience with terminal illnesses, bereavement, pain management, palliative care and other things grew, she began appropriately sharing things with her children. I vividly remember standing in our kitchen and having her share wonderful and amazing stories of God’s grace, the amazing human body, the will of souls and non-verbal communication between soul-mates from her many hours spent with families and patients who were transitioning from this world to the next. It was in those years I began to see death as an amazing force rather than the scary end. The end of someone’s life can be filled with peace and love if pain and symptoms are managed properly and if primary care givers are empowered to love their loved ones until the very last breath.

For me, this is the reason our family is the coolest on earth. This weekend while I was home with my mom, step-dad and two siblings, there was no panic and very little anxiety (Atavan is a wonder for patients and care-givers alikeJ). We spent as much time as we could talking with Josh, holding hands, kissing, hugging, laying next to, breathing, joking and every good thing. If you only have 2 weeks to spend with the one whom your soul loves, this is the way to do it and my mom is an example like no other.

There is no doubt there will be many tears in the months ahead and we certainly aren’t with out questions, anger and frustration. But if I could find a way to give the gift of peace and love during the death of a loved one, I would give it to everyone…since everyone goes through it at some point.

I don’t know why God chose our family for this gift, or if he gave us other gifts to make it so we could receive this gift from our mother. I know that I am grateful for whatever it is. I know I hope He will give you all similar gifts in your life; I believe that He will.

It's been a little bit of a month...

Some of you know and some of you don't...
Two very significant things have happened in my life in the last two weeks (don't worry, I still have a job). I plan to blog lots about them in pieces as I can manage, but I wanted to get everyone in the loop first.
On Tuesday, August 7 (Ivy's 16th birthday) I was in a head-on auto accident in my cute little blue Vue. I am fine, but my car did not survive. My dad likes to say it was a great object lesson for my baby sister on the day she received her license and a car. There are pictures and a "lecture" to the teenagers in my life on my facebook, if you're interested.

On Wednesday, August 8, my step-dad Josh was diagnosed with Pancreatic, lymphatic carcinoma cancer. I have been asked on more than one occasion, "What stage?" My smart a#$ dad would say "stage 12," but the serious answer is that its far past the point of a staging label. Upon scanning his abdomen, his pancreas was full of tumors, with innumerable legions in his liver (it is worth noting that this cancer has nothing to do with and isn't caused by his alcoholism). At this point, on the 21st, we are expecting him to live only days. My mom has set up a phenomenal blog with a daily entry on Josh's progression toward heaven. If you are interested:
http://www.carepages.com/ServeCarePage?cpn=joshandginger&seed=220218&ClusterNodeID=jb03&tlcx1=default&tlcx2=2357939
If you can't get in that way, let me know and I'll get you hooked up. I spent the last 4 days putting in 16 hour days of helping my mom manage the millions of meds it takes to keep someone so sick comfortable. It certainly has been a labor of love and as the oldest child, I felt a huge pull to fulfill a responsibility. However tired I am and will continue to be, I wouldn't imagine being anywhere else or doing anything else. My mother is an amazing woman who has processed these last two weeks with grace and strength the likes I have never seen before.

As I said, I plan to blog on these things in pieces as I can manage. It has been a time full of emotions and such, so there is lots to process. More later to be sure.

All my love to you all. I don't usually solicit prayers, but please pray for my family and everyone that loves Josh, this is such a huge loss for the world.
Until next time....

Lifeguards and 911

I never thought I would be compelled to tell a lifeguard to "relax, it's not that big of a deal."

A week ago Friday, July 20, Kurt, Clayton and I were at the local pool/aquatic center. After a 20 minute ordeal to convince Clayton to go down the big tube slide with me, I was relaxing in the summer sun and Kurt took Clayton to the zero-depth-entry, 1.5 foot kiddie pool (don’t worry, we sufficiently checked that the drains had covers).

I had been laying down for about 23 seconds when the energy around me changed substantially. I opened my eyes and turned to see 5 lifeguards hauling ass to the kiddie pool and one shouting, “CALL 911!” I turned a little farther in my chair to see many families being hastily ushered from the area. I made one more turn into the sun, squinted and saw Clayton sitting on the pool floor, in about 3 inches of water, Kurt towering over him and no less than 4 lifeguards in their bright red swimming suits, all trying to hold Clayton’s head still. Clayton was screaming for his daddy and wildly fighting the lifeguards’ clutches. As my sun-bleached brain put 2 and 2 together, I decided I better go see what all the fuss was about. I hesitated for a moment (what kind of mother am I, anyway?!?) knowing the guards at the gate would say something like, “I’m sorry ma’am, you can’t go in there right now.” Then I thought, well, duh, it’s not an operating room and we’re not in the pentagon (where, while on a High School social studies trip, I had to be escorted to the restroom and was scolded when I looked down a hallway we walked past), surely they won’t give me a hard time. Sure enough, though, I was told I wasn’t permitted to enter the gated kiddie pool area. Once I told them that was my son there was nothing to justify my daydreams (again, what kind of mother uses this time to daydream?!?) During this whole time, I was more and more sure that Clayton was really okay, and what the heck did they need to call 911 for? He was speaking clearly and moving all of his body (it takes a lot for a 2 year old to fight off 4 full-size people), I didn’t see any tell tale signs of a head or neck injury. All of this took about 45 seconds and the whole time I was wondering, “can we call the ambulance and tell them ‘Nevermind’?”

I made my way to the place where the will of a startled, scared 2 year old was in a furious war with 4 very dedicated teens. Needless to say, Clayton won. By the time I reached them, Kurt had been permitted to pick Clayton up, who immediately laid his head down, accomplishing the stablilty of his neck they had unsuccessfully been working for the entire time. Amidst the very high stress level and Clayton’s continued wailing, I ascertained the cause of it all: Clayton had slipped walking into the pool and bumped his head. REALLY?!? You called 911 for a 2 year-old’s bumped head?!?! Clearly, these people are not parents!

Kurt’s primary concern was keeping Clayton’s neck still (juuuuuust in case of a neck injury; always the first responder he is) so it was my job to try to help Clayton to settle down. I felt his head and he surely did have a nice goose-egg. After some low-tone encouraging words of his bravery he managed to stop crying (which surely was making his headache worse).

Then the ambulance and firetruck showed up, lights and sirens all for Clayton. We tried to make it a fun adventure for him. “The firemen and doctors are coming to see you Clayton! How fun. What color are he lights on the ambulance Clayton?” He wasn’t interested in anything but hugging his daddy and being grumpy to the lifeguards. The paramedics somehow got the message that the victim was probably fine, so they came calmly to the site. I can’t imagine what a nightmare it would have been if they had come rushing in, poking and all talking to Clayton at once. Clayton likes doctors these days, so he was okay with someone gently feeling his head and rubbing his small back and neck just to be sure everything was in the right place. We told them we didn’t think it was necessary for him to go in and we got a 2 minute run-down on the symptoms of a concusion so we could bring him in if there seems to be a problem later. We signed a legal document saying we refused treatment and it now resides appropriately in Clayton’s baby book.

A dose of Tylenol and Motrin when we got home and 30 minutes later Clayton was running, jumping, laughing and singing just like usual. He was a little cautious with laying down and table corners for a few days, but overall it was a pretty mild injury.

Lifeguard training should include a unit called “God makes small children out of rubber for a reason.”

I haven't used my brain lately.

My apologies to my regular readers. After my job hunt ended (thank goodness), Kurt and Clayton went on summer adventures and left me to watch WAAAAAAY too much TV for a week with my sister. It’s amazing how the tele can zap your ability to think altogether.

After such a week, I needed some recovery time, to let my brain reboot. Then, I started my new job and didn’t really have a chance to think about what I was thinking.

But things have calmed down a little bit, so here I am…

First of all, I truly love my new job. I must admit, the actual tasks of the job aren’t all that exciting (especially when you compare them to my last job) but the environment in which I work, and the people with whom I work are soooooo amazing, that the work is thoroughly enjoyable. A few examples:

On my third day of work, it became known that I had a tongue ring until January 2007. Rather than scolding and lecture or disbelief in such an atrocity, I was met with curiosity and humor about such a thing. Before long, there were about 10 people gathered around my cubicle asking me about the experience of getting it pierced and of living with it for nearly 8 years. They were asking me to stick out my tongue to see the hole that is left behind. The best part: 3 of the spectators were partners in the firm! This is not a stuffy CPA firm, no way!

Also on my third day of work, Wed, June 27, the air conditioner stopped working. On Wednesday evening, when it had been established the air wasn’t going to be fixed, the office manager called me and said “there is no dress code until further notice. Wear jungle appropriate attire.” He wasn’t kidding. They only got it running yesterday and it is still waaaaaay hot in here. We have been without a dress code for over a week. Granted, it isn’t busy season and there aren’t a lot of professional meetings happening these days, but still…..the powers that be are entirely concerned with the well being of their staff. They would rather explain to clients why their accountants are running around in tank tops and shorts than have us feeling crappy (which we were anyway for a couple of the hotter afternoons).

So, MHFA is going to be my home for a while and I’m very happy about that. When I made the decision to go back into the business world, I was worried that I would just be working to make it through, that I would be counting the hours until I could find another church to work in. I don’t think that’s going to be the case.

I remember how overwhelmed I was with God’s grace and providence when I found Good Shepherd. I’m feeling that way again. I don’t think it was in God’s plan for me to have to leave GSLC, but since it happened, He has now found a way for my life to still be filled with meaning and a sense of worth (and I can pay the bills too!). Yay God! Who’da thunk?!?