Life

Little did I know what enlightenment would result from yet another unexpected, horrendous medical emergency.  Little did I know how much I could learn about life--even at my age!

Eight years of hip problems did not prepare me for the events of Wednesday, May 19.  The hip, originally replaced due to arthritis, had been nothing but a nightmare ever since the beginning.  A fracture and dislocation occuring three days following surgery, set up a situation that would lead to years of hip dislocations, hip revisions and ultimately, a staph infection and a year of antibiotic treatment.  Amazingly, in spite of lots of bone loss and muscle deterioration, I was still able to walk unaided.

For the past five years my hip had been fine--until Wednesday morning when I stood up and suddently my right leg compressed, seeming three inches shorter.  I was later to find out that the hip prosthesis had broken.  The instant it happened, I realized that I faced  surgery, a hip brace, disability, pain, bedpans, hospitalization, therapy, loss of dignity and months of recovery.  In an instant my life had changed, and I was fully aware of all the implications as I phoned my daughter to call 911.

Once something happens you just go through it.  There is no other option.  I was facing transportation to the big city hospital and trusting a doctor I had never met, as the surgeon who knew me well was on his honeymoon.  Arriving at the hospital, I was presented with four major complicating aspects to my needed surgery. Issues concerning risks and potential complications were laid out.  I listened increduously.

I endured the pain of the fracture from 8:00 AM on Wednesday until blissful anesthesia at the time of surgery at 1:00 PM on Thursday.  During that time I also endured two ambulance rides, hours lying in the ER before transport,  two hours of x-rays in the middle of the night, an echocardiogram of my heart and the placement of a filter near my heart to prevent blood clots reaching my lungs.

Following surgery, I experienced chest pain and was then placed in the telemetry unit of the hospital with nursing staff who apparently knew very little about post-op orthopedic patients.  My care left much to be desired.  After several days, I was transferred to my local hospital for rehabiliatation.  I face an extended recovery and rehabilitation and life-long hip precautions, limiting movement and activity.

That's a synopsis of the facts.  But the enlightenment I experienced a few days ago is the truly amazing part of my story.  I actually feel as if I see life in a new way now.  In spite of all that has happened, I am happy.  I am content.

On my first day of therapy, the thought crossed my mind, that maybe by the end of summer I would have my life back.  Like inspiration from above however, the immediate thought that then entered my mind was "This is my life" right here and right now.  As I state it now, it sounds so obvious, but I believe it has taken me 62 + years to figure this out.

I think all of my life I have lived in anticipation of that perfect time---that perfect life---that is just around the corner.  When I was a teenager I thought that my life would be perfect once I found a husband.  Then I thought life would be perfect and fulfilled once I had children.  Always for me, I imagined that my life would be just great once I lost weight and got down to a normal size.  Thinking back, there has always been that waiting for life to be......  In the more recent years when I have lived through over thirty surgeries and hospitalizations, I would always yearn for life to be "back to normal."  I always felt that only then could I get on with my life. 

This week, on the first day of therapy, I was blessed beyond imagination to realize that this is my life today.  Life is in the here and now.  My life today consists of lying in a hospital bed and not moving from that bed without assistance.  It means having other people care for my every need.  My life today has pain as a companion and the hard physical work of therapy.  My life today has phone calls and cards and visits from people who love me.  Life in the here and now offers interactions with numerous people--family, friends, patients and staff with whom to relate.  My life is today.  No matter what is happening, this is my life.

To wait and anticipate life when I can walk again, or when I am home again, or when I can go on vacation, or when my husband retires, or when everything is in order seems to me now to be missing out on the true gift I have each day.  I will never waste the gift again, thinking of the future and placing all bets for happiness and contentment there in some mythical life. 

The peace I have found since my enlightenment includes freedom from worry.  If I am living my life today, all I have to do today is enjoy and appreciate the day and the people I interact with today.  All I have to do is be aware and enjoy each moment as I live it.  There is no need to worry about whether I will walk again or do all the things I imagine a perfect 62-year-old-woman should be doing.  I am the perfect me right now.  This is my life and I cherish it.

Knowing that I am living life right now, helps me be the real me.  I don't have to be concerned about what other people think of me or think of how I look because there is no explaining to do or expectations to uphold if I believe that today my life is a precious gift just as it is.  Contentment surrounds me.  All the burdens of those expectations I put on myself are gone. 

These realizations keep flooding in.  Often previously, when seeing other people, I would make judgements about the value of their lives.  Seeing an elderly, balding, hunched-over woman in therapy this week, I realized that her life is precious just the way it is.  There she was, just living her life, trying to get stronger, and was seemingly happy to be alive.  She was living her life that day and I was living mine.  There was pure joy in that fact.  No judgements or sympathies were needed.  There was no need to wonder how much longer we would live or even what our quality of life would be.  Life is such an amazing gift.  We both had life that day and that is what counts.

No amount of therapy, or books, or philosophy, or conversation could have helped me understand the meaning of my life as much as living through the past ten days.  I believe God is working in me in a mighty way and has gifted me with this new mindfulness.  I can't stop smiling.  I am living life more fully in this bed than I have ever lived it, because I finially understand that this is the moment I have.  This moment is perfect because life is such a wonderful gift--no matter what circumstances I find myself in. 

Now that I am fully aware that my life today is precious, everything is more brilliant.  The sunshine is brighter.  The flowers are lovelier.  Smiles and faces are precious.  Feelings are real and valid and okay.  My senses are suddenly heightened as life takes on a new dimension.

My life is rich and full.  I am loved deeply by many.  I can give of myself to each person I see today.  There are new lessons and insights to learn today, and then to share as well.  I can breath and think and love and do. Oh my goodness, life is good...and I am so very happy to finally be living it with joy and with appreciation and with gusto.

This is the day the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Perseverance

Having received the telephone call that my niece had been injured in a serious automobile accident, the shock of the news hit very hard and questions swirled in my head.  What happened?  How bad?  Will she recover?  Is her pain contolled?  Thoughts came rushing in of a little girl newly arrived in this country and of days spent watching her with her new mommy and daddy.  The words "ice' catte" came to my mind.  "Ice cream" from the mouth of the tiny Korean child were words we heard over and over as we spent days together sight-seeing in southern California.  Then tears came to my eyes as I thought of her mommy and daddy right now and how their hearts must be breaking.  I thought of a beautiful,  lively, sweet, smart, wonderful young woman just starting out in life...and the tears wouldn't stop. 

As the days passed, between talking things over with the Lord and hearing updates of Julee's condition, I began to ask myself how I could help my niece. Four hours of driving would bring me to her bedside, but what then? I realized that perhaps the best gift I could give might be some words of wisdom learned through years of surgeries and hospitalizations. Maybe my experiences could give hope and expertise which only I could give. So Julee, here goes...

As trite as it may sound, remember that "this too shall pass."  No matter how intense the current situation is, it will change and improve over time.

While in the hospital, do not hesitate to ask for anything you may need including, but not limited to: medication for pain, help in doing things, having each and every question answered, etc.

Also be sure to follow all medical advice.  There is a reason for everything.  Trust the doctors and do what they say.

It is okay to be sad and angry.  If these emotions hit, then welcome them and don't be afraid of them.  Once acknowledged, let them go as you are able.  God understands all of our feelings.  He designed us to be emotional, feeling people.

On the other hand, look for joy every day.  You may find it where you least expect it.

Allow people to minister to you.  It is a gift to let people help you.  Everyone wants to know what they can do.  It is not a burden for them to be there for you--rather a joy that helps them too.

Pain will be your companion for a while.  It is actually there to help you know how to set limits.  It is also there to make you strong.  Listen to it, but also use whatever methods you can to overcome it including medication, relaxation techniques, distractions and always, always prayer.

As you may hear over and over, "take one day at a time."  It may be overused advice, but it is definately true that sometimes, moment by moment, is the only way to keep going.

If you ever start to worry about your future, remember that none of us in any situation knows the future.  Worry is fruitless.  God will be with us whatever we have to face, so try to rest in that.  I know it is easier said than done, but try--and I will too.

Accept what your body is telling you.  If it tells you to rest, then rest.  If it tells you to eat....well, you get the picture.

Find things to laugh about.  No doubt your family and friends will be there to help you with that.  It is good too, to laugh about the things that don't go just right because, as I have learned repeatedly, it is one of the best tools to see you through.

Try not to ask "WHY?" in the philisophical sense that is.  There really is no answer as to why things happen the way they do.  This is one I have learned over many years and many times of asking why.  Now, I just don't allow myself to go there.

Keep on keepin' on.  Perhaps another overused phrase, but sound advice nonetheless.  Don't give up, even on the days you might want to.

My mantra for many years has focused on acceptance.  "It is what it is" applies to many things in life.  For me, I try to accept what is and trust that God will see me through.  I have found that it is just too easy for bitterness to grow otherwise.

And finally, even though it may be difficult to realize at this moment, understand that all you are going through is making you into the person God wants you to be.  Your experiences will open doors of understanding and empathy that you may never have cultivated in any other way.

Keep living and loving and trying and hoping....and know that your Aunt Linda loves you....along with so many, many others who are hoping and praying for your speedy and complete recovery.

Keep building.  I know you will make beautiful things.

Mother-in-Law

Dear, sweet, innovative, loving, beautiful, creative, giving, crafty, thrifty, serving, fun-loving, nurturing, thoughtful!

enjoying life...

enjoying family...

enjoying friends...

and enjoying cooking for everyone... 

I could go on and on with descriptions of Sylvia, my mother-in-law.  She loved and accepted me from the first day we met in Oak Lawn when my very specical college boyfriend brought me home to meet his parents.  And now forty years later, she is gone.  But, oh the memories we have of those years--years that might not have been.  Mom had been told, prior to my ever meeting her that she was likely not going to live a long life due to a medical condition.  I have to say that I am blessed, all of these years later, to acknowledge how glad I am that the doctors were wrong.

Thank you God for giving me a second mom for all of these years!

What would my life have been without "Mom"?  Yes, you see, I never called her Sylvia or Syl.  From very early on, I called her Mom--without hesitation.  Planning my wedding included shopping for dresses with two moms, choosing the details of the ceremony and reception with two moms, sharing the fun of several wedding showers with two moms.  This photo was taken at my wedding shower at Aunt Ethel's house.  Surrounded by my two Moms, I could not have been happier.  We were young and beautiful then and could even sit down on the floor together!


The memories come flooding in of so many times we shared. 

My mother-in-law loved to cook...or...let's see...that could be better stated...   My mother-in-law loved to show her love by feeding people.  There was never a time, even this year when we went to Florida for Dad's memorial service, that she did not put food on the table as soon as we walked into the house.  It was her way of saying, "I care."  Throughout the years she tried an endless number of recipes and made up hundreds of her own. 

Mom was always on a diet.  Yes, for the past forty years that I knew her, she was always on a diet.  When I first met her, she was a member of Weight Watchers and thus she taught me some very unique cooking methods.  Weight Watcher brownies were unique indeed!  We all fought the extra pounds off and on throughout the years--in theory at least!

When you opened Mom's refigerator, it was always full!  There were numerous containers and one never knew what she had stored in each one--even when you opened a container--there was still that question--"I wonder what mom has stored in here?"  Incredibly though, she could open several of those containers and make a marvelous meal.  Her culinary skills proved truly creative and amazingly delicious!


No story-telling of mom's culinary creativeness is complete without the story of the Thanksgiving sweet potatoes.  Mom brought the baked dish for the festive dinner and we noticed symmetrical rows of black dots across the top of the casserole.  Upon asking her about them, Mom proceeded to tell us that she had kept the Easter Peeps in the freezer and had used them as the marshmallow topping.  We realized that the black dots were the eyes of the Peeps!  I don't know how many times that story has been told, but it never ceases to make us laugh--and it never ceases to make us love Mom, and her ways, all the more.


Mom loved people.  Wherever she went throughout her life, she made many friends.  She loved doing things together with others and never hesitated in lending a helping hand or bringing a pie to share.  As I have recently sorted through many pictures from her life as a young woman, I can see how much she loved life and enjoyed her family and friends from a very early age.  She came from a large, loving, exuberant family and she always had a smile on her face.


Flea markets and antique shopping became a part of my life when I entered my husband's family.  Mom and Dad were at the height of their interest in buying and selling stuff.  I enjoyed learning the craft, but never liked the work involved with setting up and breaking down a booth at a flea market.  I admired their seemingly limitless energy and enthusiasm.  I learned alot and enjoyed the times I observed and shared in their hobby.  Mom enjoyed dolls, just as I did and she was able to teach me many things about doll collecting.  She also generously gifted me with many dolls throughout the years.


Mom enjoyed nothing better throughout her life than finding a good deal.  And I must admit that she passed that trait along to her son, my hubby, and her granddaughter, my oldest daughter.  It is a marvelous trait--to be able to use money wisely--and it benefitted the family I am sure.  Shopping at a resale shop became a fun outing and was a new experience for me. Her thriftiness was apparent as she shopped for clothing, food and gifts.  During the later years, it seemed that the thrill of the find was even more important than the ultimate financial benefit. Quite a collection of food items were eventually stored (and perhaps never used--or certainly not used within the appropriate expiration dates.)


Christmas gifts from Mom and Dad were always unique.  Ask my children about their memories.  The fun was always wondering what bargain item Grandma had found during her many outings.  The gifts created so many smiles, even though they were seldom useful or wearable by "our standards" but we all loved them nonetheless.  Mom always made sure that we all had a nice monetary gift to go along with the unique bargain gifts she had found.  She enjoyed making people happy.

In spite of warnings in recent years of the ill effects of exposure to the sun, Mom loved being outside, by the pool, getting as much sun as possible.  She wore swimsuits, shorts, tank tops and flip flops well into her nineties.  Mom's skin had a deep tan and lots of freckles once she lived in Florida.  She also loved the beach, the ocean and collecting shells.   


Mom loved her grandchildren and great-grandchildren and found so much pride in each of them.  She and Dad enjoyed being a part of the lives of the kids as much as time and place would allow.  For our kids that meant that many holidays were shared with all four grandparents as both families got along so well and loved time spent together. Now that three of the grandparents are gone, I realize even more what we all had for so many years.  All were blessed with family love and encouragement.


I began this post in early November quite soon after Mom's passing, but could not finish it until now.  Time has blessedly begun its healing process and my reflections are not filled with so much pain now--rather they are colored by this morning's January brightness.  Love and joy and happy tears fill me today as I remember with love the gift I was given when God gave me a second mom to love.

Happy New Year in heaven! I hope you and Dad are walking hand in hand today and enjoying each other as much as you were when this photo was taken many years ago.

I love you and thank you for all the love you left behind for all of us!

Joy

At the end of the day, the one thing that mattered most was the big red bow.

The day of Elli's Christmas program found us all running late.  Her mommy asked me to fix her hair and so I grabbed the Christmas gift wrap ribbon and fastened it in her hair.  She ran to the mirror and declared: "I look like a big present!"  She was happy and excited and so was I.

We arrived at school a few minutes late.  The day was cold, but my little granddaughter ran into the school quickly, and I promised I would see her soon at the program.  I was nearly first in line with the other proud parents and grandparents.  I stood for fifteen minutes and then sat another thirty minutes while the excitement in the school gym mounted.  There was standing room only, and it seemed that most people had cameras in their hands as the 9:30 start time neared.  The anticipation was palpable. 

Then it happened.  The sound of bells echoed through the old gym as nearly two hundred pre-schoolers and kindergartners entered the room marching down each side while ringing their very own jingle bells.  I could find Elli easily because, of course, I was watching for the big red bow.  After all the children entered, the curtain opened, and there in front of us were all those sweet smiling baby faces.  For most of us there, I am certain, our eyes were focused on the one child that was special to us.

As all those little faces looked out at us, I must admit that a tear filled my eye.  I thought of all of the love that was in the room right at that moment.  I thought back to other Christmases when each of my four children's little faces had been looking at me in that very same school gym.  I was sitting close enough that I could hear my little Elli tell her friend that she could see her Grandma.  The moment was etched in my heart as the highlight of my day.

Oh, the day was not an easy day by any means.  An important doctor visit and news of a potential heart procedure were part of the day.  A long drive in rush hour traffic was part of the day.  Cold winter weather was part of the day.  Hurt feelings in the family were part of the day.  Sadness and anxiety were part of the day.  Tears and pain were part of the day.  Fear and uncertainty were part of the day.

In the end, however, when my mind and body quieted from the busy day, it was joy I felt. Somehow in my mind, the over-riding thought was the big red bow. 

And so it was on the 15th of December, ten days before Christmas 2009, that I received the gift God wanted me to have this season.  He wanted me to remember that no matter what--no matter how messed up the world is or how messed up I am--or how messed up relationships can be--there is joy because He sent His Son to replace all the hurts the world can throw at us.  His love for me became flesh 2000 years ago so that I could rest in Him at the end of each long day.

Yes, this Christmas, when I think of the tiny baby Jesus in a manger, I will see his little swaddling clothes all wrapped up with a big red bow.   And I will know that I have been blessed beyond comprehension.  I will be reminded once again that Jesus is the best present ever given. 

Thank you dear Heavenly Father for your gift of joy to me and all mankind. 
May the anticipation with which all the loved ones waited to see their little children sing holiday music in the old school gym pale in comparison with the anticipation with which we wait for your Son this Advent season.  Amen 

Joy to the World!

November

Darkness drifts in around four in the afternoon these days.                                           

Sale ads clog the newspaper.

Holiday events are filling my social calendar.

It is the end of November...and I feel sad.                                         

Oh, this November has been filled with stressful events it is true....but then again, isn't life, simply stated, a series of stressful events?  Yes, it is a rambling writing I find myself doing this last day of November. 

I am sad that the time of saying good-bye to my dear mother-in-law is officially over.  She died one month ago today...peacefully leaving this life as she slept one morning.

Planning where to have the memorial, and then planning all of the details took up most of the month.  My brother-in-law staying with us for a week was an amazing time of reminiscing and getting to know each other better.  Seeing extended family at a lovely memorial service was so sweet and so special.  Receiving love, support and care from many friends and family was a blessing.  Celebrating the Thanksgiving holiday and the remembrance of my in-laws 70th wedding anniversary were touching November events.  Shopping on Black Friday for a new purple Christmas dress for Elli, and then finishing up all of the holiday left-overs yesterday culminated the seemingly endless month.  All of the events came and went and were acknowledged appropriately, but now it is today...and now what?

I feel so sad.

No doubt recovering from surgery during the time of bereavement has been a strain on me.  Recovery is just plain hard work anymore.  I don't bounce back quite so easily.  And certainly cardiac concerns, stress tests, Holter monitors during this time have added stress...or...could it be...the times, the events...have created the cardiac concerns.  I will see what the doctor tells me when I visit him this afternoon.

My mother-in-law lived in Florida for the past many years.  I did not talk to her very often, but I knew she was there and I knew how much she meant to my family...of course...especially to her son, my husband.  He talked to her several times a day.  When my father-in-law died in February, it seemed that grieving was somewhat easier than it is now.  Now the grieving for both of them just seems hard.  I believe that they are together in heaven with their Lord.  I do not grieve without hope--but oh how I grieve.

We have looked at hundreds of photos over the past weeks...photos dating back into the 1800's.  Moments in time--moments in the lives of those who have gone before--shuffled around on the dining room table.  Is it possible to take in so much emotion at once?

Why is it that we think just because a person had a long life and a peaceful death that it won't hurt so much when they are gone?  I think we just try to convince ourselves of silly things like that in an attempt to accomodate the huge loss we feel.  Maybe if we say something is not so bad, we will be able to handle things better....maybe...maybe not.

It is November.  It is a gray day.  The house is silent.  I have many tasks I could choose to do.  Instead I sit at the computer hoping to make sense of the saddness I feel.

So far, it is not working.

Oh, how I miss you Mom...

Empathy

Walking through the halls of the DCAM, as it is called, I made observations.  The medical center is a place that I frequent quite often, and I can't help but think of the people I meet who frequent the place as well.

I am a perpetual patient, yesterday visiting three different clincs within the Duchossois Center for Advanced Medicine at the University of Chicago.  There was a post-op visit in the ortho clinic and a pre-op visit in the ENT clinic, and then I accompanied Mr. Jorie as he had a consultation in the neurology clinic. 

Gratefully now I can walk independently and make my way up and down the elevators and in and out of the parking garage without the aid of an assistive device. I count my blessings as I observe many people who are not as fortunate as myself...and I always wonder what the world looks like through their eyes.

The young woman and her service animal, a huge and beautiful greyhound, sat next to me in the neurology clinic.  She told me that she had MS and her dog, which she had trained herself, assisted her with her balance and helped her compensate for her lack of peripheral vision.  She was happy and seemed delighted to tell me "her story."  I wondered what the world looked like through her eyes.

Her father continued talking with me after the young woman left the waiting area.  He told me how proud of her he was and continued on with her story, telling me that she visited hospitals and nursing homes with her dog...the patients did not need to sit up or get out of bed because the dog was tall enough to put his head right up on their laps.  I wondered what the world looked like through the father's eyes.

A middle-aged mom and dad entered the neurology clinic waiting area with their teenage daughter who was permanently wheelchair bound.  They looked intent as they studied the papers in their hands.  Their daughter looked at me rather blankly and then I smiled at her.  It took her a moment, but she smiled a great big crooked smile back at me.  I wondered what the world looked like through her eyes and through the eyes of her parents who would care for her every need always.

In the ENT clinic I waited patiently and observed other people as they came and went.  In came a woman in a wheelchair being pushed presumably by her husband.  She wore a mask over her mouth and nose and her head hung low.  He looked tired.  I wondered what their world looked like.  I wondered if she had a chronic illness and he was her caregiver, or perhaps she was only temporarily ill and would be well soon.  I wondered if she could take care of him if the tables were turned.

I wondered about the mom pushing her child in a wheelchair.  The youngster looked as if he had cerebral palsy.  I wondered about the mom who was walking behind her six-year-old daughter, another apparent victim of cerebral palsy.  The happy child walked awkwardly and her mother had to tell her to watch where she was going so she would not run into people.  I wondered what the moms had thought about when they were pregnant with their children...and I wondered what they thought about each night when they fell into bed exhausted.

I wondered about the woman in the elevator who wore a scarf over her bald head, and I wondered about the vacant look on the person who accompanied her.  I wondered about the old man in the wheelchair who wore oxygen.  His IV bag hung on the pole of the chair above him.  I wondered about the woman who could only take tiny steps.  I watched her labor to walk as she left the ortho waiting area.


Patients and family members alike--we all roamed the halls of the big city hospital.  How did we look to each other?  What had brought us to the medical center?  What were we hoping when we came and what were we thinking when we left?


I never leave the medical center quite the same person as when I came.  I have been given information from my doctors that often impacts my physical well-being and my outlook for the future.  I may have been told things that will change my life.  However, often the most profound feelings I have when I leave the medical center are the thoughts and emotions I have experienced as I looked at all the people who have shared the day at the DCAM with me.   

I wonder what the world looks like to them.

Do you think they wonder what the world looks like to me?

Do you think we crossed paths for a reason?

Expectations

What do you do when your expectations have not been met...

...when you feel that someone has let you down...

...when you are disappointed in yourself for hoping against hope that things would be different...

What do you do?

Do you ask yourself if there is something you should have done or should have said differently?  Do you run things over and over in your mind?  Do you try to forget the hurt?  Do you place blame? 

Oh dear, oh dear...oh woe is me. 

No!

I refuse to be discouraged over things which I have no control.  Instead I will be grateful for what I have.  I will live and love.  I will chalk this one up, and find today to be just glorious.  I will choose to stop the loop in my brain that would bring me down.  And when I stop it, I will replace it with moments of delight that the day has brought. 

I will go to God and lay it all at His feet.

That's what I will do.

Oh yes, and I will forgive and keep on loving....and of course keep on hoping....there's always hope. 

Light is so much better than darkness.

It's good to be 62 and be so wise.

Happy Birthday to me.