My Journey: I'm Home

Prov. 7:19 "For the goodman is not at home, he is gone a long journey:"

“My faith is made stronger through trials, my strength more powerful through prayer.” ~ Joni

My journey continues: I'm home...

Friday, October 5th, we pulled up to the house. Being wheeled into the house, everything looked different, everything felt different, and to me, everything WAS different. My eyes kept darting to the left then to the right, I looked at things I had not seen for twenty-one days. The rooms either grew bigger because I wasn’t squished in a corner or shrunk smaller, ornaments were misplaced or moved, furniture rearranged or still the same, my dog Sassy was missing, as well as my son and I anxiously wasn’t sure what to make of my homecoming.

I’m home. I repeated those words in an eerie fashion, not much unlike Dorothy clicking her heels and repeating, ‘there’s no place like home’, mine was shortened but meant the same thing, I was HOME! In the safety of my husband's care. In the comfort of all I knew. In surroundings that were familiar. Home, the place where my heart was most secure.

Home to me took on new meaning. It meant no more trappings, no more nurses, no more poking and prodding, home meant to rest, for me anyway. To my husband, home for me meant he was strained with unfathomable responsibilities, new routines, new duties, more pressure, new to him caregiving. We both had major adjustments to get used to. Our wedding vow of ‘in sickness’ was now slapping us upside the head forcing us to embrace this segment.

He asked if I was ready to go into the bedroom but right at that moment, I just wanted to be placed in front of the window and stare out, repeating ever so lightly, I’m home, over and over again. No squirrels or birds to greet me, just an open cornfield that by the time I returned home was already harvested. I missed harvesting season, my highlight of country living. I call the squirrels and birds my animals and as I looked out the window, I could see my animals had not been tended to while I was away. This would soon change, just add another thing to the honey-do list mounting. This list would grow over the weeks as I was being cared for and lessen in the months, as I would heal with time and I could fend for myself. That day was still too far away to grasp.

My husband had asked if I wanted my computer but my mind was blank, still struggling with the fact that I was in new surroundings. While I missed my friends immensely and knew that they awaited word from ME, not my son saying I’m okay. They would have to wait three more days for me to make an appearance on Facebook to announce, “You can count me down but never count me out!” 

Everything in its time. It took time to adjust to home living again. It took time to acquaint myself with what it felt like being alone. It took time to understand that I was dependent on other people for my well being. Yes, God handled the majority of my spiritual care and for that, I’m grateful beyond measure but getting used to being home was a task for my family and me in and of itself. 

By the time nightfall came, fear was creeping in like a fog looming over me and holding me entombed in its presence. I held tightly to the blankets as I pulled them closer to my chin, tears were rolling down my cheek, and I began praying for a peaceful night sleep and for God to watch over me because this was a mind-numbing scary first night home. 

Steven would sit quietly at his computer tapping ever so lightly on the keys knowing I was safely in his care. I would listen to the new sounds surrounding me and map out the next days' task. As my eyes scanned the shadows on the wall, my mantra seeped from my lips, again and again, I’m home, I’m home. Now the journey of healing would begin to take hold.

Mark 5:19 "Howbeit Jesus suffered him not, but saith unto him, Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee."

Home At Last...My Story Continues

Rev. 19:1 “ And after these things I heard a great voice of much people in heaven, saying, Alleluia; Salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, unto the Lord our God:”

Home at last...

Driving home for the first time in twenty days felt strange as I had not really been in the outside air except for the three-minute drive from nursing home to the hospital across the road. I opened the window and let the cool breeze kiss my face as the sun hugged me, welcoming me. Yes, there was sun instead of clouds on this day of my release from rehab.

I was a little nervous heading home because I had no idea what uncertainty was going to meet me at the door. All I knew was that it was home, and I was finally going there, a safe haven in which to rest. What felt like months in the hospital being shuffled from hospital to nursing home, to radiation on my leg, to the primary doctor and back to the hospital, it was all coming to a nerve-wracking end because I’d have to trust my husband on a different level more than anything right now.

My husband had been put through the wringer, thrown in the dryer and left there to wrinkle. In other words, this man was frazzled beyond recognition. I could see him in there but his mind, it looked as if it had been thrown in the frying pan and left to sizzle. No one noticed this, not his mother, his sister, no one but me and my son because we had to deal with him daily.  He was forgetful, distant at times, and extremely self-centered. He was trying to regain control of the world he lost,  something that looked normal but he knew, that time was a ways off in the months that lie ahead.

In the twenty days I was in the hospital he had locked his keys in the car at least three times, he had forgotten what I asked for from home almost daily and he had slept on the hard hospital sofa for ten days, not wanting to leave me alone in the hospital but was made to leave me in a nursing home and that laid guilt on him. I’m not telling you this so you can laugh and make fun, I’m sharing this because here was a dedicated-to-his-wife man, who had very recently put his dog to rest, now made to deal with his wife, not being the beautiful dependable homemaker that he fell in love with. He was wearing thin on many levels and it hurt me to watch.

Now he was driving me home where my care would be solely left up to him. Sure, a home healthcare nurse would come by twice a week, but as you know, there are seven days in a week. I  believe any man would be anxious in this situation where twenty days ago he didn’t know if his wife was going to live or die, it looked that grim from their perspectives. Sure his mom would offer to make a meal or two, but he needed more, more that none of us could give.

Now sitting in front of the house drew tears from my eyes like water from a well. I was no longer looking out a window hoping and praying, I was home, prayers answered. The tears flowed effortlessly before I even tried getting out of the car. Hubby was removing the wheelchair from the trunk, my son came from inside offering to help and I just wanted to sit there in the car and drink the reality of it all in. “Why not unload the car and let me sit here a few minutes?”

They complied and began carrying in vases and stuffed animals, blankets and clothes, boxes and bows. I was home. The shabby little rental house isn’t all that much to look at, but it has been my home for ten years, one where I made it a flower-rimmed home that even the owner of the property had mentioned how well tended this place was. Amazing what love can turn into beauty in the midst of ugly. I was home.

I called out to Riley, the dog who wandered onto the property two years ago as a stray and never left. Riley, who was nowhere to be seen, nor had been for some days the guys said. I called out and told her to come home, I’m here. She would come eventually, she always does. The guys said that when they put food out for her, it disappeared, but they never really caught a glimpse of her. 

I had to swing my pained legs out the door. I would need to get back into the car on Friday and all the days of doctor visits, so this has to go well! I pivoted to the wheelchair, gently sat, and after taking a deep inhale was pushed forward up my RAMP, that my bro-in-law built with no questions asked (or funds for that matter!)

Once safely in the front door, my eyes opened to a cascade of tears, I just sat and bawled my eyes out, crying, “I’m home! I’m home!” There was joy and fear, anxiety and pain but there was also my Lord waiting to carry any burden I brought home with me. 

I’ll continue this story in the coming weeks as I continue healing but today being New Year's Eve, you need to know how far I’ve come and am at on this day, two short months since I was released from what I deemed ‘the hellholes’!

My cancer markers have gone down drastically, leaving the doctors scratching their heads in amazement. The markers began in September at 2775, dropped in October to 1500, then to 875 in November! What do they mean? Cancer no longer likes living in my body- for now, I move on.

When I was released from rehab on October 5th, I was on a strict no weight-bearing regimen! I could not put any weight on my left leg and minimal on my right! 
Today, I still use the wheelchair but I walk with a walker (in the house and at physical therapy) and have just started practicing with a cane! 

My doctors, plural, have admitted that it was not just the oral-chemo that has had this miraculous change in my healing. Whatever I was doing (alternatively) was obviously in play here and working on healing me! 

The radiation I received for ten days was to my femur where they said cancer had spread, radiation zapped it away. More astonishing to the doc’s was the rare way my body was handling everything. No vomiting, eating regularly, no diarrhea, no pink peeling skin, no mouth sores, no fevers, etc. I was what the nurse said, “Our poster child for what stage 4 cancer healing SHOULD look like!" Words like awesome, amazing, fascinating were frequently heard with each office visit or from anyone I came in contact with really.

This weekend for the first time in three months, I reclaimed my home! Taking my time and being ever so cautious, I dusted and vacuumed, washed, dried, folded and put away two loads of laundry. I’m releasing my husband of those duties and hopefully, he can find healing also. 

What do I say is my source of healing? My God! Simply put, my AMAZING GOD! Prayer and the support of my friends and family. I never allowed my faith to wane, my trust in the Lord grew stronger. Through each pain, every sorrowful step that brought tears to my eyes, I cried out louder to my God, Thank you, Jesus! 

Now, what do I see for the NEW YEAR? My faith growing even stronger, my sharing of this miraculous healing with any and all, and I see the colors of the rainbow flourishing in my garden this spring. I see me walking around the house talking to my animals and giving my Riley plenty of belly rubs! Yes, she appeared when she sensed I was home. (It didn’t take too long)

I’m home… home at last! 

HAPPY NEW YEAR, my Spiritual Family! I could’ve never made it without your continued prayers and support!

Pss. 30:2 “O LORD my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.”

HOME! The Real Miracle

Ex. 28:17 "And thou shalt set in it settings of stones, even four rows of stones: the first row shall be a sardius, a topaz, and a carbuncle: this shall be the first row."

Home, The Last Five Days of Rehab: The Stones

Monday came. Ray and I were awakened because she had dialysis that day. They woke her, dressed her, and had her ready for pick-up. On her ‘D’ days, she was grumpy and irritable, talking and cursing under her breath, swearing she was going to find a new home. I had the feeling since she had been there for three years, this was the best place she could find. I didn’t get all of the details on her that I would’ve liked but I knew enough to know, she was settled and she was staying. The nurses loved her and that was truly important in this place.

I woke because well, they’re pretty noisy in getting Ray dressed and ready and I want to grab someone to help me before they leave, so I was always awake at five a.m. This morning I would once again wait to receive my medications but I realize that this is the norm for this place, you get them when you get them. 

Today was the day that my voice was going to be heard, about my meds, about the disaster that happened Saturday and how this place is a pit from hell with incapacitated elderly people sprawled throughout. There were some who actually walked but honestly, the only one that I saw was Santa! But they already knew all of this and it’s really not telling them anything they don’t already know.

From around the curtain popped the one nurse from Sunday that I knew, Cathy and the aide Sondra. Cathy asked if I’d had my coffee yet today and when I said no she ran and got me one while Sondra cleaned up the previous trays from the day before. I told them that I’d be leaving this place by Friday if I could and they were like, “Awww, but you’ll be missed!” I told them that this place was becoming too traumatic a journey for me and a hindrance any healing. They both nodded and understood completely.

My physical therapy consisted of some leg lifts and exercises to prepare my leg to bend. For too many days my leg had stayed straight and felt like it would never bend again but I knew, in order to get out, I would work on bending my leg, one gentle step at a time. While physical and occupational therapy lasted a half hour tops, I worked out five times a day. My right arm was becoming stronger and stronger and helped immensely when I needed to push myself back on the bed.

Today was about Jacki and Erikka. Jacki was one of the administrators of the building as was Erikka. When Jacki came in she said she wanted to hear my side of the story about Saturday because she had heard everyone else's side. She also wanted to show me a stone. A precious purple stone, so shiny it lit the room. I looked at it and thought of Santa and his words of wisdom, ‘looking at the stone reminded me of looking at a million mountains’. This stone was chiseled from someplace special I could tell. She let me hold it and then she sat it in the sun in the window. “I can only loan this to you for the day but I want this to lift your spirits.” I had tears in my eyes as I said thank you. I always had the ladies laughing and she knew I was not in a good way this day, she knew I needed a lift and at this moment God used her to bring a beautiful stone to lift my spirit. Don’t judge me, I needed EVERYTHING I could get in that place to lift me up!

When Erikka walked in a little later carrying a bigger rock, a multi-colored stone that looked like it jumped right out of a scene of a Superman movie, I cried. Why is God bringing me these beautiful chiseled stones or is satan taunting me. I was so weak I could not tell so I prayed, for wisdom and knowledge that would lead me in the way I should go. The one main thing I received from these two visitors was the realization that I had allies in this place of doom, they were the ones who would see me out the front door! 

The nights of darkness enveloped me and sealed me in a cocoon. The voices, the shadows all played like a kaleidoscope in my head. I was hurting mentally and physically and all I had to cling to was my God in the most powerful way, alone and being tried. The stone sat in the window cove with my hospital treasures awaiting the sun so the brilliance of colors could shine through. The clouds and rain kept the stone from its glory.

We had a dilemma this week. For me to get home, I would need a ramp built so I could get into the house. Everything IN the house was already handicap ready. The other thing I needed was to get my leg bent! No matter how much I was fighting to get out of here, I could go nowhere if I couldn’t get into my car.

Erikka came into my room, sat on the side of the bed and whispered in her soft angelic voice, “Just say the word, and I can have you home today.” Erikka was a thin beautiful woman with sunrise orange hair pulled on top of her head. She glided in the room so as to look like she was floating. Sometimes her hair was flowing down her back over her modest vest of a matte color, eyes as blue as a cloudless sky.

Through tears I explained the dilemma, my leg needs to bend and we need a ramp built. I could taste home. Although I forgot what the back of the house looked like, how my flowers circled the house the last time I saw them, my Sassy dog was no longer there to greet me and Riley, the guys said, was playing hide and seek, she KNEW I wasn’t there. AND there was the fear of what home held for me. Joni was in need of a miracle!

After two weeks of discussion about a ramp being built and the cost, it seemed it just couldn't be done. Worry swept in like a Texas dust storm! They will not release me until they’re sure I have everything right at home. Steven had already taken on so much with taking care of me and running back and forth getting me stuff, he was now frazzled and ready for the hospital himself, just a different ward, if you know what I mean. Then in stepped his brother. Apparently, mom had contacted him, told him of our troubles, he contacted hubby and the only day he had off work to do the ramp was Wednesday, he could get the ramp done in a day! Now, all we needed was the weather to comply.

We had five days straight of cloudy, rainy, chilly weather after the day of me sitting in the sun seeing Santa. Forty-degrees and wind is pretty chilly, no, downright cold! I needed a miracle! Hubby was looking at the weather on his computer and he said that it looked like I’d get my miracle, a break in the weather for ONE DAY, Wednesday! It would be in the seventies! I thought, yeah, that will be a miracle.

Wednesday came, the SUN rose and peeked in my window, it reported loudly that today I’d get my miracle! I waited, I had coffee, I chatted with the nurses and assured them with great certainty that Friday I would be released! They hugged me, told me how much they’d miss me, we laughed and we cried, and we all commented on how I was the little miracle of St. John’s nursing home! 

By afternoon the day had topped out at eighty some degrees! The ramp was finished, paid for by his brother, and a pic was sent to my phone so I could show the Administrators of what this little miracle was capable of. They all agreed, Joni would be going home on Friday! Ray was mighty sad because ‘we’re fwends, right?’ I’ll never forget you, Ray! 

The one lady who saw to it that I got into this place kept telling me that my insurance had agreed to pay for another week if I needed. I laughed so hard I woke Ray up from her nap. “No thank you, I AM GOING HOME!”

On Thursday the cool temps and clouds returned, I readied for my Friday release! In the wee hours of Friday morning when I pushed the button for a nurse to bring me my meds, around the corner came Erikka, the beautiful angel who only worked day shift! She came in to do night shift JUST FOR ME! 

“Joni?” she whispered in her ever soft voice.

I sat straight up, I knew the voice. I tapped my dim light and saw her aura shining, “Erikka? Is that you,” tears came too easily when she said yes and sat next to me on the edge of my bed.

After giving me my meds, she went on in her whispering voice, “I brought you a healing stone,” she went on, “this stone was broken in half, in the morning light, you’ll see the crack and how it healed itself!”

Tears were now soaking my face and dripping down my chest. I grabbed for a kleenex, I was speechless. “You came for ME?” 

“Yes,” she said, “I prayed for you, for what to give you, I bring you the healing stone.” 

Our eyes met, mine blurred from tears and her blue eyes were brimming, with joy. She pressed the stone into my hand. “I might never see you again.” I squeaked out of my hoarse voice.

“Oh, I think you’ll see me again, you can fly!” With a tight hug and our farewells, she was gone.

Friday sunrise came and it was release day. I could’ve gotten out at nine a.m. but I chose to wait for Ray to come back from dialysis. The nurses were shocked to say the least, that someone so eager to get out, would stay, just for Ray. I stayed! Ray came back, peeked around the curtain and with her last, “Whacha doin’?” I said to her, “Waiting for you!” I gave her the last of my chips tied in a purple ribbon, her favorite color! 

The nurses came in, said their goodbyes and tears were shared by all. I made an impact on every single person I came in contact with during my ten-day stay. Hubby got the car ready, emptied my room of my contents, as I looked at the trays from the prior day and the full commode from that morning I whispered, “I won’t miss you!” 

I was wheeled to my car, passing nurses as I went, I waved with the biggest smile on my face to date… I was going HOME! 

Solar Eclipse from 8-21-17

1 Kgs.10:2 "And she came to Jerusalem with a very great train, with camels that bare spices, and very much gold, and precious stones: and when she was come to Solomon, she communed with him of all that was in her heart."

Josh. 4:8 And the children of Israel did so as Joshua commanded, and took up twelve stones out of the midst of Jordan, as the LORD spake unto Joshua, according to the number of the tribes of the children of Israel, and carried them over with them unto the place where they lodged, and laid them down there.

1 Chron. 29:2 "Now I have prepared with all my might for the house of my God the gold for things to be made of gold, and the silver for things of silver, and the brass for things of brass, the iron for things of iron, and wood for things of wood; onyx stones, and stones to be set, glistering stones, and of divers colours, and all manner of precious stones, and marble stones in abundance."

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good life! 

Week Two of Advent: Prepararation

Matthew 5:13-16 (NIV)

"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men. You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

The Second Week of Advent

I was raised Catholic, for at least eight years of my life anyway. From first to eighth grade the Advent season was a season of love in our school as we prepared for the birthday of our Lord and Savior. The season was more about the love of God than the love of gifts so that was our focus. In the morning before classes began, all of the children were called to the central hallway where we were tightly gathered. One child lit a candle and we all sang in unison, 'O come O come Emmanuel'. We would do this every day before classes began for the next four weeks. 

This was the season that our Christmas plays were put together and as a whole school we were in unison with one another, no grade was doing anything much different, we were all focused on the season in some way. Our classrooms and curriculum consisted of the Jesus Story, the memorizing of Luke, exchanging of Christmas cards, Christmas tree decoration, and all the adornment that we saw on the outside of school, during the next four weeks the holyday was magnified in the halls and classrooms of my Catholic school, St. Mary’s.

Every year since I converted from Roman Catholicism, Advent always held a special time of reflection, of coming closer to God through the lighting of candles, meditation, singing and rejoicing and, spreading love and listening, yes listening, to Him for the way I should go. My Lenten season is similar but that season is the season of renewal, advent is the season of reflection. Reflection of where you’ve been and where you’re going. A peace and contentment with the love of Christ. 

Last week my reflection consisted of Google Earth. Yeah, I know that’s odd but I went back home and looked at the home where I  grew up. The house on William street meant more to me than just the home I grew up in, the house right next door is where my cousins once lived and the house that I would eventually give birth to my first living son.

Sitting there looking at the house I grew up in on my screen, opened a floodgate of memories. The tall slender rowhome with its now brick facade but the same marble steps we used to scrub with comet to get them clean and white, were still there. The long narrow windows were present and I looked, with tears in my eyes as the kid in me remembered so many good Christmas’ decorating those windows. Memories of putting up the Christmas tree right in front of those windows, and the stairs, the winding stairs my sister and I would sit at the top of and secretly watch my mother place gifts under the tree. I’m certain our giggles gave us away. What good memories but oh the memories. 

I know I’ve written about my life and it not being the greatest childhood, (I know, I know, no one had a great childhood but mine was exceptionally bad) except for the Christmas season memories, they were always the best! My grade school was right around the corner from my house so as I visited my ‘old home’ I had to visit my old school, too. I think last week was for me, let’s walk down memory lane.

As I visited my old school the memories of the Christmas plays came flooding in along with the snowflakes I’d cut out or the Christmas construction-paper-cutout trees we decorated and placed around the halls, or the manger I built as a classroom assignment.

I remembered the Christmas play where I was in the back row of the stage standing on a milk crate in a line of students also balancing on a milk crate. Well wouldn’t you know, it would take little Joni to lose her balance and wipe out the entire row of kids as we all came crashing to the floor in giggles. The next year Sister Karl Ann made sure she placed me safely seated in the front row, with a small bongo in my hand as I played the Little Drummer Boy as we all sang.

It seemed I only allowed the good memories in as Memory Lane had changed over the years. I’ve worked so hard the past two years on letting the bad memories go into the Forgiven Pool where they could drown that they no longer held sway in my mind when Memory Lane opened up.

This is the week I prepared to face another Christmas, one in my new life seemingly a million miles away from my old life in Baltimore. Nowhere in my past did chickens and roosters come to my front door or turkeys would eat my birdseed. The only cluttered streets I see out here are when I drive two hours into Omaha where they have what they call ‘City Life’. It’s kind of funny, if only they knew what REAL city life was like. A rock formation in the far western reaches of the state constitutes a ‘mountain’ to them, and sand in front of a lake is what they deem ‘a beach’. To them, a city is where there are tall buildings and a nightlife. A nightlife that is kept at bay in the country living. They have bars out here but nothing like a real CITY has for sure.

Baltimore City's Inner Harbor

my playground as a child

Growing up in Baltimore City I lived right in the crook of the Chesapeake Bay, you know, that was a small portion of the Atlantic Ocean where there were numerous ‘beaches’ all a part of the shoreline of the ocean. Home of Fort McHenry where our national anthem was written by Francis Scott Key. The mountains in the tiny Maryland state escorted you right into Pennsylvania where even bigger and better mountains lined the landscape.

A canon at Fort McHenry facing the FSK bridge

Out here in the midwest often called, The Bible Belt, the land is flat, no matter what they tell you! You can see lightning in the sky over fifty miles away, sometimes a hundred miles away depending on the severity of the storm. The one thing I cherish out here in this new life? LOVE! The love of family is simply amazing out here. The love of God is monumental. The love of life is respected and Memory Lane to them is filled with cows, barns, dirt roads, steak, pulled pork (they call sloppy-joe) with taters and a huge pumpkin pie that grandma made from scratch.

cows on a farm off of a Nebraska dirt road

a barn, Anywhere, Ne.

In the wood framed houses of Nebraska and acres of farm, within each smokestack stood a child looking at a Christmas tree knowing what it meant to appreciate the joys of the Advent season and the welcome of love received when opening the door on Christmas Day. Yes, the road from there to here was filled with rubble but to me with every rock along the way, I saw within, a million mountains ready to climb and a summit to reach.

May the joy of the season walk you down memory lane and you remember all the love that God has poured out to you. His gift to you was His Son, His love for you immeasurable, His Light? Well, each one of us is His Light, it depends on how you see it. God Bless you all!

Luke 2:10-14 “And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Nursing Home Saga Continues

2 Samuel 7:22 (NIV) "How great you are, O Sovereign LORD! There is no one like you, and there is no God but you."

The Saga Continues

The first night at the Home didn’t go too bad but morning came and I was aroused by the lights on Ray’s side being swung into motion. Ray had to be up and dressed because she went for dialysis three days a week. It took a lot out of her physically. She’d be gone until noon at which time she’d arrive back at the Home to eat lunch. Some of the time she would eat in the room because apparently, her trip took too much out of her to be social. She was placed in her recliner and left to eat.

By five in the morning I was awake and most of the time I asked if I could be helped onto the commode. “Sure Joni, just give us a minute.” I was trying to memorize the voices that would be helping me, this day it was Laura. The minute usually took more than twenty to come back for me. I was hungry and wouldn’t eat until nine. A small cup of water sat on my table and I’d take small sips. If I asked for them to refill the cup I brought from the hospital, it would take every bit of thirty-five minutes for it to be returned like it did the day before on my arrival. I was hesitant. And no, I was not on any restrictions of food and water.

I wanted to turn my television on a couple of times but wouldn’t you know it, the previous aid sat the ‘gait belt’ on the stand right in front of the television beam needed for the remote to connect and it would not turn on. I would just sit there, looking around, alone in my thoughts. The curtains were still drawn in the mornings and I awaited the sunrise. My meds would arrive about eight o’clock to eight-thirty and I asked the nurse that day, Bird lady, if she could kindly help me to the commode, the other nurse at six o’clock had not returned. “Well let me get you your meds first.” This nurse was one of the sweet attentive nurses and also in charge of the other nurses, the Charge Nurse. With gloves on, she handed me all of my pills in one cup. My chemo pills were supposed to be taken at different times, like before I ate (which one of them was on time) but the other was supposed to be thirty-minutes AFTER I ate. I was still hungry, no food tray in sight, except the empty one from dinner the night before, and still waiting to urinate. She offered me three packs of crackers to hold me off and often offered me an Ensure drink. 

I wasn’t getting a good feel of the place even after one full day in the confines of the home. At around 9:45 I was scheduled for my radiation; that meant I had to get dressed. The physical therapists came in before eight (way before breakfast) to see what I could physically do. The one PT was very robotic. I would try to make her laugh and she would just deadpan stare at me as if to say, ‘really? I’m trying to work here!’ While the occupational therapist, Kay, was perky and friendly and loved to laugh with me. Our laughter I know could be heard echoing down the hall. When I cried, she listened, she’d hand me the box of kleenex, and it was very comforting having someone in my room to communicate with.

I couldn’t do much like get dressed, heck I hadn’t showered in twelve days and have only been sponge bathed a couple of times at the hospital. My hair was a mangled mess, and what make-up was still left on my eyes ran down my face and I was hesitant to even look in the mirror. I would go to the radiation treatment in my t-shirt and flannel, nothing else but a blanket to cover me because the days were starting to get chilly.

I could only pivot so far on my right foot with the aid of the gait belt so I didn’t fall. The cold radiation slab wanted to break my back but the nurses were very accommodating and brought pillows, a cushion with a sheet, and warmed sheets to cover me. They didn’t treat me like a toxic zombie. They treated me like a patient. They were impressed with my progress since the first round of radiation, where I was brought in on a gurney. They said I was nothing short of a miracle when I appeared in the wheelchair, stood and pivoted. They had seen the x-rays of my break and were surprised I was at the pivoting stage already. My determination to go home kept me pushing forward but never overdoing the exercises I needed to set me free.

After the session was over my husband and I usually rolled down and sat at the window with the beautiful fountain surrounded by a lush garden and benches. There were pumpkins decorating the garden for either fall or Halloween. I lost track of time. We would then wait for the bus driver to return to take us back to the home.

The weather was damp, dreary and chilly most days, at the hospital, I was wheeled by gurney to the CC. At the Home, the community Ryde (bus) bus driver would come to my room and pick me up, unless a nurse rolled me to the sitting room. I was then taken to the Cancer Center. The driver would then come back and pick me up to take me back to the home. Any time I was not alone was a cherished moment for me. Anxiety had built for the Nursing Home very quickly. I would kid with the bus driver and ask him if he wanted to break me out of this place. He’d laugh as we slowly approached the Home. He would take me back to my room if my husband wasn’t there, otherwise hubby would wheel me back to the cubbyhole of a corner in room twelve. Let me state now, the other rooms were EVENLY divided between tenants. With doors open, I could clearly see in each room I passed as envy filled my empty gut.

As I said, to lighten my time in the places I deemed a hellhole, only because it wasn’t home, I used laughter to muddle through. One time being transported on a gurney to the CC I was wheeled to the first floor, past a gift shop, past a Subway (what torture!) and then past a waiting room then out the door into the swift breeze and the only-for-me sunshine. The CC was right next door to the hospital, too close for ambulatory service. I told the guys wheeling me, as I was covered in a white sheet, looking like a dead body being transported, that I would put the sheet over my head, then when I get to the waiting room, I’d jump up, screaming. The one technician laughed so hard he almost stumbled, the other one just shook his head. These guys, as well as anyone who came in contact with me, were getting to know me and my infectious sense of humor. Laughter and optimism kept me ALIVE!

The days were passing by as slow as extra thick maple syrup could be poured from a bottle. Granted the days were full from five a.m until we turned our lights out at 8:30 as we slept until something in the night called us to awaken.

Pss. 130:5  “I wait for the LORD, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.”

The Story Begins - ER visit One

2 Cor.12:9 "And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly, therefore, will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

ER visit One...

The first ER visit was the one that got the pebble rolling wherever I was being led on this path. The ride of a lifetime was sweeping me into its arms. And so the journey began. I'm not going for time consistency right now and will get back to it at the editing phase and make the timeline more clear. After the first ER visit, everything seems a fog, it was the first time in many many years that a hardcore drug entered my body, Percocet.

I couldn't breathe that night, my chest seemed to be tightening, the air in my lungs minimal and by morning, Steven accidentally missing his alarm, called for him to be at home that day and me needing to be driven to the ER. We drove to the Emergency Room entrance, pivoting to a (hospital owned) wheelchair, making it from car to hospital sign in, the formality and tagging began. This is where my birthdate would be the most uttered words over the next couple of months.

The ER2, 3, and 4 were all maddening visits in their own stage. While in ER1 I was told what the x-ray had shown. That my disease had metastasized (spread) to my liver. "Mets to the liver," he said. I didn't blink. I sat, I stared and quite honestly thought, 'and so it begins'. Don't ask me what 'it' was, I hadn't figured that part out but was assured in the deepest depths of my being, my sacred place, that I would know, and also I would know when it was time to share.

I left the hospital in tears, only a cane in my hand and my husband by my side. A blur, that is the only way I can describe it. I felt like I wanted to shelter this news in a cocoon and allow only one or two (okay, maybe three) people know that I was now Stage 4? I think that's what they call it when it has spread. Hey, some is still a blur. I'm still in my healing phase. It was at this time that I was told that I should use a walker at all times and think about getting a wheelchair. I should also make an appointment with my GP (General Practitioner) if for my pain and my inability to breath should I need medication to continue. The spot, I was told, was pressing on my lungs, making it feel like the air was being restricted. My oxygen level was 97%. 

Rolling right along I went. I made a GP appointment and thus began the struggle between illness and law. She was hesitant in prescribing Percocet 'because of the 'LAW', so she prescribed a delicate drug that did minimal assistance to my pain. Being raised in MG's placed me in the ER again, the pain too much to bear.

ER2 found me visiting by my first ever ambulance ride. Unable to breathe and a lot of pain in my lower extremities. The meds my GP gave me, obviously were not working and little did I know that the Opioid crisis running rampant across the nation would imprison medication to aid me but could be prescribed for 30 days only, then its, "SUFFER American, your illness means nothing to us, we have a drug problem here!" My illness is defined by legalities, stigmas and the good old Almighty Dollar! UNLESS you find a caring doctor.  

This doctor had NO PROBLEM prescribing my medication. I am Stage 4, what's going to happen to me, I'm going to become addicted in a couple of months or worse overdose and die? Get in line, we're all going to die some way somehow eventually and DRUGS are NOT going to take ME down! BUT I was now given a choice. I was ‘encouraged’ to go the chemo route. I was gently nudged to an Oncologist. I also sat nodding my head in utter disbelief I was going through this. I needed my son and husband. I had no idea what to do.

I think this is where I hopped on the merry-go-round for a spell. FEAR wrapped its long fingers around my neck gripping with flames of fire. Messages, mixed and otherwise were scrambling through my head. I heard them but I could not discern. Surely enough, I was on the fatal merry-go-round from a Ray Bradbury novel.

Friends and family were getting concerned, seeing that this was my second visit to the ER after all. I made the decision to see an Oncologist. Miracles were evident and prayers were being answered at this time. Some people like instantaneous answers to prayers but I AM LIVING PROOF, prayers are answered in the most minute ways. You might not see Steven missing his alarm clock as an answered prayer, but had he been at work and I, home alone? ER visit 2 brought me to a possible third oncologist looking at my disease since last year.
Think about the ramifications had God not intervened.

To be continued…

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” 1 Peter 4:10 (NIV)

Poetry Sunday ~ Two Alpha Males

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Gen 4:9 “And the LORD said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother's keeper?”

Two Alpha Males

Two Alpha males; stiff raised tails 

Evident hate for one another

Circling around with insolent sound

not friend, not father nor brother.

They’ll never know the daily blow

my soul had to take for them.

They’ll never know the pain although

they pool in their self-made phlegm

They think they’ll undo all that’s done

though no one holds the power

to fill my soul in a crumbled soup bowl

in their passive clouded shower.

Their souls misaligned I can’t define

the mismatched ego's they boost.

No one saw the pain; my time in the rain

Abandoned was I to roost.

Will one of them dare to give a care

for the woman they leave behind?

Grieve all alone, no soul of their own

I’ll soon be gone from their mind.

It pains me to say to this very day

the males make the path they take.

No Omega to roam the place called home

their lives a shattered earthquake.

May one day they see the deserted me

while chancing my love with their dance

I’m not impressed with fist thumping chest

Drifting alone I advance.

God be with you both 

Isa. 40:6-8 “The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field:

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the LORD bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever.

End of the Year: Part III

Rom. 13:13-14 “Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying.

But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.”

End of the Year: Part III

Polar opposites. That is the only term I can come up with when I think of my family and my hubby’s family. My hubby’s dad passed away when he was twenty-five and he basically didn’t have a dad for many of those years because of a divorce of his mom and dad, but let me tell you, his family is simply amazing in their endurance of togetherness.

His great-grandparents and grandparents (on his mother’s side) were the pillars that set the stage for the future generations to come. They were deeply rooted in the love of the Lord and handed down that passion for ages to come. No not all of the family watered and nurtured the seed that was planted so long ago, but when I came into the family I could FEEL a difference in our polar opposites.

My great grandparents handed down alcoholism to the generations. Now while my hubby’s dad was a drinker, alcoholism never had a chance to define the children because the mother was so rooted in her dedication to the Lord. What the children do with the seed is totally up to them, they have free will to pick and choose where the next generation will take the family.

My family on the other hand, for generations, was defined by alcohol. I’m not talking about casual drinkers now; I’m talking about generations of alcoholics. My great-grandmother, my grandparents (on both sides from what I can tell) were very heavy drinkers, and all their kids and their kids' kids, all became drinkers or alcoholics. That was and IS my family except for the scarce few who peeled themselves AWAY from the family to become what they could on their own, like myself. I’m a survivor from way back.

Drugs and alcohol defined my life when I was very young and it was only the Hand of God that guided me in a different direction. Not my mother or father or my sister or brothers showed me a different way to live but I was determined to NOT  be like them or raise my child to grow and be a drinker. I would give him a window into the past but offer him a promise of a future, away from alcoholics.

Now many people wonder where I get my strength to battle this disease without the aid and assistance of a doctor and I can honestly tell you it is once again by the Hand of God that guides me. Live or die, my God is the guide on this long journey; always has been and always will be! I was not raised in a family that loved the Lord, we kids were basically tossed into a Catholic school and made to defend ourselves and find what we could on our own. I found God waiting to cradle me daily in life. I can’t say other members of my family were as lucky. I converted from (religious) Catholicism to (spiritual) Christianity very easily and it is the seed of the Lord that defines who I am and who I am yet to become.

You might be wondering why this is my End of the Year post? Well because on Christmas Day, the family embraced me, hugged me, allowed me to feel the love that carried them all of their lives. I feel nothing but love shining from this family. They are not perfect but to me, this is as close to perfect that I will ever see. The Mid-West farmland, the Bible belt is definitely a different place than an industrialized smoggy city like the one where I came from. Pure love is the best love here! With no ulterior motive behind the love, it becomes a blanket not much unlike the snow-covered ground. It’s a barrier of protection to the seeds below.

My blood family, on the other hand, is still continuing on the path of lies and deception. I can’t elaborate because it's not my story to tell. On Christmas Eve I went to my family FB account and wished them all a Merry Christmas, I went back the day after Christmas and not one Merry Christmas back. My family is so consumed with their selfishness, their money, their blindness that they cannot see any real love right in front of their faces except for the false products of the fabricated family that they built.

Pss. 4:2 “O ye sons of men, how long will ye turn my glory into shame? how long will ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? Selah.”

Christmas morning I called my mother to wish her a Merry Christmas and to have a good day. Later that evening I called to see how her day went. All she could talk about was how she had a good meal at my brother’s beautiful house and how she went to my sister’s and there sat my meth-head brother who is now taking advantage of my sister’s kindness in keeping him out of the frigid cold and how my other brother didn’t even send her a card and blah blah blah. Yeah, she didn’t ask how my day was and probably doesn’t want to hear how great of a family I have found and been a part of for fifteen years. 

While I sometimes miss back home, all that I really miss are the memories and to be blunt, I have them, and my story safely tucked inside my head; I don’t miss the love because my family does not know what genuine love is. I pray for them, that is all I can do. I journey on into my future that awaits me, in a polar opposite world surrounded by the path of where I was led and that is the path of LOVE! THAT, my friends, is where I find my strength! 

Pss. 18:1 “I will love thee, O LORD, my strength.” 

Holy Week ~ I See Him

Eph. 3:3-4 “How that by revelation he made known unto me the mystery; (as I wrote afore in few words, Whereby, when ye read, ye may understand my knowledge in the mystery of Christ)"

I See Him

I see Him in the light of day

I see Him in the clouds that sway

I see Him in the breeze He breathes

I see Him in the soul that seethes

I hear Him in the songs of praise

I hear Him in intuitive ways

I hear Him in the reprimand

I hear Him in the Promised Land

I touch Him in my daily need

I touch Him in diurnal deed

I touch Him with my active prayer

I touch Him with each wisp of air

I taste Him in the scented dew

I taste Him in His words so true.

I taste Him in the daily bread

I taste Him in the cross He bled

I see, hear, touch and taste

The scent of Him in honor placed

For all I see and all I do

It is my God I share with you.

Deut. 4:29 "But if from thence thou shalt seek the LORD thy God, thou shalt find him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all thy soul."

Poetry Sunday ~ No Heaven In Hell

Image by Elaine DeBoucher

Pss. 139:8 “If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.”

No Heaven in Hell

There is no heaven in hell

Only a place for sin to dwell

The liars charred in flaming fire

When hell becomes their one desire.

There is no hell in heaven

Souls transform like leaven

To rise above the earthly skies

Heaven gives home to the wise.

There is no heaven in hell

The hypocrites home a shell

Tears will be shed for the dead

Who dare not cling to the Bread.

There is no hell in Heaven

Unclean souls to beckon

Roaming through the stardust light

Bid the cosmos a sweeping g’nite.

There is no heaven in hell

The party’s over it's time to quell

Thirst you crave throughout the day

Allow our Lord to Light the way!

~ ~ ~ * * * ~ ~ ~

Isa. 35: 8-10 And a highway will be there;

    it will be called the Way of Holiness;

    it will be for those who walk on that Way.

The unclean will not journey on it;

    wicked fools will not go about on it.

 No lion will be there,

    nor any ravenous beast;

    they will not be found there.

But only the redeemed will walk there,

     and those the Lord has rescued will return.

They will enter Zion with singing;

    everlasting joy will crown their heads.

Gladness and joy will overtake them,

    and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

Poetry Sunday ~ Memory Lane

4 Ezra 4:40 (Hebrew bible) “And I took it, and drank: and when I had drunk of it, my heart uttered understanding, and wisdom grew in my breast, for my spirit strengthened my memory:”

Memory Lane

Strolling down memory lane

I peel the years away

It’s all I can do to find the pain

And heal the years at bay

I remember childhood wonders

And how they came to being

With all the plights and plunders

Is what my mind is seeing

Reeling from the hurt-filled past

A life that no one knew

Into years my rod was cast

The good ones were but few

With all the bad that shaped me

The good was carved in stone

A haunted past I had to flee

My choice to stand alone.

A home in God is what I found

As truth and Light felt right

By days of old I’ll not be bound

I’ll soar the star-filled night.

On This Day

1 Cor. 15:2 “By which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain.”

On This Day

On this day last year my dad passed away. This week has been a culmination of tears and memories leading me down memory lane. Every phone call to my mother this week has been of her rehashing the weeks that led to the final week which led to the day that my dad passed. I sat and listened allowing her to let out her grief so maybe she would find solace.

She tells me over and over again how my brother in Tennessee is still taking it hard and he let’s her know repeatedly how much he misses my father. Then there is the story of my sister who (now has his car) is driving around with a picture of my dad on the dashboard and how she wears the memorial necklace ALL the time.

I haven’t heard from ANY of my siblings since my dad passed. The last call to my brother was last year when he said, as we ended the call, to stay in touch and I did try, but as you can imagine he has his own family and doesn’t really have anything to do with any of his siblings anymore. There comes a time when the letdown is not worth the pain attributed to the lack of communication from siblings.

I can’t handle people saying over and over, “But that is your family; your blood.” I only have one dear friend who told me to just let them go and move on, the pain is not worth it, and he’s right. 

These past thirteen years haven’t been the easiest on me but I feel a peace here I’ve never had in my entire life. I feel loved; possibly for the first time an unconditional love that I only thought existed in fairytales. This time it is real because I feel it in my bones, in every essence of my being!

This week has been a stroll down memory lane. Many of the memories I’ve buried and plan to keep there but some memories good or bad surface like hot springs bubbling in anticipation of an explosion; none of which I’ll let come to fruition because I’m all about healing.

The bitterness inside will have to wait to eat away at me because this peace I feel now will not be ruined by any kind of confrontation and where my family is concerned, a simple chat is always a confrontational debate. 

Everybody grieves differently and while I wake and think about my dad daily, I don’t cry on a daily basis because I know he is at peace and don’t want us carrying on. I have to admit the only regret I have is not seeing him before he died and well, I’ll carry that with me to the grave but I’ve already told my mother that I won’t be coming back for her funeral either, not out of disrespect but out of love. After she leaves this earth, there will be not a thing tying me to that crutch of a place that tried strangling me to death all those years. She said she understands.  

That’ll be just another reason for my family to justifiably disown me and I’m okay with that since I’ve come to terms with my not being able to return. I’m at peace knowing I can move on in life alone but not ALL alone, I do have family here that has embraced me like their own and I have the most loving and understanding Heavenly Father.

So while I grieve on the one-year anniversary for my father’s death, I’m at peace knowing he is at peace and no longer suffering. While my family is back home living with regrets of what did or didn’t happen in their life, my only regret is not seeing my dad alive, one last time. And if I don’t get to see my mother one last time alive, I’ll deal with that regret when it happens. Until then… my poetry is what bound them to me eternally. 

Luke 1:79 (KJV) “To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Beauty

Mark 16:15 "And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature."

A visiting bunny

An Egret       

 Cows in the Field (Nebraska)

Life!

The End is Near ~ Part I

Pss.71:21 “Thou shalt increase my greatness, and comfort me on every side.”

The End is Near ~ Part I

Yes, that’s right, the end of 2015 is so close I can taste it watering in my mouth. After the tragic year I’ve had my tears have dried up for now, I’m not sure if it is temporary or not but I’ll go with God in prayer that He brings me out on the other end of a New Year!

My Christmas Eve was blanketed in grief and I realized how much I missed my mother and my father. With Dad gone on to better horizons, I knew the first Christmas would be the hardest but I had no idea my eyes had more tears left to give.

We had gotten word that as Steven’s aunt was driving down to Nebraska from South Dakota, she was run off the road by an eighteen-wheeler and her car was damaged, she wasn’t, physically. He didn’t stop to render assistance; he just kept on going. My goodness. My palm slapped my forehead, then my hands clasped together as I thanked the Lord for the chance to hug his aunt again.

I woke Christmas morning wanting to run to my mother and hug her but she wasn’t here, she was back home in Baltimore. I had to go on with this day and I knew I could make it; the one thing my father instilled in me was strength, and I would do it for him if not for anybody else.

Christmas day I found myself surrounded by family. This was my new family in marriage. Yes, they’ve been my family for 13 years now but this year they became ever more important to me. Sure I’ve always known that life can slip from our fingertips in the blink of an eye, but never more so than this year when I was hit with three prominent deaths in my family.

The aunt that was run off the road told me how ‘young kids’ stopped to help her. Her wheel was pretty damaged but they got it running enough for her to make it to Nebraska. I told her how I had prayed for her to have a safe journey and asked my angels to look out for her. She thanked me, she said “Oh they were there for sure!” At eighty years old you’d think she’d throw in the towel and stop these long trips but not her; I know we’ll see her again come Easter. She is one of the sweetest women I know! She reminds me of one of the nuns I grew up with in Catholic school that have a cherubic glow about them. That is her; she’s a Baptist, not a Catholic but she glows. Before I left to come home she touched my arm and said to me, “Could you ask your angels to watch me make the trip home?” She said that with such a warm gentle smile. I told her of course I would! (But in all honesty, I think she has her own angels surrounding her daily.)

I accepted the warm condolences of the family with watery eyes but not a full-blown cry. The love felt so comforting. I know cards and condolences have a special feel but a hug brings about a physical healing that I truly needed at this time.

My Christmas was full of contentment, love, sharing and caring! I’m not a person who brags and boasts of where I went and what I did or what I got; I feel like God doesn’t care about those material actions, He cares about what you FELT. Since God is LOVE, I was filled with love this Christmas and that means I got everything I ever wanted and all that I ever needed.

While the end of the year is drawing near and I DON’T make New Year’s resolutions, I anxiously await the calendar flip in earnest prayer! It WILL be a better year! It may also be a year filled with death and tragedy but I have the strength to push forward and move ahead and by God, that is just what I’m going to do!

Praise be to God!!!

Isa. 49:13 “Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains: for the LORD hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted.”