Rehab Continues: Sunday Came

Matt. 14:14 “And Jesus went forth, and saw a great multitude, and was moved with compassion toward them, and he healed their sick.”

Rehab… Sunday Came

Sunday morning came with the flooding of lights as we woke up. Ray and I slept all through the night and I didn’t even wake for any pain meds. The night shift was leaving and the new shift was coming in and the girls stopped by before shift change to apologize for the bad night. It was NOT their fault! The administration should have been made aware of the short staff and other aides should have been in place. Today came, as did new nurses!

As the new charge nurse came with meds, I explained I needed some crackers, I hadn’t eaten. I went on to tell her about the prior evenings' atrocity and her sympathy poured out like water from a pitcher. She said, “I’ll be right back.” And she came right back too, with a styrofoam bowl full of packets of crackers. She even came back with a cup of coffee, something I had not been offered since I arrived.

She went on to remove the breakfast, dinner and lunch trays from the day before and then proceeded to give me my meds and read my vitals. She also moved the gait belt from in front of the TV so I could watch. She opened the curtains for me and commented on the chilled gloomy rainy day. I told her that to me, every day was a sunshiny day! 
She offered, “I’ll be here all day until six, (I assume a twelve-hour shift) if you need anything just ask for Jan, okay sweetie?” I melted, the good Lord sent someone. I prayed and prayed and He sent someone!

I turned the television on and began watching the morning sermon by Charles Stanley. I’ve always liked his sermons and was glad he was the first show I saw of the day. Cable TV did not impress me in the least. For the week I usually watched rehab shows, where they remodel homes. Ray liked Dancing with the Stars, a show I usually have a gag reflex to, but she turned it so loud I was forced to turn my TV off when it came on. Other than that she would watch game shows.

Then, anxiously, I clicked for a nurse, in minutes two nurses walk into the room. (if they’re tending me, I call them nurses, they earned that title to me) One was a young blonde named Sondra. I told her my son went to school with a Sondra. After small-talk, I found out she had been in the same high school as my son and actually rode the bus with him every day. The older woman, maybe about thirty-seven (older than the twenty-year-old) said she had worked in the cafeteria of his high-school. Now God has really got my attention! What are the odds?

After our dance to the commode and more gossip, I was feeling like my old joking self. I told them of the night before through tears, mind you. I had to put something funny in there or this day would be full of tears. We shared stories, the ladies laughed, I laughed, I had a feeling I would be peeing a lot that day.

My husband would arrive later in the day to hear of the story of the night before as he sits once again, through another bout of my tears. He brought me some BK onion rings to brighten my day, so I wasn’t feeling too bad if I could eat onion rings. He also brought me a box of a medley of chips. He knew I had nothing to snack on at the 5 am wake up, he thought this would help a little. He did try everything to see that I was made comfortable but he had no control over the tears I would unleash over the next couple of days.

Ray had heard the bags of chips as hubby placed them in my side-table drawer. Like a magnet she was drawn to the chips, she wheeled over and peeked around the curtain, with a bright smile as she did every day to greet me at some point in the day and asked, “Whacha doin’?” Ray loved chips! This was her vice. She hid them in her drawer and I would hear the quiet crinkling of the opening of a bag, then the soft munching so as if not to disturb me.

“Putting these chips away that my husband brought me. Do you like chips?”

“Yeth, I thure do.” Her lisp was now growing on me, her smile infectious, the light of joy that she exuded was admirable!

“Would you like a bag or two? What kind you like?” 

“I like them Fritoth, and cheethy oneths too.”

I held up a bag of green onion potato chips, bar-b-que chips, and Fritos. “You like these?”

“Oh yeah,” she said moving her chair as close as she could into my tiny little corner of her room. Her wheelchair could only reach the bottom of my bed. She reached out as I handed three bags of chips to her and her smile lit the room. I didn’t need sunshine on that rainy day.

The physical therapist had come by earlier that day and I told her of the not-so-lovely night before too. I just couldn’t resist. Everyone that came through the door heard my side of the story. The PT lady was the weekend PT because it seems even physical therapist get a break. She was originally from Farmer’s Branch Texas and we bonded over neither of us being from Nebraska. I told her I lived in Texas for six years, she squealed, “Get outta here!” I said, yeah Dallas, close to Farmers Branch. We had a nice visit, spunky chat, and a handshake as she parted. I’d never see her again since my new plan was to be out of the place by weeks end!

As for Ray? Every person that came in the room that day all she could mention was how nice her roommate was, she’d whisper, “She gave me CHIPS.” Emphasis on the chips! Ray was the best part of this nursing home by far! Now… to look forward to getting out of this place.

Sometimes... A Rest

Job 11:18 “And thou shalt be secure, because there is hope; yea, thou shalt dig about thee, and thou shalt take thy rest in safety.”

Sometimes… I just need a rest...

I don’t know if you noticed, but I posted for five days in a row after a week of no writing. Sometimes I just need a break and sometimes I just can’t stop writing. 

It’s not what you do in this physical body that God rejoices over, it is what you do in the spirit. My spirit is waning thin so I think I need a rejuvenating withdrawal from a society that sees me as well. I tried mowing the other day a little and my hubby who could see in my face I couldn’t do it anymore, stopped me short of the finish line. I hadn’t even done a lot I just wanted to try and do one of my favorite things in the summer for exercise and that’s mow.

Sometimes it’s just not meant to be. Sometimes He just wants us to rest and I’m not one that takes sitting down lightly. I would’ve kept going, working until my knees buckled but again cool temperatures or not, mowing wasn’t in the cards. Not much IS in the cards these days except writing, that keeps me busy.

I think I’m just going to take a break from it all. I’ve said that before only to come back the next day posting and commenting but quite honestly, I’m getting bogged down. I need to stop worrying what everyone else is or isn’t doing and I need to focus on ME! Me and what I’m doing to get myself well.

I’m in a BC support group on facebook but it doesn’t really feel like a support group, it’s more information to use and rules, what you can and cannot say, what you’re allowed and not allowed to post and it is all constricting like a Boa wrapped tightly around my neck. It also highlights all that I’m doing right but moreso things I may be getting wrong. After using all the money for supplements now is not the time to tell me that maybe this or that one is just not right but I’m glad to learn as I go.

I have enough supplements to get me to January, my one year mark since my diagnosis, then I’ll be out here on my own scraping the bottom of the barrel for the most important vitamins to keep in my arsenal. I can’t stress about that now, it is too far in the distance. With everything going on in the world from fires raging, taunting regimes, earthquakes rattling, hurricanes destroying, floods, tornadoes, there isn’t much ground left for society as a whole to hide.

Me, I don’t want to hide from it all, I just want to see and appreciate all the beauty in front of my eyes. From the silky blades of grass, to inhaling the newly mowed lawn, to playing with the hose a few more times before it gets too cold to do such an activity, to watching the falling leaves. Life is too short to worry about the physical, I’m going to inscribe in my soul the spiritual that will sustain me to the end.

I’ve noticed something with this disease, people are more sympathetic with you when you’re bald and accepting chemo, struggling in pain, vomiting, and accepting chemotherapy. Maybe getting sliced open appeals to some and it helps people sympathize easier. But when you’re going holistic, you appear well so nobody really gives a flying fig. Oh don’t get me wrong, some do, but when a friend writes on her wall, “Wouldn’t you like to just be able to slap some sense into people, this is a serious disease.” I know it was aimed at me and it’s okay, I have sense; I’m choosing to say NO TO DRUGS! That’s the best sense available to me. I’m healing and will continue to do so.

I’m glad that the drugs work for some. I’m glad people are living healthy lives and breathing with no problems from their chemo. That’s great it worked for THEM. It would never work for me. It just wouldn’t! I’m going to climb on my high horse now, then ride off into the sunset, and settle down with a good book and wait for winter to wrap me in its arms. If I think of something to write, like after the hurricane season finishes wiping out the states. God bless you all! I understand wanting to do it your way! Ride out the storm, you live you live, you die…oh well, at least you lived. That’s exactly how I feel. 

Godspeed…

Pss 55:6 “And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest.”

Competitive By Nature

2 Corinthians 4:8-9 (NIV) “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” 

I called my mother the other evening, like I always do every night and twice on Saturday and Sunday, but this time it went to the answering machine as she waited to hear my voice and then pick it up. 

I asked, “Why the machine. You have caller ID?”
She retorted, “Why all the questions, you writing a book?”
I sarcastically replied, “Well yes, yes I am.”

I could tell right away she was in ‘a mood’ the kind I tolerate since my dad has passed and she clings to so much bitterness, for his death and for her being left alive, alone. I just try and be the relief pitcher and comfort her in any way I can. Since I’m the only child of six who talks to her on a daily basis, I take the brunt of her moods from a distance. 

To be honest, I cherish these phone calls to my mother because I know there will come a day when I don’t hear her voice on the other end and I’ll be alone without any communication from the family I once had. I don’t miss my family like I do my mother because we were never really a family in any sense of the word; we were competitors in the field.

You see, when I was born, I was the sixth child of a family all vying for a prize, the prize being the attention of my mother and father. My sister had held the baby position for three years and here I come into the fray as the fresh living competitor baby, the new attention getter, the new baby with a nickname, the baby that would, in her mind, replace the love my parents gave to her, and so she set out my demise from the day I was born. 

I can tell it was a bitter competition to her from the stories she’s told all of her life, I guess in a way to make me feel guilty for being alive? A way for maybe getting me to go far away from the family so she could take her position as the center of attention? I don’t know, I just surmise an intuitive guess. And yes, my writing will hold the story whether they ever see it or not, this is MY story, not theirs; my truth, not their jumbled mess of perception.

Granted I was a tattle-tale brat but I did not deserve, at three-years-old to be pushed on a swing so high that I’d fear for my life and jump off the swing to be caught by a chain link fence, the kind with the barbed-wire looking top? Yes, I have the ugly memory and nasty scar to prove it and over the years my sister vehemently denied it was her doing the pushing but my brother. Gee, that didn’t make me feel any better.

She gave me my first cigarette at eight, my first joint of marijuana at I don’t know what age, the damage is real though, it was young. My first beer, my first jump in a raging river, my first kiss from some boy she set me up with. Also the first voice I overheard whispering when I was sixteen, “She should’ve just had an abortion.”

This was a real competition, not some contrived imagination of my overly drugged mind that went right into my twenties when at the time I was closer to my brother and she wanted that position but he didn’t want a relationship with her. My entire family fought with the battle of Dad loved me more, mother liked you best, neither of them liked me and there I was the baby, the relief pitcher who would try to bring a broken vase to the table and try to glue the pieces back together. And it bled into my late thirties when I finally left home and left all the bad memories behind and never looked back.

While the world is busy bustling with sharing all the beautiful moments of their family, pictures abounding of happy times, I often wonder when people say that they too had a hard life or trying times where are THOSE images? Mine are either in a box somewhere or lost in the portals of time. I understand it though when people aren’t as ready and willing to share their trying times as I am. It’s okay, we all have our own way of healing or hiding behind masks.

People are not willing to share the ugly times, that’s ‘their little secret’ that they’ll carry with them to the grave. Sometimes they’d rather people only see the good and happy posts spread out on Instagram and Facebook so that people visually see the good life they had or have when deep down the pain and hurt comes out in snide remarks.

I myself sometimes use humor to hide my pain but really it doesn’t hide it too well, I think humor, to ME, is just a form of medicine I use to help with my healing. I love to laugh, I love to see people laugh, I love to share my pain and most of all my GROWTH, through smiles and laughter. Some may see it as me letting too many skeletons dance freely out of the closet but hey, we all need to let them free some time or another, I’d rather do it sooner rather than later when they decide to jump out of the closet as regrets. 

It all boiled to a steep head last year in October when my father passed away. I no longer wanted to be the relief pitcher. The last straw was the poem that I wrote for my father to hear on his deathbed since I couldn’t be there for one of the hardest days in my life. My sister held the poem in her hand and withheld reading it, a scar that singes burning hot to this day at just the thought. 

Don’t say I’m mean and unforgiving for not sharing any love for a lost family. Respect me for the forgiveness I HAVE shown and chose to move on from it all, in a healing place for ME! The best thing I carry with me from my past is my son! And I will continue to give him the best part of me and we’ll have our very own memories, good ones that outweigh the bad ones. He said to me this morning, "You're not a phony like everybody else, you lay things out in the open."

Wow! Thank you, son. Not only does he see the real me, YOU see the real me too! Nothing phony or fake here, people!  

Just sayin'

Sometimes people struggle. They struggle with following, with believing and with faith. Sure it’s so easy to not concern yourself and just go with the flow like everyone else but let me tell you, conforming to the world makes up a good portion of the struggle.

I hear from many who say, “I pray, but He never answers,” or “I have faith, but I’m scared,” or “I believe!” but have no follow through with their belief.

Number one, when you pray, He always answers, it just might not be the answer YOU wanted, but mark my word, He heard you and answered. You need to be aware of the blessing and SEE it as a blessing, not an unanswered prayer.

Number two, having faith is just that, faith in the unknown and unexpected. Faith is NOT fearing, it is washing away all doubt in not knowing, and expecting the unexpected to happen. I say unexpected because we sometimes expect a situation to go one way (our  way) and it veers off and goes another way (unexpected, God’s way.)

Number three, you can’t just be a believer. If you sit at home with words tucked in your pocket, “I believe, I have faith, I pray, I read the bible.” To be bluntly honest here, they are empty words which equals an empty faith.

To believe, you must embrace the life God has set before you. To struggle is a part of that belief and as your ACTIONS carry you through the struggle, you will be either a stronger person or a weaker person.

Take a look at number three again. You believe, have faith, pray, and read the bible, right? But what do your ACTIONS say? Are you belittling people, ‘that good for nothing, look what he’s doing now,’ ranting, ‘can you believe this? I just had to share so you can rant with me,’ gossiping, ‘can you believe she did/said this or that?’

Feeling good getting all those pent up frustrations off your chest? Well no wonder you’re struggling. Your eyes are not on the Lord just because your words declared it. You’re struggling; fighting with the enemy and he has the upper hand because it is evident in your actions.

Now some will read this and state quite firmly, I’m not struggling. But let me ask, are you the same person you were years ago? Have you actively sought to change? Do you find yourself still hanging on the media and their words? Do you still engage at taking those words as truth then judging the person they’re speaking of?

Are you focused on God?

I can scan an entire news feed without forming a disgruntled opinion. I take my eyes off the screen, look out the window and thank the Lord for a beautiful sunrise. When I read about suffering and hostilities in the world, again, I gaze out the window to see the beauty in the day. When I see women demoralizing themselves, I pray for them, I don’t click that which satan has put before me. I’m not a ‘need to click, see, watch, laugh, judge’ kind of person. I’m a God person and everything that comes forth of me will be to glorify God. Nothing more, nothing less.

Believing and having faith is trusting that God knows what He’s doing. He didn’t need your help in creating you, He certainly doesn’t need your help in getting you to the right place on your journey.

Being a God person is knowing the difference in satan and God, period. When your eyes are always on God (although you’ll be persecuted) satan loses his strength in getting to you (not that he won’t try) but as a God person, you wield armor no other force can get through, and that is the armor of God.

Putting PHYSICAL ACTIONS behind your following, faith, belief, prayer, and what you read. Typing on a keyboard is not the physical action I’m referring to either.

Just sayin’

A Blogger No More

Job 13: 13 Hold your peace, let me alone, that I may speak, and let come on me what will.

***

I know I’ve whined and moaned about this before, but something is telling me to just give it up. Why?

1) I find no joy in blogging anymore – as you can tell probably from my non-posting?

2) I don’t care to write for myself anymore – tired of pretending there’s an audience out there that likes reading me.

3) I used to find joy in blogging, sharing, comments and meeting friends: I have it no more – all has become silent like the caverns in my mind.

4) Writing has dwindled to a grocery list—and what I do write is probably taken as malicious and misguided.

5) When I find joy in writing, or have something the emptiness might enjoy, I’ll be sure to share.

I don’t like summer by any means whatsoever. I love winter, I enjoy spring and fall is a pleasant season. But summer is just a season where everybody wears next to nothing, prances around for all the voyeurs to see. It is a season of nothingness and shows people for their true colors for sure.

When I go shopping or out in public—even in the summer, my body is covered. Why? Because it is my sacred temple and it is not for people to gawk at, look down upon, or to lust after, it is my temple! Sacred!

I can’t go out and enjoy my garden because the flies think I’m the next best thing to a dead carcass, I’m there to eat. I slather my body in vanilla – which I read was good to deter flies, but when you forget to put it on, you realize that vanilla REALLY works! But then there’s the heat, the long drawn out days of heat. Lounging in the heat is no fun! The flies find the one spot you missed and gnaw at you like an over-ripe peach.

My work in the yard is not enjoyable because I need someone to start the old mower for me and with my beau working and Adam in the healing stages of a surgical procedure, it is all falling on my hands which takes a toll on my mind, body and soul. Mowing is my meditative release from this ugly world I live in.

Sure I see the beauty in each day. Wake up with a renewed love of this world as I watch the birds drink from my homemade birdbath, land on a branch and specifically tweet to me a big thank you!

But I think my long summer is drawn out by being homebound, seeing the outside world once or twice a month and when I do see it, I want to run back home and curl up on the sofa. While my man may enjoy the heat, working on Saturdays and Sundays, missing church, finding pleasure in being out and around people, and being able to shop at his leisure; I find myself in a sheltered world of no movement, shades drawn (so the sun don’t heat the house) and no AC because it costs too much.

I’m alone to do what; clean, wash clothes, my every day mundane chores? Maybe then I could write? No, writing has been sucked out of me like everything else, so I’ll just dwindle until something pulls me back into the realm of the living. For now…I’ll be a  ‘nilla zombie.

Be well people.

Pss. 102: 7 I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house top.

All Tied Up?

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble." - 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
***

Did you ever notice people with the means to help, don’t. And the people without the means, do? Or at least want to. I think I remain poor because even if I was a popular published novel writer, my money would be flung out the window, handed off to people who need it!

I have family members who make more than $100,00 thousand a year, and ones who make less than $25,000 a year. Wanna know who helps in our dire time of need? Yup you guessed it, the ones with the least amount to give. And if you ask the ones with more than enough money for help? They tell you they don’t have it, their money is all tied up. What does that even mean? Oh wait...it is in savings for THEM, so THEY have a good life, for the rest of their lives. Poo, on those who have nothing, get a job they say. Well! I don’t need you, I have GOD, and YOU have your place carved out for you.

More so than that, the ones without don’t even need to ask if I need help. Have you ever seen the man with raggedy clothing on the street corner, cup in hand, sign on ground, NEED FOOD, some call them ‘bums’, some say they are derelicts, some whisper, ‘street trash’, I say the are ‘homeless’ victims.

Why victims? Because they became a victim of circumstance. Please don’t give me the story on these men and women, how they are just out for booze. Sucking off of ‘good taxpaying people’. Do you hear how wrong that sounds? I grew up in the city, Baltimore city, and the homeless could be seen sleeping on top of steaming sewer drains, they will carry their ‘home’ with them, usually a cardboard box, a lot of times a shopping cart filled with a coat and boxes that they would roll around the streets from one place to the next.

It was always so sad to see these men AND women clinging to the very edge of society. A misfit among the human race, pushed there by disease? Hard times? Society? Or Family? I have been on the edge of that line numerous times but God has always sought someone to reach out to me and bring me something, anything in my time of NEED, not want. God is the only saving Grace during these hard times of need, and having real Christians surround you and pull you together into their arms, that is what you NEED!

Sure we all want a nice home, a warm home with a car outside waiting for us to jump in, clothes on our backs, and food on our plates. We also want that new blouse we saw at JCPenny’s, or that purse we saw at Macy’s, or the new sofa we saw at the Furniture Store. But those are all WANTS and nothing that you really NEED.

I NEED my state of mental health, and the Greed Factory is not where I’ll ever visit anytime soon. You enjoy your time there and if you see someone who resembles Jesus, in need, tell him you can’t help, “YOUR money is all tied up.” See how that works for you.

Hebrews 13:1-2 "Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares".

But among you it will be different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must be the slave of everyone else. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Mk 10:43-45 (NLT)