Hurricanes, Hospitals and Nurses

Children's Hospital Shout-out Time!

Hospitals and other heroes who go above and beyond…

Ever since spending an inordinate amount of time in three different children’s hospitals during my son’s fight with leukemia, I’ve had a soft-spot for nurses, social workers and other personnel who dedicate their lives to not only saving children, but improving their quality of life in the process.

They routinely go above-and-beyond, and you can read some of these stories here:

We’ve all been watching new of Hurricanes Harvey and Irma and their very unhappy trail across the ocean onto land.  I’ve seen posts and pictures and news of ugly havoc and beautiful brotherhood on the news.  This morning, I came across this news of Hurricane Irma and a tear-inducing story.

www.cnn.com has this wonderful picture of 3-year-old Willow in a Children’s Hospitals.

Irma threatens birthday for 3-year old with leukemia, until nurses step in

 

Go ahead, take the time to click on this story and share the tears and the joy produced by nurses who sheltered a family stuck from the hurricane, trying to celebrate a birthday all while reeling from a brand-new-and-therefore-terrifying diagnosis of Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia.

Willow turned three with only her mom present, because Hurricane Irma trapped the family elsewhere.  However, the staff at the hospital banded together to ensure a joyful birthday party that won’t soon be forgotten.  They made sure Willow and mom feel loved and valued and, for just a moment, “normal.”

Often, over the past couple of weeks, I’ve heard the media present stories expressing surprise at the beauty of people pulling together and the loveliness of strangers reaching out to care.  Truthfully, I’m sad that we, as a nation, are so shocked.

After battling Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia with my son, I’m not surprised.  We experienced love and care from strangers and family both and consider ourselves incredibly blessed by people from all three hospitals in which we found ourselves.

Mondays at Blessed But Stressed are for inspiration, and for me there is not much more inspiring than nurses working tirelessly to save lives or doctors who take the time to pin toys to their stethoscopes or social workers who bring in dolls to explain medical procedures.

It shouldn’t take a hurricane for us to recognize true bravery and heroism.

Hospitals should be on the news daily for their amazing work with children!

Here’s one mom who wants to just take a moment to say thanks!

Who would you like to thank, today?

It shouldn't take a hurricane to recognize true bravery and heroism #blessedbutstressed #ALL… Click To Tweet

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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Work: When Teaching is a Gift

An FMF Prompt

Work can be grueling and it can be a gift

Today’s prompt is: WORK

 

I received a gift at work today.

My award-winning day did not start when I forgot to grab my school keys off my dresser as I headed out on my 45 minute drive to teach 7th and 8th graders.

It wasn’t the  middle-schoolers’ insatiable desire to learn that was wrapped in a bow.

Nor was it the several visits from my principal to deal with…well…you know (did I mention I teach 7th and 8th grade?).

No surprising tray of culinary delights awaited my lunch-duty supervision while 7th grade boys waited impatiently for a turn at basketball.

The decision of some boys to bring two weeks of smoldering resentment to a full-roiling boil today was definitely no reward (yeah…that 7th and 8th grade thing again).

The gift did not involve the surprising and first-time-ever visit of the Educational Superintendent in the midst of a catch-up period (all those 7th and 8th graders behind on work take a few moments to try to catch up while others gleefully punch at the keyboard on websites that practice memorizing states or spelling words).

There was no present of free-time – instead my long day involved the extra bonus of sponsoring year-book after school for a couple of hours.

While commiserating with my co-workers was nice, it did not feel like enough of a bonus to offset the sweltering heat of the gym, nor the smoke-filled skies.

Some moments are painful and grueling, others are beautiful and wrapped with a bow!

My gift came as a complete surprise, wrapped up in the maturity of the high-school class I teach.

It came because I had to step out to deal with a…you know…7th and 8th grade issue…right then.

I stood outside the doorway,  just seconds after the bell rang, taking a few deep breaths, preparing to give these ancient and wise 9th and 10th graders a list of directions they could follow while the school secretary supervised them.

Hearing noises, I pasted on a smile and pulled open the door.  I stopped and beheld the best gift a middle/high school teacher can receive.  My whole class was gathered together – one student at the board taking lead, while others threw out ideas and brainstormed.  This is our fourth week of school and every Thursday we do the same thing.

My gift.

They not only knew what to do, but they DID it.  They not only were completing the task, they were smiling, and happy, and in control and focused.

I stood there watching for a moment, while tears gathered in my eyes.   See, this group, not so long ago, were middle-school kids – crazy and wild and out-of-control.  They were fun, noisy, creative and gossipy.  Childish and adultish by turns, along with kind and rude: singing songs and making farting noises (or the real thing) at will.

This class used to be that way.  But today, they knew what to do.  They took control.  Cooperatively they set out to do what they knew was expected – and what was expected is for them to plan and set up the chapel/assembly/worship  program for tomorrow.  Today, children became leaders.

This was my gift today – and THIS is why I teach.

When #teaching becomes a gift #fmfparty #five-minute-friday #education Click To Tweet

 

In the Midst of Catastrophe and Crisis

You do what you need to do

When catastrophe hits and crises arise, it’s perfectly okay to Just Do You!

When catastrophe strikes and crises arise, caregivers and survivors often struggle with guilt and surreal feelings of isolation and wonder that life moves on around us.

Sometimes we are caught so deeply in our own battle that we forget others face different fights. But even harder –  we’re bewildered that some people obliviously go on as if nothing is wrong. That one is hard to take!

Hurricane Harvey blew into the world’s riveted attention in a catastrophic way.

We all watch and wonder at the overwhelming flooding – both literally with water, and figuratively with loss.  Many people are praying and thousands of people are helping.  Meanwhile the people in south Texas  are doing what survivor’s do: working together in amazing ways to get through this.

Friday, Kirsten Oliphant, a fellow blogger and a hurricane Harvey survivor from Katy, TX, posted this:

“It’s not that I don’t care what’s going on in the world. It’s not that I’m not happy for other people or sad for other sad events. It’s not that I don’t hope for some version of “normal” in my life.

BUT. If there were a Hide Everything But Posts about Helping People Affected by Harvey option, I’d turn it on.

I’m just not ready for the outside world yet. Not that people shouldn’t be living it. They should! I just kinda can’t handle it right now.”

This hit me right between the eyes and sank deep into my soul!

I remember those days – facing the same four hospital walls day after day while my four-year-old lay fought Leukemia for his life. My mind jumps to a visit from family that meant the world to me.  They dropped everything and came to visit. Andrew had received blood the night before and so was happy and communicative as the family sat around discussing their plans.  They’d driven down from a small town to the big city where the Children’s Hospital housed us.  They were chatting and I zoned out, clicking back into the conversation to hear them mentioning hitting stores for back-to-school shopping.

It startled me – this mundane thing that people out in the real world were doing.  Shopping, especially Back-to-school shopping.  How could that be?  We had life and death stuff going on right here and frankly, I couldn’t think of anything else.  I nodded while the talk flowed around me.  It made sense.  Of course people needed to get their kids back into school.  Why not combine a a hospital visit for a nephew with a shopping spree in the city.  My mind came to grips with this shopping expedition and tuned back into the conversation.

“…and then we’re going to go to the river with Jim and Sarah and go jet-skiing this afternoon!  It should be fun!”

Wait.  What did they say?

They’re going JET-SKIING?  Is this even a thing?  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.  While I could come to grips with necessary shopping,  or playing with friends, doing things that weren’t just fun, but extra fun was to bizarre for my mind to even process.  I nodded and smiled (I hope) while my mind struggled with alternate reality.

I wasn’t ready to let the outside world in because this world – this moment, this fight – were all I could handle.

That felt weird.  And selfish.  And uncaring.  I didn’t want to hear about fun my family was having.  When my mom told me about someone else fighting cancer, I sympathized, but cringed.  It was SO HARD to handle.

Awful.  I felt like an awful person that underwent an overnight transformation from someone who always cared about others to someone who just focused on this moment, this medical procedure and this fight.

Kiki said it so well, it’s “not that people shouldn’t be living it.  They should!  I just can’t handle it.”

Well, here’s what my three-and-a-half year leukemia battle for my son’s life taught me.  It’s all right everyone.  Handle what you can handle and just let the rest go until God tells you to take it up again.  Don’t feel guilty because if you try to take on more, you might just fall apart.

In catastrophe and crisis, it's ok to handle what you can deal with and shut the rest out!… Click To Tweet

God made our amazing bodies and brains to shut down what’s not necessary in the fight-or-flight process and when we SHOULD handle more, we will.

Until that moment just relax and let God handle things for you.  No guilt – no shame – no apologies.

You just do you.

Just Do You #hurricaneharvey #caregiving Click To Tweet

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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What If and If Only

Caregiver burdens we must stop carrying

what if

What if we let God handle our doubts and fears

As I stood under the spray of my shower yesterday morning, the what if moments of our cancer journey replayed through my mind.

The remonstrating hospital staff telling me that I shouldn’t do that repeated in my head as well.  But my son bleeding in his tears haunts me and I’ve always wondered how I let him get that sick.  The bruises spreading like wildfire as I drove the hour to the hospital have sent their own bruises into my mind, leaving black holes of self-doubt.  The wondering voices of nurses who came back to see us our third and fourth week in the hospital, speaking in awe that Andrew was “still with us” as they hadn’t “thought he would survive the first few days” have sounded like a gong of “bad mother” through my head.

No matter how many times the doctors said not to, I always wondered, “What if…”

Andrew on his way to chemo

What if I had brought Andrew into the doctor earlier.  If only I had known the bruises wouldn’t make doctors think of abuse, but of cancer.  If only we hadn’t all caught that flu bug.  What if I had taken Andrew to the doctor when he first began throwing up?

Gianmarco

This week is a sad, confusing and rejoicing week for our family.  It was thirteen years ago this week that my four-year-old Andrew was diagnosed with leukemia – a terrible day, an awful week, a horrible month and a terrifying time.  Also, a friend (found through this website) had her oldest son (Gianmarco) diagnosed with leukemia this week two years ago.  Sadly, he didn’t survive the fight.  Another little girl (Julianna)  I’ve been praying for many times a day (click here to read a post), passed away on Friday, the valiant victim of DIPG.

Julianna

The difference for this caregiving mom is that my son is a survivor.  He didn’t survive because of anything I did or didn’t do, nor did those others pass away because of anything done or not done.  It’s the ugliness of cancer. Our battle wasn’t easy, and at times it still isn’t – but we’re out the other side of that cancer fight.  For the two moms mentioned above?  My heart aches for theirs as they mourn the loss of their beautiful children.

I couldn’t help myself this weekend, I’ve been thinking about the what if and if only thoughts that have plagued me.

I wondered about Gianmarco’s mom and Julianna’s mom and I know that these thoughts hound them too and I prayed for peace.

After thirteen years of beating on myself (logic says not to, but emotion often doesn’t agree), I heard something different yesterday.

Several doctors told me (all through the three and a half years of treatment) that if I had brought Andrew in earlier, they would have said the same thing I did.  “Oh, your family has had the flu?  Get this boy some juice and let’s deal with the anemia brought on by all the throwing up.  He’s a healthy kid, he’ll be fine.”

Suddenly I actually HEARD that.  As that memory popped into my head, so did the distinct realization that had I taken Andrew into the doctor earlier, that doctor would have told me the above lines.  After which, I would have gone home and proceeded to treat my boy as I was: juice, water, rest, anti-nausea medication and lots of cuddles.  I would not have gone in again very soon – not wanting to over-react to throwing up, paleness, and listlessness.

What if I had gone in earlier to a doctor, like I’ve been kicking myself for not doing?

I would be, right now, so ANGRY at that doctor for not catching the leukemia.  They all assured me it was acute and extremely fast and hard to predict until it was almost too late.

Immediately my what if and if only mantra that I’ve clung to for years changed tune.  First, catching leukemia early doesn’t mean you don’t have leukemia.  Second, What if my waiting saved his life because he was diagnosed and received help just barely in time.  Literally one day later and he might not have made it.

Oh.my.word.

If I had gone in earlier, I might have gone in the second time too late.

The Bible tells us that to EVERYTHING there is a season.  Not my timetable – His.  God says that He’s got the whole world in His hands.  Not mine – His.  Jesus said that He holds the keys to the grave.  Not my keys – His.

I know that.  Logically.  But I too often forget and try to place things on my own shoulders that are designed for Jesus to carry for me.

Caregivers, moms and dads, loved ones – let go of those what if and if only moments.  We can’t go back and change them anyway, and maybe things worked the way they were supposed to in spite of our limited understanding.  Our lives don’t always feel good (please keep Gianmarco and Julianna’s families in your prayers) but God ALWAYS has our best interest in His plans.

What if we let Him keep control?

Click To Tweet

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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Take Care of Yourself: Six Ways to Avoid Caregiver Burnout

While still caring for your patient

In the middle of taking care of our loved one, we often don’t take care of ourselves.

Cancer Caregiving 101: Take Care of Yourself and Prevent Caregiver Burnout

When others offer to entertain your loved one, take time to go for a walk or relax by yourself–DON’T do housework!

“Now you must realize,” the doctor straightened the papers into the already thick folder as he finished summarizing the diagnosis, treatment protocol and prognosis, “with a best-case scenario, we’re in for a long haul. You two must take care of yourselves, too. This is not easy on parents, either, and you can’t let yourselves get run down.”

The nurse bustled into the room, loaded with scary looking objects which she unloaded in the room’s small bathroom. “So, you cannot touch this hat in the toilet, we can’t have his samples contaminated. Also, be sure you don’t let any urine touch you when you help your little guy go – because it will burn a hole in your skin.” There followed some more directions of what not to touch in the room and what not to do and what I needed to help Andrew with and what I needed to remember. As she breezed back out the door, having set these little traps all over the room, she paused in the doorway, “Mrs. Bovee, you need to remember to take care of yourself through this…this will be a long, tough road.”

After a two-week stint in the hospital with a feverish and neutropenic boy, I was home, frantically trying to

recuperate the family from separation, restore the house from chaos and prevent the laundry piles from taking over the world. As I sorted and started a load, a neighbor followed me from washing machine to dryer, not helping, but faithfully entreating me that I needed to “take care of yourself! Carol, you are just working too hard! You need to let go!”

I stumbled along beside the gurney as we returned from the spinal tap, wiping my tired eyes and unsuccessfully hiding a yawn behind my hand. The nurse, pushing a dopey Andrew, smiled sympathetically at me. “Carol, I hope you’re taking care of yourself. We see so many parents pushing so hard. You’ve got to take time out. Don’t forget you’ll need to recharge your batteries too.”

We received that advice throughout Andrew’s treatment. “You parents need to take care of yourselves too.” “Remember that you can help your boy best if you’re taking care of yourself too.” “Take some time for you!”

Great advice.
Perfect!
Ideal.
Laudable recommendations from caring souls.

“Don’t lift that boy – he’s too heavy for your back!” – OK, but he’s four, sick to his stomach, neutropenic, tired…I’m supposed to tell him he’s on his own?

“Don’t worry about the housework, take care of yourself.” – OK, but I cannot have a sick boy around dirt…is someone going to clean it for me?

“Make sure you eat regular and healthy meals!” – Ok. But the procedures are always during breakfast time, recuperation through lunch, driving through supper and falling into bed. When was I supposed to eat? And what in the world is a ‘regular time’?

The job needs to be kept, the house needs to be clean, the kids need to be loved, the meals need to be fixed, the sick one needs to be cared for – when, exactly, was I supposed to “take care of me”?

Truly, all I could concentrate on, throughout my son’s illness, was him! It wasn’t until it was too late, and I was in trouble, that I realized what I had done to myself. So the question I hear, from so many caregivers, is this:

HOW do I take care of myself, when my primary job is to take care of him/her? (tweet this)
I’m probably the last person to take advice from, as I did not necessarily do it right. On the other hand, maybe I’m a good person to listen to—I can honestly look back over my journey and say that there are things I would do no differently even if I could have known exactly what I know now. I would still give 150% to my child and my family.

However, there are some things that I wish I could go back and change, or do better:

1. Delegate the little things as much as you can: you cannot delegate the worry, no one else can carry your pain and your patient might not want you to delegate personal care. So delegate the windows being washed, the lawn getting mown, handing someone your money and your shopping list, etc. Delegate as much as you can. Sometimes that means swallowing your pride, but it might help you avoid swallowing medication later! ☺

2. Make lists. If someone offers to help – have a list ready of things they might be able to help with. If you have nothing you can think of right that moment (I remember someone offering to help while we were waiting for Andrew to come out of a procedure – nice, but not where my brain was right that moment), then write their offer down and get contact information and ask if you could call on them sometimes.

3. Ask. Don’t be afraid to call your pastor or a neighbor or a co-worker and let him/her know of a need. A lot of people think we caregivers have it all under control and don’t think to even ask if there’s a need. But many would help if they knew of a need. One person said to me, “It’s OK to allow someone else to have the blessing of helping you.” I had never thought about it that way before, and that was releasing to me.

4. Be willing to let go: sometimes, we caregivers think we need to be superman and wonder woman all rolled into one. We can’t. Or maybe, like in my case, I could for a while, but sustaining that after a while becomes impossible. Take the help that’s offered. And also let go of how that help is done. It might not measure up to your standards – but it will probably work!

5. Search out quiet moments. The days of caregiving are often busy and hectic, and when they are quiet, they can be scary. Grab moments of quiet to journal or to process some of what’s been going on. Take those moments to evaluate how you’re doing and how you’re feeling. Is it time to get some help? Do you need to find someone to talk to?

6. Expect less of yourself. This one has nothing to do with others’ helping, and everything to do with you deciding that it might be OK if you don’t get things done. Maybe you need to say no to some things you used to do. A caregiver has to re-examine priorities; and in that re-examination, one of those priorities has to be you. Your sanity, your health, your ability to keep on going.

It IS possible to take care of yourself, even while taking care of your loved one!… Click To Tweet

What ways have you found to take care of yourself?

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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Unconditional Love – Trisomy 13

A Mother's Letter of Love to her Unborn Child

When the joy of pregnancy becomes mixed with a Trisomy 13 diagnosis for your unborn child, a mother’s love doesn’t quit.  It grows stronger each day that little one grows inside, even when she knows that his birth might also mean his end.  I was blessed to teach Hannah, her senior year in high school, and we’ve kept in touch over the years.  When I saw this letter, I knew it needed to be shared on a site dedicated to caregiving of all kinds.  May you be blessed by this mom’s beautiful love for her baby:

One Mommy’s letter of love to her unborn baby with Trisomy 13

Dear Jedediah,

I love you. I am so thankful you are mine.

The doctors say you have a severe chromosome abnormality called Trisomy 13. They say you aren’t going to live.

But you are living now.

And every moment with you is precious.

So kick me, punch me, roll, and turn. Remind me that you are alive right now. Remind me how lucky I am to be your mommy.

You are so precious. You are so loved.

Your name, Jedediah, means “Beloved of the Lord.” Every time I hear your name I will be reminded that God loves you even more than I ever could. It is comforting to think of how much God loves you.

There are so many people who love you too, Jedediah. Daddy and I love you. Your family and friends love you. You have many friends who are praying for you and hope to meet you someday. I hope that somehow, in some way, you can know that we love you.

I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, yet at the same time I dread that day approaching because I know what it will likely mean.

So take your time dear one. If you are comfortable in mommy’s tummy, stay for a while. And kick me, punch me, roll, and turn.

And let me love you.

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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Autopilot – the mode of operation for long-term caregivers

And the God who gets us through

In times of trial, when it feels like we’re flying alone – God provides better than “autopilot” and becomes the pilot of our journey

Autopilot becomes the way we handle things flung at us as new caregivers.  Actually, who am I kidding?  It didn’t get easier just because it became longer – in fact, the longer I lived on emergency-ready, life-and-death mode, the grayer my world became.  My son was four-years-0ld when we started his cancer journey, and I was 39.  When we finished chemotherapy, he was 7 1/2  and I was 93.  My always-learning brain had turned to mush (Anita calls it chemo brain by proxy) and I literally saw through a gray haze. I functioned on autopilot – but it worked, because of Who my pilot is:  this is a poem I wrote shortly after finishing chemo and realizing I was in deep-struggle-mode.

I’m on autopilot

Feet float

From place to place

Unaware of where they’re going

Lost from where they’ve been

 

Eyes drift

Across words on a page

Reading and rereading a passage

Unable to soak it in

 

Ears buzz

Around conversations flying by

Desperately trying to pick out information

Confused by threads of thought

 

Mouth stumbles

Over pieces of a conversation

Tripping over thoughts refusing to be expressed

Incapable of coherence

 

Hands flutter

From task to task

Forgetting how to accomplish anything outside of an emergency

Helpless to proceed

 

I’m on autopilot again Lord,

Lost,

drifting,

buzzing,

stumbling,

fluttering

Autopilot

The only way I can do anything at all

Is to have You

Be my pilot

Caregiver coping - #autopilot. Let God be your pilot! #caregiving Click To Tweet

Put God in the pilot seat!

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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Happy Father’s Day – from God

Our Daddy when we need Him

Father’s Day – what a fantastic idea!  A time to call our dads or send a note or make them something special and let them know they’re loved.  On the other hand, Father’s Day  – what a horrible idea.  A time to miss our dads and renew a sense of loss in our lives.

My two fathers (my dad and my father-in-law) on my wedding day. I miss them both and am thankful for my heavenly Father.

This blog is a caregiving blog, and as such I’ve written before about my dads – my own dad and my dad-in-law.  Both men I admire greatly for their familial dedication, hard work ethics and commitment to God.  Today is our second Father’s Day without either man around to thank and that makes me sad.  My family just celebrated my niece’s wedding last weekend.  The whole family was able to be there – except for my dad and my nephew.  They are both awaiting Christ’s soon return and their resurrection from the grave.  We all felt the loss although we chose to speak of it only very little.

Father’s Day.  It used to be fun – now it’s an ouch that doesn’t quite heal, a loss that leaves an ache in one’s center.

For those out there who, like me, are reminded of losses on this Father’s Day, I want to remind you that you have a Father.  I mean a present Father.  One who loves unconditionally.  A Father who cares daily.  A Dad that will never leaves you and never forsake you.  In those moments of loneliness, when the relationship to your earthly father is messed up, or gone, God promises us that he is a “A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.” (Psalm 68:5)

God’s presence doesn’t remove the loss we feel about our earthly dads, but it certainly provides comfort and hope for things to come.

May God richly bless each of you this Father’s Day and may we each cling to our heavenly Father, until His soon return when we can all be whole and united.

If you're feeling more loss than joy on this Father's Day... #InspireMeMonday… Click To Tweet

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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Expectations Can Make All the Difference

Choosing what we expect from life.

Father and son at the start of the cancer journey, on the way to chemo.

It was one of those mornings where expectations of an normal chemo treatment were obliterated – everything that could go wrong, was going from bad to worse!  We had arrived on time for four-year-old Andrew’s chemotherapy, but the nurse hadn’t.

When she finally arrived, the doctor wasn’t there yet, neither was the medicine.  When the medicine arrived, the doctor still hadn’t and the nurse couldn’t give the medication without written doctor orders, even though it was standard procedure.

Finally the doctor arrived and checked Andrew out.  Everything was fine.  Phew.  She suggested we start the Vincristine drip, which would take a little while, because, wonder of wonders; the Operating Room wasn’t ready for his Lumbar Puncture procedure yet.

The nurse hooked Andrew up for the treatment and was just ready to start when the OR called and, well, they were now ready.  The nurse unhooked Andrew and we wheeled him down to the OR holding area.

Can you believe it?  The anesthesiologist wasn’t ready.

Five year old Andrew didn’t care about any of this.  I mean, after all, he had the attention of mommy, the oncologist, the Peds nurse, the OR nurse and the OR assistant.  He chattered happily to any one who might be listening and followed his normal procedure of happily climbing onto the gurney and lying there while they readied the oxygen, the electric probes, the pulse/ox indicator, gloves, swabs and who knows what else.  He demanded a pillow (the OR nurse apologized, after all, it’s in his chart that he wants a pillow) and got it.  Still the anesthesiologist wasn’t ready.

Andrew chattered on about the need to go to Dairy Queen for breakfast (he did not get that idea from me) and declared it to be way better than Taco Bell and decided maybe we would have time for the library.  He proceeded to quickly announce anything else that popped into his little head – it was how he handled his nervousness.

Still we were waiting.

The nurse checked the flush syringe that was hooked up to the port in Andrew’s chest.  It was waiting for the anesthesiologist.  Suddenly Andrew noticed the syringe.  His eyes got big and he reached down and grabbed hold of the syringe.

            Let me pause for a moment

and explain to you the normal procedure that we’d gone through countless times in the last year and a half.  Usually, Andrew hops on the table, the oxygen mask is placed near, the anesthesiologist introduces himself, assures himself of who Andrew is, and injects the propothol (the anesthesia), into Andrew’s port.  Andrew has the same reaction every time the anesthesia hits.  He frowns, starts to tell me it smells funny (I know that because he used to get the sentence out, but now that they know his dosage, he never completes the thought).  Then his eyes get really big, he half yawns, half yells mommy, his eyes roll back in his head and in the middle of the yawn, he collapses onto the pillow and he’s out for the however long they keep him under!

On this day, suddenly Andrew determined in his little mind that the syringe on his chest must be the anesthesia and we just didn’t tell him.  His eyes got huge, he yelled, “Mommy!  Is this the sleepy medicine?”  Then, believe it or not, he half yawned and his eyes began to roll back into his head.

I quickly explained, “No Andrew, it’s not sleepy medicine, it’s just a flush.”

Instantly his eyes replaced themselves, he lifted his head off the pillow and finished the story he had been telling without hardly missing a beat.

            Expectations!  Who knew?  I have never before seen such a physical manifestation of a mental expectation.

I really wondered what Andrew would have done had I not assured him of it only being saline!  Would he have gone to sleep?  How funny.  Maybe after all this time, they don’t even need the anesthesia!

I have heard the phrase that if you expect people to treat you well, they will.  If you expect to succeed you will.  On the other hand if you expect to be carsick, you better take a container and if you expect to be treated as an outcast, you will most likely be very, very lonely.

Expectations.  Hmmm.

What do I expect for myself?

Do I expect to follow the Lord?  Can I expect to be happy?  Do I expect to live a full life of rewards and loving relationships?  Can I remember that a loving Father will be with me in everything that happens to me, even cancer?

Our expectations for ourselves and for our God can make a huge difference in how we approach life.

What are your expectations today?

What are my expectations of God? How about my #expectations for myself? #inspirememonday… Click To Tweet

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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Praying for a Cure – Childhood Cancer

Julianna and way too many others

The words, “children” and “cancer” should never be in the same sentence, let alone the words, “childhood cancer.” It’s just wrong.   I might be extra sensitive, having battled through my boy’s childhood leukemia and still dealing with the consequences all these years later.  But I don’t think I’m special or unique.  I’m pretty certain that any one of us, seeing those St. Jude Hospital (and medical research facility) commercials, feel a little heart-tug.

I cannot help but follow certain families that come through prayer chain requests.  Even when I do not personally know them, it hits me hard!  It’s a helpless feeling – the fixer in me wants to jump in and help, but having gone through the journey, I know I cannot fix –  just help, pray, give and care.

This week, I’m inviting you to share with me. No, don’t panic, I’m not asking you to donate or give (although I’m sure that would be fine too).  I’m just asking for a moment of your time to pray.  A little girl named Julianna has been fighting a rare type of brain cancer.  The family has flown her to England for treatments and is now somewhere else in an effort to find treatment and comfort for their precious little one.  My heart aches.

Julianna – Praying for a Cure
Childhood Cancer

Click here to read just a little about her:  Julianna’s Journey.

Yes, this is a donation site, but it also gives some background.

There is also this facebook group, where you can follow her story.

So today, in the middle of sharing our blog posts and praying for each other.  I’m asking you to pray for Julianna, and all the other children out there fighting unimaginable battles, whether it’s cancer or some other disease.

 

I cannot wait for Heaven, where cancer will be obliterated and replaced with happiness and health.  Until then, let’s pray for each other!

I cannot wait for Heaven, where cancer will be obliterated and replaced with happiness and health.… Click To Tweet

Inspire Me Monday Instructions

What’s your inspirational story? Link up below, and don’t forget the 1-2-3s of building community:

1. Link up your favorite posts from last week!

2. Visit TWO other contributors (especially the person who linked up right before you) and leave an encouraging comment.

3. Spread the cheer THREE ways! Tweet something from a post you read, share a post on your Facebook page, stumble upon it, pin it or whatever social media outlet you prefer—just do it!

Don’t forget to visit the other #InspireMeMonday host site: www.anitaojeda.com

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