Limits

One thing I particularly love about watercolor is that it stays within its limits. If there is no water to carry the color, it stays within the limits set for it, most of the time, anyway.

It took me a long time and I still struggle to set limits in my life with other people. Most of my friends and acquaintances know that I am having multiple new medical issues on top of multiple existing medical issues. 




Right now, I am able to make my very basic obligations. Church, teaching at the Senior Center, singing at Heritage House, and encouraging friends are very high on my list. But, after I finish these things, I am absolutely exhausted and it can take several hours to recover enough to fold a load of laundry or heat up supper. 

September promises to be a sea of specialist appointments and tests. I have already had to cancel my first week of watercolor classes to be able to see these new doctors. When I am a new patient waiting for a specialty appointment, I take whatever I can get. I am desperately trying to get well enough to go on a long anticipated weekend trip in October with my best friend. I want to have a birthday party in October, that will double as a fundraiser for Good Shepherd Community Center. 

The rest of August and September need to be my time to work on my healing. 

Right now, I just don't feel like extensive visiting, doing special programs, going anywhere after dark, or even shopping. The rare bits of energy I have need to be going to the things that I feel called to do and to being with chosen friends who understand where my limits are and respect them. 

My 2 Cents

Like many people today, I am shocked and saddened by the death of Robin Williams. Yet another reminder of the realities of depression and the fact that this disease is no respecter of persons. 

I am a retired licensed professional counselor. At least 75% of the people who walked through my office door suffered from depression. Many of them had suffered in silence for years due to the stigma (which still exists to an alarming degree) associated with getting help. 

Here in the "Bible Belt" depression is often seen as a sign that the person is not close enough to God, is not praying hard enough, etc. This just adds to the guilt and shame that the clinically depressed are already feeling. No wonder suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in this country.

I am sure that I am not the only middle-aged woman who, upon admitting being depressed to a physician, has had her genuine physical ailments immediately dismissed as "stress". Prescriptions for Valium, etc are offered instead of investigating real causes of illness. I never answer the question on history of depression on a new doctor's questionnaire. When my body "broke down" at age 40, what two doctors dismissed as stress turned out to be a neuromuscular disease, sleep apnea, asthma, severe food allergies, and severe anemia. I thank God every day for the young doc at MEA in Clinton who cared enough to refer me to the right doctors and get me treated for these very real illnesses. 

I have been clinically depressed. I was able to ignore the well meaning friends who did not think I needed help and listen to the ones who thought I did. I found a good counselor and anti-depressant medication. I leaned (too heavily at times, God bless them) on my friends. And, eventually, I got better. 

Unfortunately, the stories of others don't end as well as mine did. 

May you find the peace in death that you could not find in life, Robin. 

 

 

 

 

Hearts

I have had tests done on my heart for years. Because of my family history, doctors tend to check my heart every few years, just in case. They have always come back clear and the problem has been something else. 

When Dr. Distante came in the room Tuesday, I was honestly expecting him to say, "Well, it's not your heart" and ship me back to Dr. LaTorre. 

I was a little taken aback when he told me that the tests had shown that there do appear to be some problems. 

My heart does not seem to be pumping quite enough blood and there is fluid around my it. I am scheduled for a heart cathererization on Friday to see if the other test results were correct and possibly fix problems.

I know that these procedures are routine and very low risk now, but I would be lying if I said that I was not a trifle nervous. I have tried to better my odds of heart problems (no smoking, taking my cholesterol meds, trying not too eat too many fried or greasy foods, and exercising as able with my myopathy) but, as the doc says, sometimes genetics just suck. 

Best case scenario is that whatever they find can be easily fixed and I will get some energy back. I have places to go, people to see, and things to do! As the meme says "Ain't Nobody Got Time for This!" 

I certainly don't!

Miss Mary

When I woke up this morning, it was raining. I had planned to go to the gym, but, just for a moment, I was SO tempted to just skip it. It would have been lovely just to sit down in my chair and play with my iPad. 

I quickly shook off that notion, put my clothes on, grabbed my umbrella, and headed off to Fitness Works. As I arrived, my friend, 94 year old Mary Clark was coming out of the gym. Yes, Miss Mary was out IN THE RAIN before 9 AM at the gym!

Miss Mary amazes me. Even at 94, she has never grown "old". She does not constantly harp on aches and pains. She does not constantly talk about "the good old days." She is lively and interested in other people and what is going on with THEM. I remember getting an invitation to the 90th birthday party that she threw for herself. She wanted to treat her family and friends rather than have them treat her. 

I want to be Miss Mary when I grow up. I want to stay interested. I don't want to waste my time complaining. I want to learn new things. I want to throw my own 90th birthday party!

And I want to still be going to the gym when I am 94! 



 

Saying Goodbye

Almost 25 years ago, I met Denny Allman, the priest at Christ Episcopal Church and his lovely wife, Norma. We met while playing in the local Vicksburg Theater Guild production of Camelot in 1989.

I was cast as Nimue, the nymph who comes to lure Merlin (played by Denny Allman) to her cave and eternal sleep, thus taking him away from his role as adviser to King Arthur. Every night, I climbed up a 14 foot platform, without my glasses, and trailing costume. Coming down was even harder. Denny stood by the ladder and helped me down after I had lured him away to "Follow Me." 

Norma, Denny's wife, was cast a Morgan le Fay, who dwelt in an invisible castle. By keeping Arthur away from Camelot for one night, Morgan allowed Guinevere and Lancelot to be caught together. Thus began the fall of Camelot. 


This was a behemoth of a production. There was such a long period between times when the chorus was needed that people had time to go to Daiquiri World and back. 

I am not kidding. 

Needless to say, there was also time to talk and make friends. While I made several, Denny and Norma became particularly special to me. The next year, after my mama died during the night, Denny was on my doorstep the on the morning of December 26th. Denny and Norma helped me through the severe depression I went through while dealing with my loss. More times than maybe even they know, they saved my life just by being the right people, at the right place, at the right time. They always had time for me. 

I was never a parishioner of Christ Episcopal, but Denny always treated me as if I was. He visited me when I was in the hospital, helped me through the loss of more loved ones, and cheered my successes. 

Denny and Norma are moving to Baton Rouge to be closer to biological family. But, no matter where they go, they will always be part of my chosen family. 

Social Media

Last night, my husband and I spent several hours watching a CNN series on the Sixties. As we watched through historical events from Kennedy's election, to Vietnam, to Freedom Summer, I saw footage of political figures that I had never seen before. I found it ironic, that in this age of social media, I am just now finding out about things from 50 years ago. 

It made me wonder how past presidents and other political figures would have fared had camera phones, Facebook, Twitter, and Vine been available back then. What if they had been caught in that split second before they could put hands over hearts for the pledge? Had photoshopped pictures made that totally distorted situations? What if misinformation could have been spread like wildfire at the click of a mouse? Presidents who have been considered some of the greatest in history have made some pretty big mistakes. ("Bay of Pigs", anyone?) Would their legacies have been the same had the public known about their mistakes instantly? 

Social media can be a wonderful thing. I love connecting with friends and family. I love discussing issues near to my heart in groups. I loved getting to see pictures of my dear friend's newborn granddaughter who was born on the 4th of July. But, I have to wonder if social media is playing a part in creating and maintaining divisions. Divisions between political parties. Divisions between religious denominations. Divisions between races. Yes, racial divides still exist, even today, sadly enough. 

Just for today, think about how social media can be used for good or for ill. Resolve to check out things that might be in doubt. Snopes.com is a good way to see if something is true or false. 

Check things out before passing them on. 

 

  

 

Comfort Zones

There is a Casting Crowns song "Voice of Truth" that spoke loudly to me the very first time that I heard it, and continues to speak to me today. The sermon at Hermanville UMC today was on leaving our comfort zones and going out into the world to share the Good News of Jesus. 

 Historically, I have been very much a "Comfort Zone" person. I broke out of that comfort zone to go back to school and get my counseling degree. But, afterwards, I found it easy to slip back into another comfort zone. While I was waiting to regain my singing voice, I decided to leave my comfort zone again and explore art. I left the comfort zone of my longtime church to follow a call to go where I was really needed. Now, I have left the comfort zone of the politics of my parents to follow my own paths. Each time that I have left a comfort zone, I have found an opportunity to minister to others. Not by beating them over the head with the Bible and quoting endless scriptures, but by loving them, encouraging them, and serving them. I don't always succeed in this, but, I am always trying. Most people in this part of the country know the Bible, but don't really experience the love of Christ.

Consider stepping out of your comfort zone for a day.What might happen?
 

http://youtu.be/KwsvqVmFV6Y

Oh what I would do to have
The kind of faith it takes
To climb out of this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves

To step out of my comfort zone
Into the realm of the unknown where Jesus is
And He's holding out His hand

But the waves are calling out my name
And they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times
I've tried before and failed
The waves they keep on telling me
Time and time again. "Boy, you'll never win!"
"You'll never win!"

[Chorus]
But the voice of truth tells me a different story
The voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!"
The voice of truth says, "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth

Oh what I would do to have
The kind of strength it takes to stand before a giant
With just a sling and a stone
Surrounded by the sound of a thousand warriors
Shaking in their armor
Wishing they'd have had the strength to stand

But the giant's calling out my name
And he laughs at me
Reminding me of all the times
I've tried before and failed
The giant keeps on telling me
Time and time again. "Boy you'll never win!"
"You'll never win!"

Chorus

But the stone was just the right size
To put the giant on the ground
And the waves they don't seem so high
From on top of them lookin' down
I will soar with the wings of eagles
When I stop and listen to the sound of Jesus
Singing over me

Chorus

I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth

Passionate

I spent part of last night on Facebook, trying to fix my page so that everyone did not have to see every like, comment, and page that I follow. Facebook used to have an option to disable comments and likes, but I can't find that now. Go figure.

I find that as I grow older, I have become so much more passionate about life and the world around me. Social media has introduced me to people, places, and causes I would never have known about otherwise. This is a "mixed" blessing. I spent much of my early life being afraid to express myself. One of the wonderful things about middle age is that this fear is largely gone. :)

I have become quite passionate about politics. I am passionate about equal rights for ALL of God's children, no matter where they may be found. I am passionate about Fair Trade and trying to buy as many things as possible from local artisans or from places where I know people are paid a fair wage for their labors. I am passionate about art and music. I am passionate about shelter for the homeless, medical care for the poor, and safe daycare. I am passionate about my family and friends. I am passionate about mental health, taking care of self, and setting boundaries. I am passionate about following my bliss. And most of all, I am passionate about my little church in Hermanville and trying to do what Jesus would have me do. 

Go out today and be passionate about something. You will be glad you did.   

What I Learned Today

Today, in an effort to give our wonderful pastor a bit of time off, I offered to conduct the service and bring the message today. I learned a lot. Needless to say, I appreciate Charles even more after this experience. 

Historically, Memorial Day is a very "low" Sunday for our church. People are out of town and visiting family. To my great surprise, we had 10 people in the service today. One couple even came back from an event early to support me in this endeavor. I was truly blown away by this. 

I never realized what a juggling act it is to manage a speech, a bulletin, a hymnal, and, in my case, an extra book that I wanted to show to the congregation. I did a fair amount of praying that I would not drop anything, seeing as I dropped my hymnal, bulletin, and solo lyrics just last Sunday. 

I never realized how long Charles has to stand at one time. This is something I totally underestimated. My legs do not cooperate with standing for long periods, so I had to abbreviate some things so that I could get to my chair and sit during the special music. 

Part of my neuromuscular disease can also affect my speech when I begin to tire. Not sure I can really do anything about this one. 

I am getting off of steroids, so my vision is changing rapidly, and not for the better. I did not realize how different it was going to be looking at my notes and bulletin from a standing position. Especially if I looked up and looked back down! Double spacing might help this. Or not. 

Even with all this, I did enjoy the experience. Don't get me wrong, I would NOT want the job full time. But, it did reassure me that I can get through a speech and not have the congregation/audience fall asleep on me. I was not even really nervous. I felt the prayers, support, and love, not just from those present, but from those who were praying for me from other places. 

It is nice to know that I can talk when the need arises. But, I would much rather let Charles do the talking. 

And I'll just sing. 

Boundaries

Ironically, I am to give my first talk in church as lay leader on May 25th. My topic? Boundaries. 

I first read "Boundaries" by Henry Cloud and John Townsend many years ago, back in the 90's. It really did change my life for the better.  Sometimes I am more effective at setting boundaries than at other times. Having multiple "invisible" illnesses, my body often sets my boundaries for me. 

I have not been as efficient as I need to be in setting boundaries over the past few months and my body and spirit are letting me know it. I have been using too much of my precious energy for too little reward. Those few more minutes, or one more thing can make the difference between being able to run one more important errand like picking up medication, or going to the bank, before I go home and crash for several hours or not getting these things done. 

I am taking some time away from several commitments for a short time. I need time to recharge the batteries of both my body and my spirit.

My First Tornado.

This week has been quite eventful, to say the least. On Monday, I experienced my first tornado. I found out a number of things about tornadoes that I did not know. 

For one, I found out that by the time you get that call telling you that you are under a tornado WARNING, it is already on top of you. There is very little time to get anywhere safe. 

Tornadoes really DO sound like freight trains. 

We don't have anyplace in our house that can be closed off that does not have an outside wall. We don't have a tub in our one bathroom, but a shower with glass doors located by a large window. Ummm...I don't think so! We do need to figure something out for the future, but I don't know what.

I also found out that rain can go completely sideways. As we looked out our windows, the rain was parallel to the ground. The (mercifully small) hail hitting our metal roof made it even more interesting. And, when I heard the loud "Whump!", sure enough, our big oak in the corner of the yard had shed a limb large enough to block our street and take power lines with it. 

After the storm was over, as neighbors were gathering outside to survey the damage, I saw something I had never seen. 5-6 inch in diameter limbs were stuck in the ground like spears. When my husband pulled this one up, it had been buried 6 inches deep. 

Overall, we were extremely fortunate. One neighbor had part of his house, his carport, and a beautiful antique car smashed. A family in a nearby neighborhood had a tree fall on the living room that they would have been sitting in had they been home at the time. But, we had no injuries or deaths with this storm. 

My heart goes out to Tupelo and Louisville. They suffered casualties and will have a much harder time cleaning up and getting back to normal. 

Vicksburg essentially dodged yet another bullet, and for that, I am thankful. 

A Hymnal of My Own

This month I celebrated my first anniversary as a member of Hermanville United Methodist Church. I had been attending before that, but last April was when I decided to make to transition from my former church to HUMC. 

Last Sunday, our pianist, Daphne Bruce and I were presented with our very own personalized hymnals. I was surprised and (momentarily) speechless. Our pastor, Charles, told the story of his first Sunday at HUMC. He was holding off beginning the service. One of the members told him he might as well go ahead and start. Charles asked about a pianist or a music leader and was told "We don't sing." 

Well, the members of HUMC now sing! Hymns, the Doxology, the Gloria Patri, and special music are now part of every service. I feel so blessed to be a part of the two person "music department." 

Many years ago, my paternal grandmother gave me my first Bible. I was a white leather King James Version. I opened it and the first scripture I saw was this one. It is still one of my favorites. 

Psalm 100

King James Version (KJV)

100 Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

² Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing.
³ Know ye that the Lord he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
⁴ Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
⁵ For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.

 

The Book!

After many years in the making, my husband's book about the old cemeteries of Claiborne County is out and available. 

This book was many years in the making. Bill personally hiked to and through these cemeteries himself, with the exception of one that was forbidden to him. He did his best to uncover every stone and, where possible, leave the cemetery in better shape than when he found it. 

Not only did Bill track down and document these cemeteries, he cross referenced names with marriage and death records in order to link families together. The result is a very nice book that should be a wonderful resource for anyone interested in the history of the Claiborne County or Genealogical research. 

The book can be purchased through amazon.com, dorrancebooks.com, and I usually keep a couple of signed copies at The Cricket Box. Cost is $31.00 for a signed copy at the Cricket Box and you would be supporting a local business. You can also message me on Facebook if you are interested in a copy.

The cover artwork is my own rendition of Grand Gulf Cemetery. I painted it for Bill several years ago and was honored that he used it for his cover. I also took the photograph of him that appears on the back with my iPhone 5 camera at Greenlawn Gardens. It only seemed proper to have his photo taken in a graveyard. 

Getting a book published is not an easy task. The back and forth between the writer and the editors can get tedious at times. But, after many months, Bill's dream is finally a reality.

I could not be prouder. 



 
 

Car Shopping

I am not a fan of car shopping. However, our 2006 Town and Country mini-van is making way too many trips to the shop these days. The things that are going wrong are just not cost effective to fix in an 8 year old vehicle.

My husband insists on a vehicle with an "American" label (even if half the parts are made in other countries). He also insists on going out of town to look at every possible choice. I am having trouble getting him to realize, with the transparency of the internet, there is no need to do this.

I have already done some research. I know what I want, where I want to get it, and who I want to buy it from.

Alas, I am certain that it is not going to be that simple.

I Can't See Clearly Now

Don't worry, I can still see to drive, cook, read on my iPad, etc.

After 12 years of taking varying doses of steroids, my new neuromuscular doc is wanting to wean me off of them. They were masking some problems that need attention and I may be able to finally lose some more weight. This is good.

The bad is increased pain from a number of injuries, arthritis, etc. I can deal with those.

Where I am feeling the change the most is in my art endeavors. I have had trouble seeing a pencil line for some time, so I have avoided trying to sketch what I want to paint. As the steroids decrease, my vision worsens, and my ability to see that pencil line is almost impossible. My hands are stiffer and shake a bit more.

Once again, I am having to modify the way I "do art." I am trying different tools and methods to see what I can do with what I have now.

I am not sure what this will mean for the marketability of my art or my ability to continue teaching the classes I love at the Senior Center.

I guess I will be stepping outside my comfort zone and finding out!

Stay tuned!

Figure Skating

The first time I remember really watching figure skating was when Peggy Fleming won the gold medal at the 1968 Olympics. She was so graceful and elegant. And I was hooked on figure skating for life.

Over time, figure skating has changed a lot. It seems like there are times that all the emphasis is on the jumps and none on the artistry and beauty that make the sport worth watching.

Adelina Sotnikova of Russia, last night's winner, had the jumps. But, in my humble opinion, had none of the other qualities that I love about figure skating. There were no deep, lovely edges. No mood was set by her choreography (or lack thereof). Her spins were not particularly distinctive. It was like she just did jump after jump, with nothing meaningful in between.

Contrasting Adelina's skating with the gorgeous performances given by Yuna Kim, Carolina Kostner, and Gracie Gold, I have a wonder about the judging, which is already under fire. I guess bloc judging is still alive and well, even in 2014.

For the most part, it was a great evening of figure skating. Gracie, Ashley, and Polina showed the world that ladies figure skating in the US is a force to be reckoned with in the future.

Bring on 2018!

Weepy

My healthcare team says I am doing well. I am walking part of the time with a quad cane. I have been out to get the toenails done and the hair "did." The weather is warming up. I go to outpatient physical therapy next week to work on getting back to my version of "normal."

So, why am I crying?? I am not normally a person who weeps much. But, I find myself crying at commercials, at the Olympics, and even at these clips I find on Facebook. 

This morning I saw a clip on Scott Hamilton on Facebook, and being quite a fan of his, I watched all 10 minutes of it. I sobbed. Literally sobbed. 

I hope it is just the events of the past few weeks getting to me. The rehab experience was uncomfortable at the best of times and absolutely frightening at the worst. I have never been this incapacitated for this long. I hate having to constantly ask for help from my husband to do things I just can't do yet. I really hate not being able to drive! 

This week, I get back into my routine of teaching watercolor classes. Combined with the PT, I hope to be busy enough not to let my mind dwell on things past. 

I am telling myself that all this is probably normal under the circumstances. But, I hope it does not last much longer. 

I am running low on Kleenex.

Recovery

Needless to say, my recovery is not going as quickly as *I* think it should. After a brief attempt at walking on a quad cane and pushing myself a bit too far in physical therapy, I pulled a muscle and set myself back a few days. So, I am back on my tricked out walker with the wheels, tennis balls, and Batman tag.

I guess anyone who has surgery of this type hears all about the folks who recovered unbelievably quickly. The ones who came straight home from the hospital and were using a cane the first week. The ones who were doing almost everything they had been doing before surgery by 4 weeks.

Despite my optimism and determination, I was not this person. Not this time, anyway.

The day I was released from the hospital after my appendectomy 20 years ago (this was when they did the big incision), I stopped at Cedar Hill Cemetery to sing for a friend's graveside service. I back in school (as a student) the next Monday. I had little trouble with any of my other surgeries. Nothing prepared me for this one.

My rehab and home health caregivers think I am doing well, all things considered. But, I am not the world's most patient person. I want to be back teaching watercolor, leading the singing at my church, and doing everything I can for myself. I am not good at asking for help. But, it has been an eye-opener to see how many people really care about me and have been willing to help during this time. I am truly humbled.

I already have less pain than before the surgery. I know that I am going to be better than ever before too long. I just have to realize that I am healing at my own pace. And I have to be content with that.

Rehab

I went into my hip replacement surgery optimistically thinking that I would go straight home from the hospital. 

Wrong. 

Due to my congenital myopathy, the surgery left me much weaker than the average person. I had to find someplace to rehab in less than 12 hours. When my two choices in Vicksburg were unable to take me, I ended up at Trinity Mission Nursing and Rehab in Clinton. It was an eye-opening experience to say the least!


For the first few days, I was unable to get up without assistance. Every time I had to go to the bathroom, I had to call someone. Talk about a humbling experience! I would be sitting on the edge of my bed for up to an hour and a half watching CNAs go by. For some, if I was not their patient, they were not going to give me the time of day. Often, my call light was ignored completely. I was thankful that I was alert, had a cellphone, and could yell if necessary! But, most of my fellow inmates were not so fortunate. Scary.   

Needless to say, I was eager to get to PT and get stronger in a hurry. I was not sure how the system worked there, but I wanted to let the therapists know that I was ready to get going. I called my friend Rachel to bring me supplies and I made a sign announcing that I was ready for therapy! 

Tracy and Helen arranged for me to begin therapy every morning at the unholy hour of 6:15. Since I was not sleeping anyway, I figured I might as well use my morning wisely. These two got me back on my feet. Literally!

I also now have an appreciation for parents who have to watch the same TV channel day and night. My roommate had TVLand going 24/7 at full blast the first couple of nights I was at Trinity. There is NOTHING more grating that the voice of Fran Drescher (The Nanny)  at 3 AM!!! I finally began getting someone to turn it off after sweet Miss Bonnie fell asleep. 

Dining was another interesting experience. The dining room manager ruled with an iron hand. We short timers were allowed to have a guest for one meal a day. But, that person had to be signed up well in advance. One of the best things about the meal was the homemade soup. But, if one was not signed up, it was  "No soup for YOU!" 

Fortunately, along the way, I met and cultivated caring people to help make my stay easier. The wound care nurses were wonderful. James, Justin, and George helped me to the bathroom when no one else would, even though it was not technically their job. Believe me, when you are hurting and desperate, you don't care WHO is helping you! And precious Krystal was my favorite CNA. She is trying to go back to school, get her nursing degree, and break a generations old cycle of family poverty. I am rooting for her. 

One of the things that was hardest about the whole experience was the lack of silence. The man across the hall had his TV on 24/7 and it was so loud I could hear the dialogue. Staff members would talk and laugh loudly outside the door no matter what the hour. And, of course, there was always the sound of food, laundry, and medicine carts going up and down the hall. I had earplugs and soothing music, but nothing could drown out the other sounds. I craved silence as if it were a drug. 

Thanks to my friends and family, Bill, my minister, Charles, Rachel (who washed my hair for me), Tammy (who brought me a large Diet Coke from Sonic on a snowy day), to Debbie and Judy bearing gifts of hugs and lemon squares and Robyn, the Little Debbie Fairy, who ensured I would have something for midnight snacks, I made it. 

I am sure I ended up in the best place available at the time. But, I hope I don't have to do it again any time in the near future. 

 

Death Comes in Threes

I remember, as a child, older relatives saying "Death comes in threes." I did not think too much of it then, but, now that I am an adult (more or less!), it increasingly seems that this is true.

Over the past month, three precious people have passed away before they had a chance to get old. One of them was a wife and mother who enjoyed life and the people around her. One was a sweet gentleman who was in pain for many years, but even when he was home bound, reached out to others by way of encouraging cards. The last was a woman who, when I knew her, lived life at a frantic pace. She wanted to make a lot of money and retire early. I was in no position to say this to her, but I always wished that she would stop and smell the roses a little. Just in case. I am not sure exactly how old she was when she passed away recently, but I know that she was several years younger than me. Her death is especially sad to me, because I am not sure she ever really LIVED life.

Every day, I see friends and acquaintances living these frantically busy lives. They simply don't seem to know how to slow down and enjoy life. They use busyness like some people use drugs and alcohol. They stay busy to avoid or numb what is going on or has gone on in their lives.

My prayer is that my friends don't die before they have lived.

Really lived.

Pennie

I met first met Pennie in 1998 when I began an internship at Warren-Yazoo Mental Health. I had never had a real "job" like this. I had worked in a preschool, a lollipop shop, waitressed,  given voice lessons, relief dispatched for a police department and answered the Mississippi College switchboard. But none of this prepared me for the Mental Health!

I came to this job exhausted and fragile from commuting to Monroe daily for 3 years, dealing with multiple untimely deaths of friends to suicide and AIDS (and the lack of compassion for these deaths by other "friends", which was almost as wounding), and the beginnings of some serious health issues. Then, I met Pennie. And she said something to me that she may not even remember and people who know me now may find hard to believe. "You are the most negative person I have ever met!"

Those words stopped me in my tracks. I knew I had to change my outlook. And, I did.

Pennie was the resident "nut." Leave the office for lunch and there was no telling what prank she might have pulled while I was out. A stuffed squirrel was a particular favorite and there was no telling where it might be and what it might be doing at any given time. He might be holding a sign containing a funny poem or threatening to jump from the top of my bookcase. But, when I was overwhelmed, I could go in her office, shut the door, and she would help me gain perspective over the situation. Pennie was and is an amazing counselor.

During our time at the Mental Health, Pennie also had her challenges. Betrayal, divorce, and a very difficult pregnancy got her down for a while. But, Pennie always had a funny quip and an unquenchable spirit despite everything.

We both eventually left the Mental Health. Me, to deal with health issues and Pennie to pursue new opportunities in Texas. But, we never lost touch.

Now, Pennie is facing a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. She should know for sure in a few days. I am praying without ceasing that she will be able to get a clear diagnosis and successful, stabilizing treatment. She has a husband and a challenging, funny almost 12 year old to finishing raising.

And I need my "Lucky Pennie."

 

Who are you?

Don't worry. This is not one of those year in review things. I promise.

A few weeks ago, there was a thing going around on Facebook where people were assigned numbers and asked to tell x number of things about themselves. I read a number of these and was surprised at the number of them that made me sad. 

Several people focused solely on their achievements. Now, there is nothing actually wrong with this. We all need to toot our own horns occasionally. But, I found it sad when that was almost ALL of what a person put on his or her lists. Jobs can be lost. Illness can take away one's ability to work steadily. Even great achievements are eventually forgotten. I would encourage folks to look at WHO they are and not just WHAT they do. Are they loyal? Thoughtful? Brave? Food for thought. And harder to do than one might think. 

Who are you?






 

When Christmas is "Not so Merry."

Every Christmas I try to take some time out to think of, pray for, or otherwise support my friends who are not feeling so merry this holiday season.

Christmas can be a magical, happy time. But, just as often, it seems, Christmas can be a time of loneliness, despair, and sadness. There are often increased attempts (both successful and unsuccessful) at suicide near Christmas. As a former counselor in public mental health, I can vouch for this.

Christmas might not have been a easy time for some people growing up. Alcoholics tend to use more alcohol. Drug addicts more drugs. Substance abuse can make Christmas a more of a war zone than a celebration.

Depression also takes hold during the Christmas season. Single parents struggle because they can't give their children all they want them to have during this season. The newly bereaved or divorced can feel particularly isolated. People who lost loved ones near Christmas have feelings forever tinged with sadness.

Old family rivalries and disagreements can rear their heads during the emotional settings of Christmas time. Expectations can be too high. Uncle Joe and Aunt Patty aren't suddenly going to be able to stay in the same room together, just because it's Christmas.

Christmas may not be YOUR time of year, and that is OK. You are not alone. And you are not "strange." Sometimes you just do what it takes to survive and move on. There is no shame in that survival.

But none of this will stop me from praying for just a glimmer of joy, somewhere, in everyone's Christmas.

Christmas Friends

Most people have different types of friends. There are the "acquaintance" friends that we see in the grocery store and say hello to. There are the "fair weather" friends who disappear when things are not going well, but miraculously back when life is better. I even have a couple of "bad news" friends. The only time I hear directly from them is when something drastic is happening. I am blessed to have many, many "thick or thin" friends who are there for me no matter what.

Then, in my family's case, there were the "Christmas friends." When my mother did not wake up on Christmas morning and was taken by ambulance to Vicksburg Hospital, these Christmas friends came out in force. There were so many people there that we had to spill out of the tiny ICU waiting room and into the other hospital waiting areas. Don and Juanita Houston, David and Trudy Gunter, Doug and Marilyn Boone, Janis and Bob LaGrone, and others took time away from their families to sit with us. I remember the Gunters taking me home hours after midnight. Spending Christmas in an ICU waiting room is a pretty major gift of love. One that was never taken lightly, and one that will never be forgotten.

Prayer Requests

When it comes to things like fairly major surgery, I am not bashful when it comes to asking for prayers. My faith in the power of prayer is unshakable. I know "dead" people who are still alive against all odds. I am a realist, but the power of prayer is clear in every aspect of my life.

Please feel free to put me on any prayer lists or chains if you wish to. I am not shy about asking for this vital link to the power of the Great Physician. 

My asthma and congenital myopathy will make a brief stay in Intensive Care necessary. This actually makes me feel better, knowing that I will be more closely monitored for any spikes in blood pressure or respiratory distress. 

I would not be totally truthful if I said I had absolutely no worries about this upcoming hip replacement. But, I receive peace from the prayers of supportive friends and family who have been praying for calm and lack of fear for me. 

Prayers for the patience of my husband will also be appreciated. This kind of thing can be pretty exhausting for the caregiver as well. And I am the most patient of patients! 

And, of course, I will be praying on my own behalf and for those who will be taking care of me. 

Prayers. Keep 'em coming!
 

Dr. David

"Dr. David" became part of my life when I was a child. We had moved to Vicksburg from Port Gibson and my mother joined the Newcomer's Club. Dr. David's wife "Miss Trudy" was a member of that club. She and Mama became friends, and, by extension, Dr. David and their 3 children, April, Angie, and Tony. 

Dr. David was our vet. He took care of our succession of Toy Pomeranian dogs when I was growing up. I believed that he could fix anything. When our first Pom was run over, I remember crying and begging my Daddy to take Taffy to Dr. David. I just knew that if anyone could help her, it was him. Alas, it was too late for Taffy, but Dr. David took good care of  her successors, Pom Pom, Brandy, and Bonnie, for years afterward. 

After Bill and I married and bought our first home, Dr. David called us. He had  Yorkie there that the owner was wanting to put to sleep because it had grown too big to breed with her smaller female. Were we interested? Definitely! We picked up Duffy that day. Dr. David had to operate on Duffy more than once for mishaps suffered in scuffles with much larger dogs, but he always pulled that dog through. Dr. David even took Duffy home for the night after one surgery to check on him through the night. I think his optimistic attitude had as much to do with Duffy's recoveries as his skills did. 

I have always admired Dr. David as a Christian. Unlike many 'Christians", Dr. David doesn't just "talk the talk." He truly "walks the walk." When Bill was diagnosed with cancer last Spring, Dr. David was one of the very few people he wanted to talk to. 

Dr. David has been diagnosed with metastatic melanoma. I know that attitude plays a big part in dealing with cancer. If anyone can beat this, Dr. David can. I am praying without ceasing for this precious man's safe travels to MD Anderson, his treatment, and his recovery. 

 

 



 

Thankful

I won't lie. This past calendar year has been one of the toughest I have had in many years. Losing my father-in-law last December, my aunt in February, Bill's cancer, and having to face the inevitable prospect of hip replacement have all been physical, mental, and spiritual challenges for me. 

But, in the midst of all this, I have found much more to be thankful for. Of course, there are the big things like my faith, my family, my friends, a roof over my head, and good insurance. 

There are many other things as well. I am thankful that I found a church that really needed me. Hermanville UMC has been a source of fellowship, joy, and fulfillment that I honestly did not think I would ever find.

I am increasingly thankful for art and the amazing people I have met (or gotten to know better) through my classes at the Senior Center. I am thankful for the people who buy my art and help me help others through my fundraisers. 

I am thankful for Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat, that keep me in touch with my young nieces and nephews, and great nieces. If I learn their "language", I get to be part of their lives even though they are away at college or live hours away from me. 

I am thankful for kind people who help me get things off the top shelf in the grocery store. Waiters who take my money to the counter to save me painful steps or bring my order to my table even though they don't have to. I am especially grateful for the enormous man that God placed behind me when I turned my scooter over today! That man lifted me like I was a rag doll and righted both me and my scooter when all I could do was lay there and yell for help! 

I am thankful that my friend, Teresa, and I got to go on our big adventure during the brief lull between deaths and illnesses. It was a blessing to see family and dear friends, and so much of the history of our still great nation. 

I work at trying to maintain an "attitude of gratitude", even in difficult circumstances. And, most of the time, I think I succeed. 

I am thankful.

 

30 Years

Thirty years ago today, Bill Sanders and I were married in Port Gibson Presbyterian Church by the Reverend David Daniels.

By today's standards, it was a pretty simple wedding. My dress, hat, and shoes cost less than $500.00. I made all the flowers, including my own bouquet, out of silks. The bridesmaid's dresses came pre-cut in inexpensive kits (these proved harder to make than advertised!).

The cakes were homemade and put together by loving friends. A few ferns and two silk arrangements were all the decor that was needed in this gorgeous old church building. I had my best friend, my sister, and my dear friend who became my sister-in-law that day as attendants. Bill had his Dad and his two brothers.

David Cox played Trumpet Voluntaire and Trumpet Tune accompanied by organist, Anna Davis from Jackson.Riley Harper was soloist. Being a music major, I could not choose between my talented college classmates, so I picked musicians from "outside." It worked out nicely.

I was extremely nervous walking down that aisle. I took my marriage vows seriously. I was planning to be in this for life.

Bill and I are polar opposites. Marriage has not always been smooth sailing. We have had our ups and downs. But, the older we get, there seem to be more and more "ups."  We are thankful for our many blessings. After Bill's cancer and treatment this summer, we are particularly mindful of not taking what time is left to us for granted.

Contrary to the cliches, Bill and I do not "complete" each other. But, we do work at compromising and complementing each other.

Who knows? We might have another 30 years.

And they may be the best yet.

Certifiable?

In my quest for a December 17th hip replacement, I am finding the number of hoops I am required to jump through before then a bit overwhelming! Some of the requirements are routine things that I would expect. Other things are totally unexpected. 

I have to be seen and cleared by my neuromuscular doc, my pulmonologist, and my family doc. One down, two to go.  I am actually surprised that they don't require a psych evaluation! 

I have to attend a CLASS on hip replacement when I go for my pre-op.

I have already had to choose my home health agency for the first two weeks of physical therapy. 

I have to be prepared not to be able to drive for at least 6 weeks. I may BE certifiable by the end 6 weeks! (No comments from the peanut gallery!)

When I got home from my appointment with the hip surgeon, I realized that our one tiny bathroom was going to be entirely unusable for months. I have to lift my leg higher than recommended, or twist it in a bad position for hip replacement patients, just to get in my tub and shower. A shower stool won't work due to my shower doors. I also really need a high toilet for both my knee and my hip. My Christmas gift to myself is a bathroom remodel that will, thankfully, be done before I enter the hospital. Pricey, but worth it. 

Add in a PET scan, surgeon's appointment, and oncology checkup for my husband and, hopefully, at least lunch together on our 30th wedding anniversary (sandwiched between the oncology appt. and my pre-op) and I may be ready for a rubber room.

Feel free to join me. 

 

 

Fall Colors

Fall colors are so late this year that I was beginning to think they would never come. Looking at the trees turning while driving to a doctor's appointment in Jackson yesterday, I was poignantly reminded of one of the last times I drove my Daddy to Jackson.

Daddy had earlier received the news that his cancer had returned and spread. Although we really didn't say it out loud, we knew that he had only a matter of months to live.

I remember that Daddy did not talk much on the return trip. He spent most of the trip looking out the car window, as if he knew that he would never see another Autumn. It was if he was "soaking up" the colors. They were particularly beautiful that year, as if God has painted a masterpiece just for Daddy.

And, for those wonderful colors, at just the right time, I was and ever will be grateful.

My Early Christmas Gift

If all goes well between now and December 17th, I will be getting a new hip for Christmas. Instead of diamonds or gold, I will be getting titanium and staples.

Many years ago, a doctor told me that arthritis would probably come somewhat early to my right hip. Due to untreated scoliosis (we did not have screenings when I was in school) my hip is high and skewed forward. My left hip is perfect.


I have been in severe pain for almost 9 months. I was told by a friend that when the pain began keeping me awake at night and affecting every activity, I would know that it was time to get it replaced. It's time.

The vast majority of people that I have spoken with who have had this surgery are very positive about their results. The main down side is the idea of not driving for 6 weeks. However, I have a number of friends who will "Drive Miss Karen" if need be. Attitude has a lot to do with surgical success and recovery and my attitude is positive!

Being out of pain might very well be my best Christmas present ever.

Stories

 Everyone has a story. This story is influenced by events from childhood to the present. Most of us may know parts of people's stories. But we seldom know the entire thing.

Back when I was still working in mental health, I had the opportunity to really hear people's stories. There were some folks who were reluctant to share their stories. Some were all too eager. I had to learn to check preconceived ideas and prejudices at the door. As I listened to hundreds of stories, this became easier and easier.

A drug addict is brought in from the Warren County jail. Orange jumpsuit, handcuffs and all. What a bum! Right? I listened to his story as he told me about turning to drugs after his young child died and his marriage collapsed.

That young woman arrested for child neglect? A throwaway child herself, dropped out of school in junior high, no job skills, no self confidence, dependent upon a cruel older boyfriend who beat her senseless if she put her child's needs above his own.

The obviously bright woman who can't get a decent job?  She never learned to read because she went to school before teachers learned to look for things like dyslexia. According to the US Department of Education, 14% of the US population can't read. At all.

One of the most heart breaking was the precious lady who had finally had to quit work because her hallucinations were so severe that she was afraid she would hurt someone. She had developed coping mechanisms over the years, but could not stay stable long enough to hold a job. Medications just made her so sleepy that she could not drive or work safely.

If one saw any of these people in the outside world, they looked healthy and normal. To the casual observer, it would not seem that anything could be wrong.

Unless they knew the rest of the story. 

Colonoscopy

The year I turned 50, I gave myself the "gift" of a colonoscopy. We have a family history of colon problems, so I felt it wise to just bite the bullet and do it.

Since I had polyps, I was put on the 3 year plan to get rechecked. I did not have time to do it last year due to my father-in-law's serious illness. So, this year, I made sure I got it done. 

Many people tell me that they just don't want to go to the bother of having a colonoscopy. They are afraid of the prep. They are afraid of what the results might show. Understandable fears, for sure, but when one considers that there were (according to The American Cancer Society) 102,480 new cases of colon cancer and 40,340 cases of rectal cancer in 2012, the inconvenience is well worth getting this test done. If colon cancer is caught early, there is a 74% survival rate. At stage IV, the survival rate drops to 6%. 

This year, I was pleasantly surprised by a much easier to swallow (pardon the pun) preparation. Instead of that gosh awful, pre-mixed stuff, I was able to mix Miralax with the Gatorade flavor of my choice, lemon-lime. Four Dulcolax and clear liquids for a day completed the getting ready phase. Needless to say, have some good bathroom reading on hand! 

The test itself is much easier than the prep. They give you enough good drugs to make sure that you don't really know much of what is going on. At GI Associates, the staff went over my somewhat complex medical history and list of medications in detail with me. I felt completely safe doing this on an outpatient basis. If one is not a good risk for outpatient procedures, they can do colonoscopies in a hospital setting. 

My results this time were good enough to put me in the 5 year plan, so I don't have to go again until I am 59. I can certainly "live" with that. 

It is not that bad. 

Just do it. 

 

Doing it All

A few months ago, a line of T-shirts, huggies, caps, pillowcases, and mugs appeared at The Cricket Box. The slogan reads "I can't do it all" and in smaller letters "and neither can you." 

Despite many studies that show how damaging trying to "do it all" can be to our physical and mental health, so many people are still running on the hamster wheel of belief that they CAN do it all without any physical, spiritual, or emotional repercussions.

We women are usually the worst about this. Doing it all and keeping ourselves at the point of sheer exhaustion is a badge of honor for many women. I can relate. I used to be that way myself. Until, one year, it all caught up with me, causing health crisis after health crisis. My body and my spirit "broke down", leaving me with permanent medical problems.

I see so many of my younger friends constantly trying to "do it all." I am concerned for some of them. Can they keep up this pace indefinitely? I wish someone had really encouraged me to slow down, take some time to smell the roses, and slow down some before my body made the decisions for me.

None of us can truly do it all.

Now, can we say it and believe it?

Why Now?

I am sure that I have friends shaking their heads and wondering why I am doing a fundraiser NOW, of all times. 

Since I heard about the need for better security for the children and staff of Good Shepherd Community Center, I have been moved to do something about it. I had this fundraiser planned well before the government shutdown. I am on disability, so my income is threatened as well. We have medical bills from my husband's cancer surgery and the hundreds of dollars I pay out of pocket for my medical needs every month. We are certainly NOT rich. 

But, I am stepping out on faith and praying that, despite the shutdown, I can raise some money for the Good Shepherd Community Center. Every time I have stepped out on faith, I have been blessed beyond measure.  I am claiming those blessings in this endeavor.

Won't you step out on faith with me?

Handicapped Parking (Update)

I am happy to report that the handicapped parking situation at River Region West Campus has been remedied! 

Last time I went to visit my cousin, the misleading handicapped parking sign had been taken down in the front lot. Apparently (after over 30 years??) the angle of the front parking lot was deemed too steep for handicapped parking. This also makes me wonder how the City of Vicksburg gets away with having handicapped spaces on hills such as the one by The Attic Gallery.

But, I digress. I drove around to the back lot. Handicapped parking closer to the door had been created and clearly marked. The door was unlocked this time, and the automatic opening feature was activated. 

I really don't like being the squeaky wheel. (Do I hear comments from the peanut gallery?) But, in this case, it paid off for me and my cousin's daughter, who is also disabled. 

And it was totally worth it. 

 
 

"Chosen"

A few weeks ago, I was approached by my friend, Robyn Lea, about singing in a one woman show she was presenting at The Coral Room theater this Saturday night. I love to sing and this sounded like a really cool thing to be a part of. I eagerly agreed. 

As the time for the show grew closer, there were some bumps in the road. People who had agreed to sing were unavailable. Hoping I still had friends in the music world, I told Robyn that I would try to round up an ensemble. 

I was initially discouraged by refusals and lack of response to my requests for singers. But, I am nothing if not persistent. I prayed for the right people to join in this effort. Then, I took to the phone and the streets to round up the perfect ensemble.

When the eight piece ensemble sang together for the first time Tuesday night, I was completely blown away. We sounded like we had been singing together for years! In spite of my doubts and worries, God had put the right people together in the right place at the right time.

Thursday night we had dress rehearsal. It went amazingly well and I am so excited about this show that I literally cannot sleep.

Now I just pray that God uses what we do Saturday night for His glory.

"Mr. D"

About 12 years ago, I was (finally) diagnosed with sleep apnea.  After my sleep study, I was given a C-Pap machine to take home and use. I knew I needed the machine, but I was baffled by the jumble of mask parts, wires, and tubing.

Fortunately, I found a website, sleepnet.com, where people who had been dealing with these machines for years "hung out" on forums to help address sleep issues. One of the most popular was the C-Pap forum. Thanks to these great people, I was finally able to get a set up (full face mask, extra long tubing, etc) that worked for me. Even more valuable was the friendship and encouragement I received during my quest to get my C-Pap therapy as efficient as possible.

My time at sleepnet.com ended when the site creator decided not to allow participants to post or exchange email addresses. Fortunately, I already had contact info for some of the folks that I corresponded off-forum with. One of these was "Mr. D."

Mr. D and I have corresponded now for over 10 years. He is an elderly gent who puts one in mind of Santa Claus. He has more lives than a cat and is still hanging in there, despite many severe chronic health issues. Mr. D. has a number of dogs and when the weather turns cold, he jokes that to get warm he just puts another pup on the bed. Mr. D. scoots around in his mobility scooter, works on his house, and paints pictures in his studio. Since his wife has had to enter a nursing home, Mr. D lives alone.

There have been times when Mr. D has been out of touch for several weeks or even months. Each time, I have feared the worst. But, then, out of the blue comes a email from him. And each time this happens, I rejoice that my "unseen" friend is still out there. I picture him curled up in his bed, with his beloved dogs around him.

And I smile.