Smart

*****Rant Alert*****

Over the past few weeks, I have encountered many "smart" people, both children and adults. Kids with high IQ's who are achieving high grades in school. And adults who are not working, going to school, or doing anything really significant. What happened to these over-acheiving children? They were so smart. I thought they were going to conquer the world. What happened?

The only answer I can come up with is LIFE happened. These kids get plenty of book knowledge in school. But they don't seem to get life skills. Kids don't know how to cope with adversity, because many simply have never had to face it. Mom or Dad make sure that they never face the consequences of their actions. Things are always the "teacher's fault." Many kids don't have a concept of budgeting or saving for things they need. They are afraid to take risks and "just do it." They have never been taught how to fail.

I just want to shake these adults and say "Go to college, live in a ratty dorm, and eat Ramen noodles. You will survive and you will have an education that no one can ever take away from you." I want to say "Take the fast food/retail job. You will learn skills that will serve you well in life. Things like the fact that, in life, you are going to have to take orders from people without your level of intellect." I want to send them to classes to learn life skills if they have not learned them from parents or grandparents. And, if they really don't have a clue where they want to go in life, tell them to join a volunteer organization like "Americorps" that will help them clarify their goals. Or, join the military. 

Just DO something. 

Together for Christmas

Today is the 21st anniversary of my mother's death. I remember spending Christmas Day 1990 sitting in the ICU waiting room of the Vicksburg hospital struggling to let go of my Mama. On paper, the date is the 26th, when the doctor got there after midnight to pronounce her dead. But, she was gone Christmas night.


Since then, Christmas has been bittersweet. It was my Mama's favorite holiday and she went all out. After her death, I cut way back on things. Less spending, less cooking, less decorating. Trying to find someone off the "beaten path" to help. Not necessarily bad things. And eventually, as time passed, I began to truly enjoy parts of Christmas again.


But now, with my Daddy dead only 10 days, I am now spending the wee hours of Christmas morning in tears. It is like I am not only grieving his loss, but the loss of my mother again as well. Both gone, right here at Christmas time.


The one thought that brings me comfort at this point that my Mama and Daddy are together for Christmas, once again. And not just together, but in Heaven to boot. 


So, I will mourn my losses and hope that time once again heals me enough to enjoy the Celebration of the birth of Jesus once again. 

Sorting Through

One of today's tasks was to meet with the rest of my family to sort through some of my Daddy's things. I will be the first to admit, I am not good at this sort of thing. Even with the person gone, it seems like such an intrusion to go through their drawers, closets, and desks. 


As the others picked out things to keep as mementos, I found very little need for this. I am at a point where I am trying to simplify my life and get rid of the "things" that are not really useful or beautiful. I have photos, both displayed and on my electronic devices. My memories are safe in my head (at least for the moment). I did bring home a small coin bank that my Daddy has possessed as a child, simply because I liked it and found it charming. 


Twenty one years ago, it was much harder to part with my mother's things. While the rest of my family tossed, I gathered and boxed for going through at a later date. I guess that need for tangible things has diminished as I grow older and realize that the real "mementos" are the gifts my parents gave me growing up. I learned to be resourceful, generous, helpful, and (most of the time) kind from my parents. I learned the value of a dollar and how to work for it early on. I learned the importance of family and being there for each other. 


And these mementos are the ones that really count. 

Timing

My Daddy went "home" on Thursday night, December 15th. 


In the past, I have never really understood when a deceased person's loved ones said things like "It was a blessing" or "He/She is not suffering anymore." I do now. 


Watching my Daddy weaken, become disoriented, and struggle for breath was the hardest thing I have ever had to watch. By the final days of my Daddy's life, I was begging God to take him home. 


Now I am the one saying "It was a blessing." Don't get me wrong. I will miss my Daddy terribly. But he is not suffering anymore. 


And I am beyond thankful.

Decisions, Decisions

I will be the first to admit that decision making is not the easiest thing for me. I don't make them lightly or without a fair amount of thought and prayer. The hardest ones are those "lesser of two evils" decisions. Does one take chemo and live 2 years? Or is quality more important than quantity? Does one stay in a dating relationship that is safe, but no longer healthy? If a teen is depressed and suicidal, is a solution that helps keep that child alive OK, even if it is not the ultimate one? 

I know these decisions are inevitable. They are part of life. But that does not make them any easier. 

The Curse of Libra?

According to astrology (which I take with a healthy grain of salt, btw!), I am a LIbra, represented by the scales. Librans tend to want things balanced, can see many sides of a story, and like fair play. These characteristics fit me to a "T."


Being able to see more than one side of a story was essential to my work as a counselor. I was not allowed to choose my clients. I saw the people I was assigned. And I had to find a way to connect with them. Yes, even the sex offenders, the thieves, and the abusers. 


Don't get me wrong. Some of the crimes I heard about were horrendous. And I DON'T  excuse them. But there was almost always more than one side to the story. A mother who was arrested for child neglect was a teen "throwaway" child whose boyfriend would beat her up if she neglected HIS needs for the needs of her child. The thief was a gentle lady who had gotten caught up in gambling and was terrified after the person she owed money to threatened her child. And in some cases, a person's mind simply could not "take in" situations if he or she had been through a similar trauma. 


We also tend to filter our reactions to things through our own experiences or where we are in life.  I am not a mother, so there are things that don't hit me as hard.  However, situations involving elderly people (as I care for my seriously ill father) tug at my heartstrings in a big way. 


Nothing is completely black or white with me, and I have to be careful about voicing my to people who are (sometimes mercifully!) able to see the world that way. 


I always see shades of gray. 

The Dressing

"The Dressing" has been almost a sacred ritual in my family since I can remember. This is true "Southern" dressing made with cornbread, as opposed to "Yankee" dressing made with "light bread." Most true Southerners shudder at the thought of light bread dressing. 


My Mama and Daddy used to make the dressing together at Thanksgiving. Since Mama's death, Daddy has continued to make the dressing, with subtle changes over the years, but it is pretty much the same recipe. 


Daddy has been quite ill this Fall and for the first time since I can remember, was not up to "hosting" Thanksgiving this year. I volunteered to make his dressing for him and deliver it this year. This was a huge step, a changing of the guard in the dressing making hierarchy. 


Of course, Daddy was unable to let go completely. He called one day to make certain that I knew to use fresh broth instead of canned and to make sure I put in mostly dark meat. He even gave me the specific chicken parts he wanted used. It was to be baked in a 4 inch deep dish. The Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix I used in conjunction with the corn bread had to be the CORNBREAD version of the stuffing mix. Celery and onions could not be chopped in a food processor. They had to be done by hand, with the pieces coming out about the size of my little fingernail. Since he and my stepmom both love sage, the tablespoonful for the dressing was to be "slightly heaping." 


By the time I was ready to make the dressing, I was somewhat anxious. What if my dressing did not measure up? Horrors! 


I watched my Daddy as he scooped up his first forkful of my dressing, waiting for a response. I did not realize that I was actually holding my breath until he chewed, swallowed...


And pronounced it "perfect." 

R&R

Tomorrow, I will get in my minivan, crank up some music and head to Columbus, Mississippi. There, I will meet up with my long time best friend, Teresa, and we will tour antebellum homes, eat, sit in the hot tub, and sleep as late as we want to for three glorious days and nights. 


Teresa has been my friend for so long that most of the time, words need not even be exchanged. We can convey volumes with just a look or a gesture. And we have a tendency to burst into song at the drop of a hat. 


Coming off of a summer of illness and crisis for me and loved ones, I need this break desperately. I am letting other family members handle things for a few days. I have to rest and recharge my body, my mind, and my spirit. I can't afford not to. 

iPhone 4s

On Friday, Oct. 14th, I did something I never thought I would do. I drove to the Apple Store in Jackson to get in line for the newest incarnation of the iPhone on the actual day it came out. I skipped the "4" altogether. I can't afford to upgrade every time a new iPhone comes out. But the timing of this was perfect. Two days after my birthday, with birthday money in hand, I decided to go for the 4s. 


When I got to the store, the first wave of customers had already come and gone. The store was full, but I was ushered in and quickly set up with a white, 32 gig model. As I exited the store, clutching my new toy, a reporter from "The Clarion Ledger" asked for an interview that would be quoted in the next days business section. How cool was that? 


I am actually not one who has to have the latest or most expensive gadget. I saved my money for almost a year and waited until the second iPad came out before I bit. What a difference being able to read on that thing has made in my life! My iMac was another thing that I did not buy until my old PC crashed and burned. A Mac just happened to suit my particular computer needs better than a PC by then. I did not get an iPhone until the 3Gs came out. 


So far, I love my 4s! It is much faster than the 3Gs. The battery life is longer. It has more capacity than my former phone so I can load more of my music and my e-books on it. And it has "Siri", that voice activated personal assistant that is getting so much attention. I have to admit, I am loving this feature! Today I was able to find a friend the name of an Italian restaurant in Clinton, create a reminder to pick up my medicine, and find all the United Methodist churches in Warren County. Pretty cool!


Over the past month, life has changed rather drastically. Not just for me, but for several loved ones. I foresee a fair amount of sitting in doctors office waiting rooms and hospitals. Being able to read, listen to music, check my email, Facebook, and text easily makes a huge difference and may just save my sanity. (If I ever had any. That is debatable!) 


Thanks again, Apple. 

Wireless

Last week, I purchased an early birthday gift, to me, from me. Sony wireless headphones from newegg.com. 


These headphones including shipping were slightly less than $40.00. I can already tell that this is some of the best money I have ever spent. They work quite well, the sound quality is pretty nice for the price, and best of all, I can watch TV and movies freely without worrying about disturbing my husband who is often in bed by 9PM.


Before my headphones, I would try to watch TV in our small home, but always cringed when a noisy commercial came on before I could find the mute button. I love to read, but by evening, my vision is too blurred to do much of that. Depending on vision and hand stiffness, painting is often out by late evening. So, I depend on the "boob tube" to keep me company when I am up till 1 and 2 AM. I can DVR and watch all the stuff my husband is not fond of like "Dancing With the Stars", "Say Yes to the Dress", "Project Runway", and "America's Got Talent." Hey, I need my doses of mindless TV every now and then. And I have to have my periodic Anderson Cooper and Piers Morgan fixes as well. 


A new "Coach" store is opening in our outlet mall today. I couldn't care less. Forget fancy purses and shoes. Forget fine jewelry. 


For me, it is all about electronics. 


Call me "Gadget Girl".

The Age of Cancer

Over the past couple of weeks, several friends and loved ones of mine have been either diagnosed with cancer or that their cancer has returned. Coincidentally, all of these folks have been over the age of 70. But, they also are people who have, up until now, been active and independent. None of them have any problems with dementia. None of them were down physically, other than with some normal things that happen with age, such as osteoarthritis. Shoot, most of them can run circles around me!


So why, when sharing news and asking for prayers, has age come up as the primary issue? In these days of better health care, increased awareness, and prevention, 80 is really no longer what I personally call "old." My church has several members over the age of 90 who still live independently, drive their cars (safely, I might add!) and take care of their friends and families. 


I feel the same way about the cancer diagnoses of my 70+ friends and loved ones as I do when I hear of a loved one 30 years younger being diagnosed. It may be a harder fight, but, depending on the individual, that fight can still be worth it. 


And it can be won. 

Attack of the Superwomen

I am not Superwoman. I admit, there was a time when I wanted to be. I was going to be the one who could do it all. And not just do it all, but with style, grace, and ease. 


Chronic illness helped knock the desire to be Superwoman out of me. I began to realize how much of my identity was tied up with "doing." It took a while for me to be at peace with just "being".  Of course, I still "do." But, I don't have to do things better than anyone else. I don't have to do "more." 


This peace has been tested this week. I have been in a situation where I have had to sit back on my little red scooter and watch others "do it all".  My relatively small offerings have been minimized and eclipsed. I just have to hope that my efforts have made some differences where it really counts and to not worry about the scope of them. 


Can I "not" do it all with style and grace? Stay tuned.

The Verdict

After being in pain for most of the summer and being poked and prodded for a month, the verdict is costochondritis. This is severe inflammation of the cartilage that connects the ribs to the sternum. 


http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/costochondritis/DS00626


According to my neuromuscular doc, this condition is fairly common in people who have multiple autoimmune diseases. That includes me. 


Getting my heart, stomach, and gallbladder checked out were, according to my doc, the appropriate things to do, given my family history and age. But, in the end, it was benign, but painful, inflammation that was the trouble. 


I feel like I "lost" my summer, between being in too much pain to function well and being in hospitals and doctor's offices. But, the upside is that, after 2 1/2 months, I am finally feeling human again. 


Just in time for Fall. 

Frustration

One of the most frustrating things about being disabled is inability to guarantee someone that I will be completely and totally reliable. When I was healthy, I always took great pride in being dependable. And even sick, if a crisis occurred, I was going to find someone to cover for me or at the very least call (sometimes removing my oxygen mask in an ER, much to the consternation of the medical staff) to let someone know that I would not make an appointment. 

I know that people in charge of things have to make sure that things are covered. But I get discouraged when tasks and opportunities are taken from me "just in case." I try very hard to pace myself and do the best I possibly can to make sure I can meet the things I commit to. I may not get things done quite as fast as a "non disabled" person. But, I daresay, I fulfill my obligations better than a lot of healthy people I know! 

Believe me. I will be the first person to take myself out of the game if I cannot perform a duty well and in a timely manner. 

Don't dwell on my disabilities. Dwell on my abilities. 

The "Box"

A year ago today, I took a gamble and became part of a new gift and consignment shop called "The Cricket Box." Little did I know what a blessing I was in for!

I am now selling enough art to keep myself in supplies, donate to charity, and make a bit of profit. People tell me that looking at my "wall" makes them smile. This is all I could ask for.

Forming relationships with other vendors has also been a wonderful experience. Most of us help each other out whether it is hammering a nail that is *just* out of reach or helping someone create a Facebook page. If a friend or acquaintance is looking for something, we direct them to our fellow vendors at the "Box."

But, by far, the biggest blessing has been getting to know the owners of this amazing operation, Debbie Tate and Judy Wooley. They have not only managed to start a business (yes, in THIS economy!), but they  manage their business with grace. And they always have a smile and an encouraging word for us vendors. They make it a pleasant place just to "be."

A year ago, I took a $100.00 gamble on myself.

And won.

A Proper Funeral

Yesterday, I was privileged to attend the funeral service for a longtime family friend, Miss Jean.

It was a very proper service, the likes of which I had not seen in some time. Almost everyone was dressed in "Sunday best" attire which to me is a sign of respect for the church in which the service is held as well as for the deceased.

The choir that Miss Jean had accompanied sang favorite old hymns in voices that quavered a bit at times. Pallbearers marched in wearing dark suits and white gloves. Large white carnations, which would later be placed on the casket, adorned their lapels.

One of Jean's friends stood and shared stories about her. The pastor, a wonderfully upbeat fellow, did his best to make the service a celebration of Jean's life and focused on her "new" pain and struggle-free life with Jesus.

After the service, the pall bearers marched out behind the casket and after it was put in the hearse, stood still and faced the bereaved as they exited the church.

I did not stay for the repast after the service. However, I could tell that there was going to be quite a feast for Jean's friends and family when they returned from the graveside where she was laid to rest beside her husband.

Music, flowers, laughter, tears, and fellowship. I think Miss Jean would have approved.

Rest in peace sweet lady.

Hurricane Party

As I was watching coverage of Hurricane Irene, this video came on CNN. Rather than submit to the uncertainties of shelter life, these feisty senior citizens chose to ride out the hurricane in their retirement apartment building.

I can't say that I blame them. As they pointed out, some of them had serious medical conditions that would make trying to sleep on cots difficult to impossible. And what about their medical equipment, special diets, etc?

It made me think about what I would do if faced with that choice. I might get down on one of those shelter cots. But it would take several people to get me UP. And if they had to do that every time I had to go to the bathroom, it would be a full time job!

Would I be able to hook up my biPap? I stop breathing at least once every minute and a half to two minutes without it and wake up in a total fog and with a terrible headache.

And would my medicines be safe? I take too many to carry around in my purse all the time. Especially if they were all in bottles. Not to mention epi-pens, inhalers, my nebulizer, my walker and my scooter. I am seriously high maintenance!

I have to admit, I would probably take my cue from those seniors and stay home.

And pray. A lot.

A Grace Moment

Tonight I had what I call a "grace moment." One of those times when, unexpectedly, a burden is lifted. A dreaded task does not have to be performed. A day does not have to be completely juggled and reconfigured.

I would have performed this task with all of the grace I could muster. But, I was concerned about how my body was going to hold up in the heat that is expected tomorrow. Not knowing how far I might have to walk and what assistive device I would need. Whether the chest pains that leave me slightly lightheaded and short of breath would plague me at an inopportune time. Sometimes, even with my limitations, I am "it." 

But now I can go to bed, hopefully to sleep. 

And say a prayer of thanksgiving for my "grace moment." 

Sapped

 

I have been in "extra" pain for almost 7 weeks now. I am in the process of being poked, prodded, and tested to find the source of the unrelenting chest pain. My heart has pretty much been cleared. This is good. But, I am still hurting.

I am no stranger to pain. I have been in varying degrees of discomfort/pain since I fractured my back in a bus crash at age 18 . I also have scoliosis and other back and neck issues. Chiropractic care helps me keep the pain at a manageable level for the most part. I take only an occasional OTC Aleve or Tylenol. 

But being at this level of pain is affecting both my energy and my creativity. My mind is so occupied with "keeping going" that I don't seem to have the energy left to be truly creative. And this lack of creativity is wearing on my spirit. 

I am sapped. 

CAPTCHA

This is the name of those codes that one must type in so that a site can make sure responses are generated by a real person. For most people, these are not hard to figure out and type in. 

But for someone like myself, who deals with bouts of double vision due to the the neuromuscular disease, myasthenia gravis, it can be impossible to read and reproduce these codes. Many of them contain letters that are slightly doubled to begin with. That means I see FOUR of the characters. Even when I greatly increase the size of the text, which I do for almost all webpages, I still can't figure them out. This affects my ability to do things ranging from commenting on a blog post, to making an online purchase. 

And yes, I have tried to use the audio version of these CAPTCHA codes. I have yet to be able to understand one of them. That robotic voice is as indecipherable to my ears as the letters are to my eyes!

There has to be a better way. 

Really.