Life requires lots of bubble wrap

This past year has been such an emotional roller coaster of fear, hope, despair, prayer, love, and a miracle.

Tuesday, my husband hurt enough he wanted me to get him into the doctor. Took him for an appointment with the PA, who sent him to have a CAT scan. Everything we were told made us know nothing was going to be good, and it wasn't. When we walked in the door, the phone started ringing. The doctor called us himself and told me to get Robert to the ER right then. He had a hernia with a section of the bowel protruding.

Robert's health is not good. He has three or four blockages in his heart and a very weak heart. He wouldn't survive surgery to correct the problems, due to his congestive heart failure. We knew that any surgery would be very risky.

Sure enough, the ER doctor told us a surgeon would be called in, but the outcome could be very fatal -- with or without surgery.

To cut a long, fearful story short, they scheduled him for surgery Thursday morning. He suffered greatly from Tuesday to Thursday. Our sons flew or drove to get here. Two of our granddaughters and a great-grandson stayed close, visiting for long hours.

Thursday before the operation, the surgeon and the anesthesiologist spoke with Robert and family members. They stressed the fact that Robert had only a slim chance of survival. However, not having surgery was as dangerous if not more so.

We discussed the pros and cons, but Robert had to make the final choice. He told us he wanted to still live, but not in that much pain and not able to do anything. He said, if he died, he was ready. He would either see us after surgery or whenever we left this life.

Due to some wise decisions on the part of the two doctors, he didn't have to have general anesthesia, causing less stress on his back. The surgeon came to the waiting room, grinning ear to ear. "It worked."

Robert spent almost two days in ICU because of arrhythmia, but they moved him back to a regular room last night.

He's weak, tires easily, but he's doing remarkably well considering.

We saw a miracle this week.

Thank God.

Our youngest told his dad, "That's seven. You only have two left."

Schedule changed

I was going to blog about the new 4RV Publishing catalog, but as so often happens in life, my plans were changed -- do to a death in the family.

Why do we humans think we can plan our destinies? I had the week all mapped out the way I thought it should go. Then, a phone call changes everything and makes my thoughts so unimportant.

My youngest child's wife's parents and my husband and I are close friends. In fact, we became one combined family when my son married their daughter. Their son passed away this morning, but the losers are those left with empty spots in their lives and hearts: parents, sister, nephews, brother-in-law, friends, and other family members.

The lesson is life is short and can end without warning. We don't know when we'll say goodbye or if we'll have the opportunity to do so. The last time I saw Jerrald, a little over a week ago, he seemed happy and relaxed. He visited and joked -- left a wonderful picture to remember. He now is free of the wheel chair and limitations of a body that no longer worked. Yes, he's in a better place without pain and discomfort.

Goodbye, Jerrald. Dance all over heaven.

What a life

I sit here, a dish of tamale casserole for lunch by my elbow. I look around and see the many blessings that surround me.

Let's start with the yummy casserole which my husband baked last night. He may have a limited menu, but he's enlarging it all the time. He and I take turns cooking for each other. Not many men, especially men with his possible excuses, would be the help he is.

Which leads me to one of my greatest blessings: Robert, my husband of nearly 49 years. Up toward the top of the list, close to him, are three children, each with his or her own personality and talents.

Rene is a marvelous musician and song writer, attending college to get that degree and a member of the dean's honor roll, and she's the mother of five of my grandchildren. She wrapped her daddy and me around her finger minutes after she was born. We treasure the CDs of her music.

Robert, Jr. "Bob" is well named. He has many of his father's qualities, including the ability to work with his hands. Of course he uses his mental ability and talents he developed as a child through adulthood in his job, but he still likes to build things. His artistic talent is amazing, and one of his paintings hangs in my living room. He and his wife Brenda brought two beautiful granddaughters into the family.

Randel "Randy" could be anything he wished to be and chose to mix intelligence with athletics to be a teacher and coach. He can sing, write music, and play the guitar. He can teach and show young people how to play football, basketball, and baseball. With his wife Janelle, he provided three grandsons to carry on the family name. My "baby boy" is a big man, and not only physically.

Of course, our 10 grandchildren are blessings beyond compare, as are our great-grandchildren. God has been good.

I may complain about my "new" knee, since sometimes it gives me problems, but I'm thankful that I can walk.

I may struggle at times physically, but Saturday, with the help of my good friend Jacque, I'll be taking books to the Oklahoma Book and Author Showcase in Tulsa. I hope many people come visit, and maybe even buy some books.

No matter how discouraged I may be, or how bad things may seem, life could be much worse. God is good.

Sunday - celebration of the Son Rising

Friday many, many years ago was a day when the sun didn't shine, a day of sorrow and despair. The disciples and followers and family members saw their lives in ruins. Yes, the crucifixion happened over 2,000 years ago, but no "death" has ever impacted the world as much as the death of Jesus.

But something else happened. Jesus wasn't just a good man, a prophet who died a horrible death. The event that made the difference is He didn't stay in the tomb.

In my front yard is a white cross, toward the street can be seen the plain white figure. Sunday morning, the cross will be turned around so that the words "He is Risen" is revealed for all to see.

Yes, Easter is the celebration of not the sun rising in the east as usual, but it marks the wonder of the Son rising.

Happy Easter.

Need for bubble wrap

Life goes on, one breath at a time. Need some brain cells to help me figure out how to beat asthma or lots of bubble wrap to survive it. I've heard that heart attack is the silent killer, but asthma must be the loud one. *cough* *cough* *cough* Someone please remove this elephant off my chest.

However, a breathing treatment helps, and if need be, I can take steriods, where other problems might not be as manageable. So, I need to count my blessings and not whimper so much.

I've had friends who suffered through cancer and the difficult treatments involved. Some survived; some didn't. I've been blessed. I've had loved one suffer heart attacks and stokes. My husband is in a power chair. My heart is in good shape, and with careful managing of my diabetes, a stroke isn't as likely as for some people. I can still walk, even if not far or well. Yes, I am thankful.

The homeless haven't roofs over their heads or often no food. I have a roof, even if it leaks at times, and perhaps too much food. Many reasons to be grateful. ... continue

Some people don't have family or friends, no one or few who care. I have a husband I've known for 47 years, and who will celebrate our 47th anniversary with me in February. I have three children whom I love and who love me. Ten grandchildren and four (a fifth on the way) great-grandchildren really think Granny is just great. I have many online friends and reality based friends, five are exceptionally close. I am more than blessed.

I try to count those blessings when I'm feeling low or a bit neglected or not very well. Then I can face what comes and continue on my way -- wrapped in loving bubble wrap.

Life goes on

Yes, life goes on, some times even when we don't know why or how. Brain cells don't always help, just a thick layer of bubble wrap.

A dear friend of mine fought cancer for nearly three years, and I do mean fought. She wasn't the first, just the latest, who left friends and family behind. As I attended her memorial service Tuesday night, I remembered the last time I visited with her.

Judy had gone to stay with her daughter in south Texas. She was unable to care for herself, and of Judy's four children, Jonna was the one who was able to be with her.

I called about a month ago, and Jonna held the phone to Judy's ear. Some moans and struggling sounds were all I could hear because my friend couldn't talk. However I told her I loved her and I said my goodbye's, telling her I'd see her again some day. Jonna told me that Judy smiled and understood me and that she tried to talk so badly. I cried that day for my friend, knowing I'd never be able to talk to her again or see her again, at least on this earth.

Judy held on for three weeks, unable to eat, most of the time in a comma. Her daughter and son-in-law went to bed each night expecting to see her gone when they awoke each morning. The morning before Judy died, Jonna went to her room and, as always, asked, "How are you, Mom."

Judy smiled and answered, "I'm fine." Her first words in such a long time. For the rest of the day, she was without pain. In the wee hours of the next day, she no longer felt pain of any kind.

At the memorial, I held Judy's youngest two daughters as they cried. Justina, the next to the youngest, introduced me as her second mother. Tonnie, the wife of Judy's only son, gave me a beautiful embroidred hanky, created by her to give to the special people in Judy's life.

I sit here crying again, but even though I'll miss her, I know she's fine now. Life goes on for her family and friends, just missing an important component. But Judy's smile and laugh will be with us forever.

Judy was my friend and always will be. I'll be fine, too, just don't want to lose any more friends. True friends are few and far between.