Monthly Archives:October 2018

It’s the little things

October 29th, 2018 / Categories: Family / 2 Comments »

As I sat in my chair last night, working on a Christmas gift for one of the family, I smiled listening to hubby chuckle at the TV. I would look up and see whatever thing he pointed out to me, agree that it was funny, chuckle myself, and go on back to what I was doing.

Camaraderie – celebration – togetherness – all these and more.

It has been a rough month or so for my heArt. At the end of last month he thought he had a lingering cold. I was busy with work trips to the big city and could not keep a close eye on him. Early in the morning (just after midnight) on October 5th I was awakened by him yelling from his chair. I’d been sleeping soundly in my bed.

He couldn’t breathe he told me in gasps.

I called 9-1-1. Then I got dressed and made sure lights were on so the EMTs could see which house they were needed to attend. They hooked him up to oxygen and transported him to the hospital 9 miles away as I followed in my car.

Congestive Heart Failure. Well, they kept saying CHF – so as not to scare me, I guess. But I was armed with my cell phone and google and soon knew what the initials stood for. All the better to be prepared for whatever might come next.

Three years ago none of us were prepared when he suffered a cardiac arrest and was transported via helicopter to Anchorage.

This time I knew what might lie ahead. The nurse, ER doc and the hospitalist all conferred. Tests were run. Lasix was started. The man started to lose some of the fluid that was strangling him, thankfully. There was discussion of admitting him to the hospital (or, life flighting him to Anchorage). Discussion continued once Anchorage was ruled out about whether to admit to the medical floor or to the Intensive Care Unit.

Finally he was discharged back into my care with orders to get in to see his internist ASAP.

We are now 24 days in to this next chapter of my heArt’s saga. We’ve seen his doctors three times. A heart echo is scheduled and another trip to the doctor after that. We will see his cardiologist as soon as we can get in to that office.

And, as he improves and sits there chuckling at something inane on the TV I smile and knit, smile and knit, smile and knit.

We don’t know how much longer we have together. We are enjoying these days as they come. It’s the little things, you see. It’s the breakfast banter each morning with two of the grands. It’s the giggling coming from the garage as he teaches the oldest granddaughter how to braid a whip. It’s the stories I hear after work about another grandson and his girlfriend coming by to do their laundry.

It’s the “Graaaaaaand-paw!” and the “Gramps” and the “old man” or “Pops” terminology as each daughter and son-in-love and grandchild calls or stops by to banter and bestow (and receive) love from my heArt.

It’s the hopeful plans we have of returning to the “scene of the crime” to celebrate our 50th anniversary in the spring with friends in Ohio. It’s the hopeful plans of then celebrating with family and friends here in Alaska on the real date of our anniversary.

Those things keep us going. Those things remind us to say “I love you” each time we part, if even for a trip to the store.

You never know.

Family Musings

October 21st, 2018 / Categories: Family, Moose Nuggets / Comments Closed

Aren’t we the cutest? An older cousin sent me a flash drive with old super 8 videos his father had taken over the years. Most of them, appropriately, are of his family. However, in watching them I found a few pics of us that I could glean. This one is of me and my baby sister. We were likely 4 and 3. Just guessing, of course, as the videos did not have dates on them like old pics.

This was taken in front of my dad’s mother’s house. Mom-Mom was a formidable woman. She would sit out on that swing (more appropriately, glider) every night after the day’s chores were done. She’d swing and we would play. Some (most) nights we were entertained by a neighbor catty corner across the street who would come out and fight his son. Outside of my own home that was my first experience with domestic violence.

Mom-Mom had her own story – not one to which I was privy until I was much older. By much older I mean just a few years ago when a cousin and I were talking and she filled me in on some things my mother would have never told me. Some of the things I knew: she had a large family – dad was one of 12 kids. She and her husband did not speak for years. He would come in and place his pay packet on the table and go to his room. When I was 3 he committed suicide. Mom-Mom survived and nurtured her flock in her own way.
That’s Mom-Mom on the right. (Aunt Mary on the left) Mom-Mom’s home was the one the clan came to when they were put on the street for whatever reason. Our family lived with her for a period of time. I was frightened often by the robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door. It swayed as people walked through the hall and I felt it was some sort of ghostly visage staring at me – coming for me. I was young.

I remember being about 3 or 4 and having terrible growing pains. My legs ached interminably. I cried inconsolably. Finally my dad and Mom wrapped me up in blankets and we drove to Mom-Mom. There she and the aunts and my Mom broke dozens of eggs (she had chickens in her yard), separated them and coated my legs with the whites. Mom-Mom told everyone that as the whites dried they would draw up the skin on my legs tightly and would take away the pain. Did it work? I’m not sure if that did, but I felt loved and cherished as many hands ministered to me and wrapped me up warmly for the trip home. I fell asleep knowing that – at least at that moment – I was loved.

Family, It comes with the good and the bad. It comes with love and hate. It comes with joys and sorrows. But it is family all the same.

Thanks to my cousin Don for sending the videos. Thanks to my cousin Linda who helps unlock some of the mysteries of family.

Blog Walk

October 20th, 2018 / Categories: Family, Hear Me / 2 Comments »

Remember when we used to blog and blog and blog? Remember when we used to take blog walks around the ‘net and leave comments on each others’ pages?

Along came “social media” full of more trolls than we ever saw in blog-dom. Although we had quite a few trolls, didn’t we? Oh, and remember the misunderstandings and the little wars that broke out with long standing internet blogging friends rushing in to defend friends from such? There was no such thing as an emoji back then. We made do with semi colons and parentheses to emotionalize our (funny to us, hurtful to some) comments. (took a few wars for us to figure out a way to get around that.)

I tire of much that goes on in social media . . . and yet I am drawn to it as a moth to flame. I get drawn into discussions I would be better off not getting into. It is nobody’s fault. I am totally human, you see. I want to stand up for things I believe in. I want to promote healthy relationships and well-being and love, always love.

And, in walks dissension and politics and hate, always hate.

I miss the old days. Even with the battles and trolls there was still humor and joy, always joy.

I went for a blog walk tonight and found only ONE of my former every day writers still writing. I am thrilled to see her still posting. Others have not done so since 2013! And yes, I am not much better. That durned social media keeps pulling me in for the quick fix.

Challenging myself to step back and take back part of myself by coming here to write. Challenging you to maybe do the same?

I still will be involved in social media. I will still be vocal about those things which impassion me. That inner beast has been woken and I hope it does not quickly go back to sleep. It is too important to understand that those who come after us – our children, our grandchildren and the greats beyond – must know what life was like before. They must know the paths we have trod through and mountains we have crossed in order for their lives to be more comfortable than our foremothers trod, crossed and lived.

If we do not care about the world in which we live – with all of its loveliness, its ugliness, its charm and possible growth – how are those future loved ones of ours to care?

Challenge accepted.