Have you ever been sad? What does sad feel like?…
It was October 17 1969. I was a sophomore, no driver’s license yet. Steve had celebrated his 16th birthday a few days earlier. No one would have guessed that he was two months plus a few days older than me. I was 8 inches taller and could grow a beard. 5 months earlier, Steve threw the ball to me that became the result of one of the most embarrasing moments of my life. With most of our school watching, and after catching the ball and runnning for a touchdown, Bryan Tucket went for my flag but caught my pants and rip...off they came, exposing me in my jockstrap with my butt mooning the student body. I am still reminded about that catch 40 years later. I can laugh about it now...but then...kids can be tough. Lucky I was bigger than all of them.
There was a homecoming stomp at Highland that night. He called me and asked if I wanted to go…Of course we went. We both danced a little…I don’t remember who with. I have always loved to dance. Shar’s biggest fight with me was over dancing. Well... It was her company party at the Fort Douglas Club. The dinner was fabulous and the band was even better. Shar and I danced a little…It was obvious she didn’t enjoy it as much as I did back in the late 1970’s. Her boss, who was stoned drunk asked Shar if she would share me and let me dance with her…a little part of Shar was happy to have her boss try her skills on the dance floor with me. She let it all go and didn’t remember a thing the next day…So did I, and I remembered everything. Half way through our second dance, I noticed everybody had stopped dancing and now were circling us and clapping and urging us to get even wilder. We did…Shar left and went and sat in the car. She was so embarrassed. If she could, she would join me today and we would dance the night away. We had that opportunity a few years ago at my cousin’s wedding. The band was fabulous. So was she.
Steve and I eventually found our way sitting on the hard wood floor in the far Northeast corner of the Gym. It was noisy but the conversation soon blanked out everything else as though we were the only ones around. We were friends…best friends…and we could talk about anything but didn’t very often…we could talk about sports and girls and school and homework…this night the discussion started with the World Series. Brook Robinson, the hall of famer 3rd Baseman was the most valuable player in a 5 game series that surprised the experts. The Baltimore Orioles beat the Big Red Machine of Cincinnati. Steve was a baseball player. He was a really good baseball player. He was a sure thing when it came to making the varsity team as a sophomore playing 2nd or 3rd base, but that would have to wait until spring. He was going to try out for the basketball team so we talked about who would letter first. Getting your letter jacket was a big thing back in 1969. The things kids talk about. I was hoping to make the basketball varsity team in a few weeks. I had played most of the day shooting at the ward house on Foothill preparing for tryouts. Steve was hoping for the sophomore team.
We left the stomp early. The girls we liked didn't show up. We were happy by ourselves that night. I called my mother from the payphone just outside the gym to let her know that I would call her from Steve’s house. There was a bank of three phones attached to the red brick entry wall where we would always enter when there was a game or when I was late for school. When was the last time I used a pay phone? I don’t remember. We walked with a pace of a turtle. We were not in a hurry. We stopped a few times just to layout on a lawn. We laughed, probably waking up kids that their parents had just put down to bed. We were loud. The things we learn as we age.
It was a warm October night and the moon lit up the sky. Steve's street is the same today…it was lined with large Elm trees. The trees always made Steve’s street seem very dark. There was always shade on those hot summer days. No sun block was needed. This night you could see for a hundred yards or more. The moon light wove through the drooping branches of the trees. We talked about how weird that was.
We sat under the tree in his front yard leaning up against the large edgy trunk where the conversation turned spiritual. Steve was to be ordained a Priest the next morning. We talked about that and our belief in God. We asked the questions that no one has the answers for. I am still asking those same questions. We laughed, we even cried when Mark Newsom was remembered. He had died in a motor cycle accident just before school started in August. He was so talented. Music was his love. Perfect pitch…nobody had perfect pitch, but he did. We sang in boy’s glee together. I miss him.
I had forgotten to call my mom back until after midnight. I heard about it when she finally came to get me. It was almost 1 AM. Steve waited with me until she came. His parents had gone to bed an hour earlier. As the car lights glimmered from around the corner we both stood and gave each other a sporty hug and told each other we would see each other on Monday. I wished him luck with his ordination and told him I was going to get my letterman’s jacket first. “I will make the team”. He laughed, and I was gone.It was around 6:00 PM on Sunday. Less that a day had passed when my dad called me to the phone. It’s a girl…Ann Barker, who I had a crush on in the 9th grade was calling. Have you heard the news? She was crying….Steve is dead – Steve is dead. I was Curts age...15 years old. "What do you mean?" ….He was with Bruce Nelson and 4 others when there jeep turned over and crushed him. He died instantly…nobody else was hurt. The reality had not sunk in but the words hurt and I began to cry. I thanked Ann for letting me know and then went to my room and cried all night. My parents came in and cried with me. What do parents do? I appreciated them that night and the following months. They helped me through. I got some of that same practice with Jami when Jeff died… and when Ashley died, I was there to tell Chelsea. You can never get those moments just right. You can only just be there. All three died in car accidents, even though Steve was in the hills, off road, when the jeep rolled. He was on the back passenger side of the topless jeep. He was in the wrong spot at the wrong time. I spoke at his funeral. Highlands’s baseball coach, Mr. Hardcastle, came and awarded him his letter just before I spoke. I cried as I shared our conversation from just a few days earlier and then somehow got through my talk. Everyone I knew was there, and we all cried and we were all sad together.
Someone asked me how I was feeling yesterday. I responded, “I am sad”. My friend urged me to talk about it. “I don’t know if I have ever felt more sad”….and then I thought of Steve. It is hard to compare…
Shar’s illness has changed our lives. She is sad about it. I am very sad about it. She is more sad. The ability to change the way things are is hoped for, but the reality of today is hard. There are many diversions that take place everyday that make it easy not to focus on the sadness. We thank everyone for the diversions you create in our lives. We appreciate, so much, the love that has walked through our front, back and side doors. We love the cards and the jokes and the meals and the visits. Everyone has helped take the sadness away. We might get used to this change, but it hasn’t sunk in quite yet…I hope it never does. We hope that things will improve. Hope is a great thing…but waiting…day by day by day is hard and sometimes sad.
As we have gone through this past week we are sad to hear how people treat people when it comes to political things. How sad…The things we think and say and do, sometimes create sadness. We should all listen and show respect even if our expeience and thoughts and feelings are so different. We should all love a little more and more often.
Sadness is one of the emotions that I have experienced over the last few months. It is not my favorite, but it is teaching me. Shar has not written on her blog for a few months…She has been too sad…She just told me she looks like a blow fish…I think I will go in and paint blue and orange stripes on her face. Oh, what we do to push the sadness away. The great thing is that sometimes it really works. Sadness comes and goes…Through it all we are greatful and surprisingly...OK.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Lets Go For a Run
About 10 years ago a treadmill ended up residing in our basement. It had been living at Shar’s parent’s house for quite a few years, but was feeling badly for its non use. Over lunch, hot chicken soup and home made rolls; the decision was made to move it from one basement to ours. It sat in its new surroundings rarely being used because Shar ran outside and I wouldn’t touch it. Shar is a runner. If she is not running, she is thinking it. This morning she wanted to go run. THIS MORNING. The walk from the bedroom to the kitchen did her in so she sadly gave up the dream, at least for today. “Today would be a fabulous day to run around the lake”. Do you want to go?” I looked at her, not quite knowing how to respond. I could feel her deep frustration and sadness. Today she would not be able to run.
Once in a blue moon, whatever that means, Shar would hop on the treadmill and give it a spin. She could run for miles when she was out in Gods beauty, but inside, she would only go a mile or two or three, sometimes just to warm up, or sometimes in the early evening, an hour or so after dinner, when her running partners were not available. It was always in winter, for night came quick and early and Shar was always about safety, not wanting to run alone when it was dark. I had told my sweetheart, on more than one occasion, that we should get rid of that treadmill, that it was only taking up space, and that I would never use it. I tried again when it was time to give the treadmill a new house. I hated to run. Well, I disliked it very much. I couldn’t run. On these occasions I was not her sweetheart.
Shar’s first Marathon was in Las Vegas. I thought she was nuts when she signed up. A trip to sunny and warm Las Vegas would be nice so I did support her, even though I thought she was crazy. I would take my golf clubs and hope to play at the Desert Inn. It is nice to know people, but that didn’t happen on this trip. We traveled down with two other families (dear friends) who had runners and with the original owners of the treadmill and two of their Grandchildren, Jami and Jessica (our two oldest daughters.) Oh, they were cute when they were young. They remind me that they still are.
We were all going down to support Shar and her running friends and hoped to have some fun. The sleeping arrangements were poor. Sleeping with my father in law is similar to trying to catch a few minutes of shuteye inside a hanger where they are testing jet engines 24-7. The only thing to do at midnight to five in the morning in Vegas is to sit at one of the million blackjack tables and try not to loose $20.00. Free orange juice throughout the night was a plus and it sure beat trying to use my imagination to come up with the best sound barrier that I could use to shut down the noise that was going on in room 166. I was not successful and vowed I would never make the mistake again of rooming with my in laws no matter how much I love them. It was 5:00 AM when the gambling money ran out, so I took a walk outside to check the weather. There was a McDonalds that had just opened and it was close to the hotel. I went for some pancakes and sausage, my favorite meal at McDonalds. They had it 30 years ago and you can buy it at your local McDonalds today plus inflation…before 10:30. I have always thought McDonalds could do even better business by serving breakfast all day long. I would visit more.
The walk, across the street and down a half of block, was miserable…it was cold…it was blowing…it was snowing…in VEGAS…I ate quickly and then retreated back to the hotel to make sure Shar was up. Shar, Melissa Wood, her first running mate and best friend (2nd cousin too – they found this out while running one morning when they were talking about a family reunion they both needed to attend) and Rich Pugh needed to get to the buses that would take them to the starting line; 26.2 miles away from the finish line. I was hoping the weather would give the runners a break and the wind would stop, or start to blow in the opposite direction. I knew that for the first 20 miles or so the runners would be running north, which on this morning was like running in the Alaskan Wilderness in a 30 mile an hour head wind. The wind chill was below 0…in Vegas.
They boarded the cold bus and were gone. Many of the runners didn’t even get on board. It was too cold. More of the runners never got off the buses when they reached the starting line…it was freezing.
I returned back to the hotel and laid down for an hour or so. Pres was up and out getting breakfast for he and Carol, and I was beat but it was silent. I couldn’t allow myself to sleep because I was worried that if I did, I would miss the race. A few years later I had a very similar experience with a group of golfing buddies. Rooming with Steve McPherron was like rooming with Pres. Let’s just say I got very little sleep on that trip, but, I did play a lot of golf. The race was beginning and I had a little time before I needed to get the girls up so we could go cheer on their mother. We had to stop at McDonalds for breakfast, the second stop for me that morning. The same cashier welcomed us. No smile. It might have been because she had braces. We ate our pancakes and then we were off to the course. Again, no golf course could have been played in Vegas that morning. The drive was slow for the roads were wet and very slippery. I was happy I had a good set of Utah tires. Even the Vegas Strip was barren and even the gamblers had stayed into hibernate.
We stopped at mile marker 13, the half way mark and waited. We had to keep the car running so the car heater could keep us comfortable. The visibility was about 100 yards. About 40 minutes passed before the runners started to appear through the blowing snow. No one told us the race would start late. No one could. It was miserable and it was so colder than cold. The girls and I would jump out of the car with our home made signs each time we would see someone coming. We were sad each time it was not Shar (mom) but happy to get back in the car where it was warm. Almost an hour passed from when the first runner went by, to when Shar appeared. Her head was down focusing on only her next stride. She was clothed in her red sweats, heavy coat with her blue hat and black gloves. She hadn’t dared to take them off. As she got closer we yelled as loud as we could and I cheered like I never had before…I had never seen her run…I was so proud....she looked up with a quick smile…and then back to the grind…and as she disappeared back into the cold grey sky, I cried.
We stopped again at the 20 mile marker. The snow had let up some but the wind was still howling. She was one of the last runners to pass that point that day. I was hoping she wouldn’t be disappointed.
We waited at the finish line. Melisa and Rich had finished almost an hour earlier when Shar crossed the line with the biggest frozen smile you could ever imagine. She had finished. Her time 4:31:26. It was slower than she had wanted…but when I look back now…She was moving. Just over 10 minute miles in that weather…Amazing.
Shar ran 3 other marathons in St. George. The weather was always better and her times just went lower. She broke the 4 hour mark twice. 8:45 per mile. Wow! I was always there at the finish line in total awe of her, and a tear would always form in my eye from the emotion that would fill my soul watching her RUN and realizing what she had mastered. She had some of her happiest and joyful moments as she would cross that line and know she had accomplished her dream.
I run around the lake now. I started last year. I did it for the first time this year just last week. I still enjoy swimming in the lake more than running around it, but that will have to wait another few months…for now, I run, I really do it…and…I like it.
Last night, the same as the night before, I stepped on the treadmill that sits in our basement at 11552. I have stepped on it many times this past winter waiting for the sun to warm the earth and for spring to introduce itself to me once more. I run about 3 to 4 miles and then step off. I like it, even though it does not come close to running outside on the worn pavement. There are two things that are sad each time I step off that treadmill. The first is selfish. My per mile time is not even close to what Shar ran back when…I blame that on my age, even though I know better…and second; I realize that when Shar ran…I could not. Oh, how life likes to fool with us.
Last summer, Shar and I strolled around the lake, sometimes just together, sometimes with our Grandchildren in their Blue and read double stroller and sometimes with our children and friends.
I hope for the day when she can run again and that her wishes come true, so that one morning when she wakes and wants to go for a run, WE CAN.
Once in a blue moon, whatever that means, Shar would hop on the treadmill and give it a spin. She could run for miles when she was out in Gods beauty, but inside, she would only go a mile or two or three, sometimes just to warm up, or sometimes in the early evening, an hour or so after dinner, when her running partners were not available. It was always in winter, for night came quick and early and Shar was always about safety, not wanting to run alone when it was dark. I had told my sweetheart, on more than one occasion, that we should get rid of that treadmill, that it was only taking up space, and that I would never use it. I tried again when it was time to give the treadmill a new house. I hated to run. Well, I disliked it very much. I couldn’t run. On these occasions I was not her sweetheart.
Shar’s first Marathon was in Las Vegas. I thought she was nuts when she signed up. A trip to sunny and warm Las Vegas would be nice so I did support her, even though I thought she was crazy. I would take my golf clubs and hope to play at the Desert Inn. It is nice to know people, but that didn’t happen on this trip. We traveled down with two other families (dear friends) who had runners and with the original owners of the treadmill and two of their Grandchildren, Jami and Jessica (our two oldest daughters.) Oh, they were cute when they were young. They remind me that they still are.
We were all going down to support Shar and her running friends and hoped to have some fun. The sleeping arrangements were poor. Sleeping with my father in law is similar to trying to catch a few minutes of shuteye inside a hanger where they are testing jet engines 24-7. The only thing to do at midnight to five in the morning in Vegas is to sit at one of the million blackjack tables and try not to loose $20.00. Free orange juice throughout the night was a plus and it sure beat trying to use my imagination to come up with the best sound barrier that I could use to shut down the noise that was going on in room 166. I was not successful and vowed I would never make the mistake again of rooming with my in laws no matter how much I love them. It was 5:00 AM when the gambling money ran out, so I took a walk outside to check the weather. There was a McDonalds that had just opened and it was close to the hotel. I went for some pancakes and sausage, my favorite meal at McDonalds. They had it 30 years ago and you can buy it at your local McDonalds today plus inflation…before 10:30. I have always thought McDonalds could do even better business by serving breakfast all day long. I would visit more.
The walk, across the street and down a half of block, was miserable…it was cold…it was blowing…it was snowing…in VEGAS…I ate quickly and then retreated back to the hotel to make sure Shar was up. Shar, Melissa Wood, her first running mate and best friend (2nd cousin too – they found this out while running one morning when they were talking about a family reunion they both needed to attend) and Rich Pugh needed to get to the buses that would take them to the starting line; 26.2 miles away from the finish line. I was hoping the weather would give the runners a break and the wind would stop, or start to blow in the opposite direction. I knew that for the first 20 miles or so the runners would be running north, which on this morning was like running in the Alaskan Wilderness in a 30 mile an hour head wind. The wind chill was below 0…in Vegas.
They boarded the cold bus and were gone. Many of the runners didn’t even get on board. It was too cold. More of the runners never got off the buses when they reached the starting line…it was freezing.
I returned back to the hotel and laid down for an hour or so. Pres was up and out getting breakfast for he and Carol, and I was beat but it was silent. I couldn’t allow myself to sleep because I was worried that if I did, I would miss the race. A few years later I had a very similar experience with a group of golfing buddies. Rooming with Steve McPherron was like rooming with Pres. Let’s just say I got very little sleep on that trip, but, I did play a lot of golf. The race was beginning and I had a little time before I needed to get the girls up so we could go cheer on their mother. We had to stop at McDonalds for breakfast, the second stop for me that morning. The same cashier welcomed us. No smile. It might have been because she had braces. We ate our pancakes and then we were off to the course. Again, no golf course could have been played in Vegas that morning. The drive was slow for the roads were wet and very slippery. I was happy I had a good set of Utah tires. Even the Vegas Strip was barren and even the gamblers had stayed into hibernate.
We stopped at mile marker 13, the half way mark and waited. We had to keep the car running so the car heater could keep us comfortable. The visibility was about 100 yards. About 40 minutes passed before the runners started to appear through the blowing snow. No one told us the race would start late. No one could. It was miserable and it was so colder than cold. The girls and I would jump out of the car with our home made signs each time we would see someone coming. We were sad each time it was not Shar (mom) but happy to get back in the car where it was warm. Almost an hour passed from when the first runner went by, to when Shar appeared. Her head was down focusing on only her next stride. She was clothed in her red sweats, heavy coat with her blue hat and black gloves. She hadn’t dared to take them off. As she got closer we yelled as loud as we could and I cheered like I never had before…I had never seen her run…I was so proud....she looked up with a quick smile…and then back to the grind…and as she disappeared back into the cold grey sky, I cried.
We stopped again at the 20 mile marker. The snow had let up some but the wind was still howling. She was one of the last runners to pass that point that day. I was hoping she wouldn’t be disappointed.
We waited at the finish line. Melisa and Rich had finished almost an hour earlier when Shar crossed the line with the biggest frozen smile you could ever imagine. She had finished. Her time 4:31:26. It was slower than she had wanted…but when I look back now…She was moving. Just over 10 minute miles in that weather…Amazing.
Shar ran 3 other marathons in St. George. The weather was always better and her times just went lower. She broke the 4 hour mark twice. 8:45 per mile. Wow! I was always there at the finish line in total awe of her, and a tear would always form in my eye from the emotion that would fill my soul watching her RUN and realizing what she had mastered. She had some of her happiest and joyful moments as she would cross that line and know she had accomplished her dream.
I run around the lake now. I started last year. I did it for the first time this year just last week. I still enjoy swimming in the lake more than running around it, but that will have to wait another few months…for now, I run, I really do it…and…I like it.
Last night, the same as the night before, I stepped on the treadmill that sits in our basement at 11552. I have stepped on it many times this past winter waiting for the sun to warm the earth and for spring to introduce itself to me once more. I run about 3 to 4 miles and then step off. I like it, even though it does not come close to running outside on the worn pavement. There are two things that are sad each time I step off that treadmill. The first is selfish. My per mile time is not even close to what Shar ran back when…I blame that on my age, even though I know better…and second; I realize that when Shar ran…I could not. Oh, how life likes to fool with us.
Last summer, Shar and I strolled around the lake, sometimes just together, sometimes with our Grandchildren in their Blue and read double stroller and sometimes with our children and friends.
I hope for the day when she can run again and that her wishes come true, so that one morning when she wakes and wants to go for a run, WE CAN.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The Waiting Room...(From Ron again..)
The Waiting Room
We wait……We wait for almost everything. I am sure the list changes for everyone, but we wait. We wait to read……We wait for children, Ok, children wait for their parents too. We wait for the time to go to bed, for our favorite TV show, for dinner, breakfast and snacks in between. We even wait to wake up from a great sleep… how wrong is that. We wait at stop lights, in front of schools, in a grocery store line. We wait for the most important days and moments of our lives; a first step, the first word, the first love, first kiss, graduation getting married, for some getting divorced. We wait to go on vacation and then we wait until it is time to come home. We wait to go to school and then when we get there we can’t wait until school is over. The same goes with work and with church but let’s keep that one silent and please don’t wait to go to either. We now need to wait 4 more years for the next Winter Olympics. Yea…How old will you be then? You have to wait.
We wait at Hospitals. They actually have rooms. Waiting Rooms. What are you waiting for right now?
Every Waiting Room probably has or maybe just needs a Helen. Have you ever just hung out in a waiting room without waiting for news about a member of your family or a dear friend? Have you ever just done it for fun, or for the experience of it? You should. I have. The people you meet…. But that was a while ago. Maybe I will tell that story someday, but you will have to wait.
Helen should just hang out and tell her story For all that would listen, my sense is that it would make everyone’s visit to the hospital go so much faster and hopefully give others the feeling that MY LIFE IS GREAT EVEN THOUGH I WAIT.
I did as I was told by Shar’s nurse, and checked in with the lady at the desk in the WAITING ROOM! She was a small and very slender oriental woman. I could hardly understand a word she said. She asked what the patients name was three times. Read My Lips - S.H.A.R.O.N. N.E.L.S.O.N. She was a volunteer who had a phone and computer, but it was obvious she did not know how to use either. The other people in the room seemed to hold their breath each time the phone would ring or someone new would walk in and give her a patient’s name. I thought a hospital concierge would be much nicer. It would be nice to be led to all the fun spots of the hospital and know there was a spa waiting for those in waiting. Wouldn’t that be great? Everyone should be able to get a massage or sit in a hot tub or go sweat on an elliptical or treadmill or pump some iron. After a nice shower, someone would deliver the meal of your choice and we would sit in chairs that reclined with warm blankets with a nurse or trained foot tech who would pull up over our feet a pair of those warm green with white striped hospital socks, and don’t forget the deserts from Kneaders. Most people in the hospital can’t do these things…at least while they are cooped up…but for those who wait…why not.
Helen was waiting for her mother. I sat down in a double blue seater close to her with one chair separating the two of us. I had walked the halls nervously and made a few business calls that couldn’t wait until the next day. I was worrying about Shar and pictured her waiting to drift into sleep. I also took time to stuff my pockets with shortbread cookies from the treat basket next to the water cooler. They are the best treat ever, in a waiting room. After the last phone call I decided to settle in for the long haul. The chair was not the most comfortable but after I tested it out for a minute or two, it felt OK. I glanced over towards the lady with the white but graying hair and our eyes caught each others so without any thought of what was to come, I said “Hello”. Helen was 57 years old. She looked like she was 75, so when she told me her age, I hope the look on my face was not sending the same message that was being registered in my brain. I wanted to run to the nearest bathroom to take a good look in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look that old. Her mother was having some surgery due to her 3rd stroke in the past year. The surgery was to open up some blood vessels in a certain part of her brain that was “bloodless”…her word, not mine.
She was her mothers care giver and has been living in Utah for the past year or so... She had moved to Utah from Wyoming and doesn’t see a way back home until her Mother passes.
Talking to Helen was easy…she would have shared anything, in her slow, Wyoming drawl, that would increase or decrease in its decibel range depending on if someone was talking with the concierge (oriental lady). As we talked, she talking and taking up 95 percent of the conversation, her phone rang. The sound was the same ring tone as mine…I reached for my phone that was hiding now in the right pocket of my black vest, but it was her phone that needed to be answered. That was probably a sign from heaven that maybe I should change my ring tone, but I will wait to do that. The call was from a friend, Bernice or Bernie as she called her. “OH NO… Damm It” ….. “What am I going to do? … Is he going to be all right? The conversation lasted a few minutes…I wish I could have reached over and put her phone on speaker so I could hear the other side of the conversation. Helen became anxious, and from what I could gather from her words, was that somebody else she knew was on their way to a hospital, and that it couldn’t wait.
She hung up…her head fell to her hands for a minute or so…and our conversation…it slowly started up again, but it took a few minutes, for now I was somewhat speechless, not knowing what to say…and she visibly was a little emotional and in shock. She held her phone like she needed to call someone…but no… She started to shake a little…This was not expected from this rough, on the exterior, women from Wyoming who wore Wrangler Jeans, a yellow plaid long sleeve shirt with a brown vest. The material looked like oxford and there was a tear in the material just above her waist close to the bottom button. She did wear Nikes on her feet which I thought was cool.
Her son had just had A STOKE – Coincidence – You have to be kidding (I thought) and they were rushing him to a hospital in Sheraton. “What should I do”, she asked.
I went through what I thought was an appropriate response asking if she had any other relatives or friends that could come and take care of her mother… how long her mother would be in the hospital. Nothing I said seemed to click. She had no one. I asked about other children….Wow…wrong question?
One of her sons is down at the point of the mountain (Utah State Penitentiary). She sees him once a week. She loves him and his name is Michael. “He did some bad things, but he is turning his life around” - How much longer I asked “I think about 3 more years”.
Her son that had just had a stroke, Brent or Bryan, well it started with a B. Too much information in a short amount of time. Sometimes it takes me a year or more to get to know people’s names. You know, waiting to eventually get it right.
At my age, I am now waiting to forget the names of people I know. That has happened to you. Right?
I felt so sorry for Helen, but the story…it just kept going….one thing after another... Her 3rd son, whom she has not seen in over 5 years, and at the age of 27, was just indicted on 11 federal counts of forgery, money laundering and drug possession and dealing. “I have had it with him. He got started on that Meth and it ruined his life…He started ruining mine so I can’t deal with him right now”. I wondered if she was waiting for him to turn himself around-It obviously was going to take along, long time. A long, long wait. As we continued to talk, she kept saying that she needed Bernie to call her back, she was waiting for that call when the Doctor who had performed her mothers surgery, dressed in green hospital scrubs with a white and light blue hair cap, came in to give the news. He was young…I thought 25 – but he had to be much older…Helen needed some of what he had. “The surgery went fine. We were able to do everything we wanted…………………………..” She stood and walked over to the wall of windows, away from most the people gathered in the Waiting Room, with the surgeon.
“So she is going to LIVE” She seemed to shout this for everyone to hear. She sounded surprised and disappointed as the words slipped out. I wondered at that moment if her mothers dieing was her way to get back home to B___ in Sheraton, but now that short lived plan was up in smoke. What was she going to do? How long would she have to wait? She sat back down and started to gather her things. She had 3 bags. I am not sure what was in them except in one she had a diet Pepsi and in one she had her phone. I thought that one of the bags probably had her mother’s things in it…but, I will never know. It didn’t matter. She was a little pail from the news of the day…or maybe it was the news of her life, and from what I was witnessing and feeling, I thought she needed to be admitted to the hospital for a month or more…Just to get a break…But who would visit…I would have visited...But, maybe not…Life moves on.
“Is there anything I can do for you….”NO, but thank you” was her response…My body jumped a little as her phone rang again. I was hoping it was Bernie.
The person on the other end of the line was Donald or Donny, who was calling Mom about B__, but the conversation turned to his diabetes which was flaring up and he was unable to go to work for the last few weeks. As I was listening to every word – I got this great feeling of compassion for this woman whom I had just met. A mother, with 4 sons…one on his way to the hospital…one on his way to prison…one in prison…and another in his own prison.. At 400 plus pounds, all his mother could utter was “Please take care of yourself….You need to take care of yourself or You Will Die!”
The conversation soon ended…she packed up her things…I wanted to give her a big hug, but all I could do was wish her the best and she was gone.
I got up and changed scenery for a minute….Out in the hall across from the Waiting Room bathroom, I planted myself on a soft green chair…Just for a minute… for there was a person inside that bathroom that had to have had beans for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past week for the sounds that were coming through the door could be heard from 100 feet down the hall. I couldn’t stay seated. I was worried the smell would soon follow and I was laughing so hard, along with everyone else who was close by. It was like we were a bunch of 10 year olds…I couldn’t just sit there and wait to see who this poor, feeling lousy, person was…I was hoping it was a guy because the sounds were not lady like...Nobody could take that embarrassment when they had to walk out that door, so I had to remove myself and go wait somewhere else. I moved toward the bank of elevators and rode down a floor. I went to the cafeteria and had some beans for lunch…just kidding…a half a sandwich…Turkey and Swiss on Wheat…with a coke. My stomach was feeling the pain and I didn’t have to wait too long.
As I returned to the waiting room, I realized that over 4 hours had passed since I kissed Shar just before they took her away. Wow…Within about 20 minutes of really waiting by myself, Dr Caine showed up in his hospital green scrubs, without the hat. “I am sorry you have had to WAIT…..Everything went well……her lungs don’t look great…BOOP…It is going to be a few days before we have any further results…We talked for a few minutes. He laughed when I told him a little about Helen and the person in the bathroom. A Thoracic Surgeon…He was a very good friend with Shar’s brother Steve whom I had known when he was in high school. He was still the fun, smart and practical jokester except now it was appropriate to call him Doctor, even though he insisted on Bill.
I took two books and my knitting but I didn’t get to any of it in the Waiting room, well if two and a half pages of The Greatest Generation, counts, I did read something. For the most part, of my visit to the hospital, my mind was diverted away from Shar and what she was going through. Maybe it is the diversions that get us through. Otherwise we would all just wait until….What are our diversions on the route to the inevitable?
We have had to talk about it lately…for it is staring us in the face as it has before…even though this time it is much tougher for me, for we are talking about Shar this time, my wife, my sweetheart, my best friend. She knows me like a good book and has found forgiveness for me for the bad. The news has come almost as fast as the news I received from Helen. One thing on top of another, until I can hardly breathe.
We wait to die…we deny it…but we wait…we try to keep our lives busy with diversions so we really don’t think about it that often…we don’t like to talk about it…and it is much to early to think about it for my bride for eternity. But we wait still…wait for more tests…wait for results from Stanford and from the Mayo Clinic…we hope still and pray still. We look forward to today and tomorrow, but don’t venture too much beyond that except for our wait for the next Doctors visit or Curtis next Basketball game. She is a trooper of all troopers. She is waiting so courageously and valiantly as her life is becoming a whisper of days past. She is in bed a lot and does not move from our home, hardly at all. We wait for spring and warmer days. She waits…and we wait…not for the inevitable but for another minute, hour, day, month, year and who knows with other diversions that will be sure to come, we hope a lot longer. We wait for a visit or a phone call from family or a dear friend. We wait for more hope. We wait for increased faith. We wait for continuing miracles.
So knowing we all wait, I guess the question is how we do it? I guess the answer is different for us all… for life is a lot like a few hours with Helen; A bunch of diversions that for moments occupy our every living cell, and then are gone, only with memories, good and bad, hard and sad. I will always remember that day with JOY!
I just got a call from a friend…he asked me how Shar was and I started to answer…when…he put me on hold…so…I am waiting…
We wait……We wait for almost everything. I am sure the list changes for everyone, but we wait. We wait to read……We wait for children, Ok, children wait for their parents too. We wait for the time to go to bed, for our favorite TV show, for dinner, breakfast and snacks in between. We even wait to wake up from a great sleep… how wrong is that. We wait at stop lights, in front of schools, in a grocery store line. We wait for the most important days and moments of our lives; a first step, the first word, the first love, first kiss, graduation getting married, for some getting divorced. We wait to go on vacation and then we wait until it is time to come home. We wait to go to school and then when we get there we can’t wait until school is over. The same goes with work and with church but let’s keep that one silent and please don’t wait to go to either. We now need to wait 4 more years for the next Winter Olympics. Yea…How old will you be then? You have to wait.
We wait at Hospitals. They actually have rooms. Waiting Rooms. What are you waiting for right now?
Every Waiting Room probably has or maybe just needs a Helen. Have you ever just hung out in a waiting room without waiting for news about a member of your family or a dear friend? Have you ever just done it for fun, or for the experience of it? You should. I have. The people you meet…. But that was a while ago. Maybe I will tell that story someday, but you will have to wait.
Helen should just hang out and tell her story For all that would listen, my sense is that it would make everyone’s visit to the hospital go so much faster and hopefully give others the feeling that MY LIFE IS GREAT EVEN THOUGH I WAIT.
I did as I was told by Shar’s nurse, and checked in with the lady at the desk in the WAITING ROOM! She was a small and very slender oriental woman. I could hardly understand a word she said. She asked what the patients name was three times. Read My Lips - S.H.A.R.O.N. N.E.L.S.O.N. She was a volunteer who had a phone and computer, but it was obvious she did not know how to use either. The other people in the room seemed to hold their breath each time the phone would ring or someone new would walk in and give her a patient’s name. I thought a hospital concierge would be much nicer. It would be nice to be led to all the fun spots of the hospital and know there was a spa waiting for those in waiting. Wouldn’t that be great? Everyone should be able to get a massage or sit in a hot tub or go sweat on an elliptical or treadmill or pump some iron. After a nice shower, someone would deliver the meal of your choice and we would sit in chairs that reclined with warm blankets with a nurse or trained foot tech who would pull up over our feet a pair of those warm green with white striped hospital socks, and don’t forget the deserts from Kneaders. Most people in the hospital can’t do these things…at least while they are cooped up…but for those who wait…why not.
Helen was waiting for her mother. I sat down in a double blue seater close to her with one chair separating the two of us. I had walked the halls nervously and made a few business calls that couldn’t wait until the next day. I was worrying about Shar and pictured her waiting to drift into sleep. I also took time to stuff my pockets with shortbread cookies from the treat basket next to the water cooler. They are the best treat ever, in a waiting room. After the last phone call I decided to settle in for the long haul. The chair was not the most comfortable but after I tested it out for a minute or two, it felt OK. I glanced over towards the lady with the white but graying hair and our eyes caught each others so without any thought of what was to come, I said “Hello”. Helen was 57 years old. She looked like she was 75, so when she told me her age, I hope the look on my face was not sending the same message that was being registered in my brain. I wanted to run to the nearest bathroom to take a good look in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look that old. Her mother was having some surgery due to her 3rd stroke in the past year. The surgery was to open up some blood vessels in a certain part of her brain that was “bloodless”…her word, not mine.
She was her mothers care giver and has been living in Utah for the past year or so... She had moved to Utah from Wyoming and doesn’t see a way back home until her Mother passes.
Talking to Helen was easy…she would have shared anything, in her slow, Wyoming drawl, that would increase or decrease in its decibel range depending on if someone was talking with the concierge (oriental lady). As we talked, she talking and taking up 95 percent of the conversation, her phone rang. The sound was the same ring tone as mine…I reached for my phone that was hiding now in the right pocket of my black vest, but it was her phone that needed to be answered. That was probably a sign from heaven that maybe I should change my ring tone, but I will wait to do that. The call was from a friend, Bernice or Bernie as she called her. “OH NO… Damm It” ….. “What am I going to do? … Is he going to be all right? The conversation lasted a few minutes…I wish I could have reached over and put her phone on speaker so I could hear the other side of the conversation. Helen became anxious, and from what I could gather from her words, was that somebody else she knew was on their way to a hospital, and that it couldn’t wait.
She hung up…her head fell to her hands for a minute or so…and our conversation…it slowly started up again, but it took a few minutes, for now I was somewhat speechless, not knowing what to say…and she visibly was a little emotional and in shock. She held her phone like she needed to call someone…but no… She started to shake a little…This was not expected from this rough, on the exterior, women from Wyoming who wore Wrangler Jeans, a yellow plaid long sleeve shirt with a brown vest. The material looked like oxford and there was a tear in the material just above her waist close to the bottom button. She did wear Nikes on her feet which I thought was cool.
Her son had just had A STOKE – Coincidence – You have to be kidding (I thought) and they were rushing him to a hospital in Sheraton. “What should I do”, she asked.
I went through what I thought was an appropriate response asking if she had any other relatives or friends that could come and take care of her mother… how long her mother would be in the hospital. Nothing I said seemed to click. She had no one. I asked about other children….Wow…wrong question?
One of her sons is down at the point of the mountain (Utah State Penitentiary). She sees him once a week. She loves him and his name is Michael. “He did some bad things, but he is turning his life around” - How much longer I asked “I think about 3 more years”.
Her son that had just had a stroke, Brent or Bryan, well it started with a B. Too much information in a short amount of time. Sometimes it takes me a year or more to get to know people’s names. You know, waiting to eventually get it right.
At my age, I am now waiting to forget the names of people I know. That has happened to you. Right?
I felt so sorry for Helen, but the story…it just kept going….one thing after another... Her 3rd son, whom she has not seen in over 5 years, and at the age of 27, was just indicted on 11 federal counts of forgery, money laundering and drug possession and dealing. “I have had it with him. He got started on that Meth and it ruined his life…He started ruining mine so I can’t deal with him right now”. I wondered if she was waiting for him to turn himself around-It obviously was going to take along, long time. A long, long wait. As we continued to talk, she kept saying that she needed Bernie to call her back, she was waiting for that call when the Doctor who had performed her mothers surgery, dressed in green hospital scrubs with a white and light blue hair cap, came in to give the news. He was young…I thought 25 – but he had to be much older…Helen needed some of what he had. “The surgery went fine. We were able to do everything we wanted…………………………..” She stood and walked over to the wall of windows, away from most the people gathered in the Waiting Room, with the surgeon.
“So she is going to LIVE” She seemed to shout this for everyone to hear. She sounded surprised and disappointed as the words slipped out. I wondered at that moment if her mothers dieing was her way to get back home to B___ in Sheraton, but now that short lived plan was up in smoke. What was she going to do? How long would she have to wait? She sat back down and started to gather her things. She had 3 bags. I am not sure what was in them except in one she had a diet Pepsi and in one she had her phone. I thought that one of the bags probably had her mother’s things in it…but, I will never know. It didn’t matter. She was a little pail from the news of the day…or maybe it was the news of her life, and from what I was witnessing and feeling, I thought she needed to be admitted to the hospital for a month or more…Just to get a break…But who would visit…I would have visited...But, maybe not…Life moves on.
“Is there anything I can do for you….”NO, but thank you” was her response…My body jumped a little as her phone rang again. I was hoping it was Bernie.
The person on the other end of the line was Donald or Donny, who was calling Mom about B__, but the conversation turned to his diabetes which was flaring up and he was unable to go to work for the last few weeks. As I was listening to every word – I got this great feeling of compassion for this woman whom I had just met. A mother, with 4 sons…one on his way to the hospital…one on his way to prison…one in prison…and another in his own prison.. At 400 plus pounds, all his mother could utter was “Please take care of yourself….You need to take care of yourself or You Will Die!”
The conversation soon ended…she packed up her things…I wanted to give her a big hug, but all I could do was wish her the best and she was gone.
I got up and changed scenery for a minute….Out in the hall across from the Waiting Room bathroom, I planted myself on a soft green chair…Just for a minute… for there was a person inside that bathroom that had to have had beans for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past week for the sounds that were coming through the door could be heard from 100 feet down the hall. I couldn’t stay seated. I was worried the smell would soon follow and I was laughing so hard, along with everyone else who was close by. It was like we were a bunch of 10 year olds…I couldn’t just sit there and wait to see who this poor, feeling lousy, person was…I was hoping it was a guy because the sounds were not lady like...Nobody could take that embarrassment when they had to walk out that door, so I had to remove myself and go wait somewhere else. I moved toward the bank of elevators and rode down a floor. I went to the cafeteria and had some beans for lunch…just kidding…a half a sandwich…Turkey and Swiss on Wheat…with a coke. My stomach was feeling the pain and I didn’t have to wait too long.
As I returned to the waiting room, I realized that over 4 hours had passed since I kissed Shar just before they took her away. Wow…Within about 20 minutes of really waiting by myself, Dr Caine showed up in his hospital green scrubs, without the hat. “I am sorry you have had to WAIT…..Everything went well……her lungs don’t look great…BOOP…It is going to be a few days before we have any further results…We talked for a few minutes. He laughed when I told him a little about Helen and the person in the bathroom. A Thoracic Surgeon…He was a very good friend with Shar’s brother Steve whom I had known when he was in high school. He was still the fun, smart and practical jokester except now it was appropriate to call him Doctor, even though he insisted on Bill.
I took two books and my knitting but I didn’t get to any of it in the Waiting room, well if two and a half pages of The Greatest Generation, counts, I did read something. For the most part, of my visit to the hospital, my mind was diverted away from Shar and what she was going through. Maybe it is the diversions that get us through. Otherwise we would all just wait until….What are our diversions on the route to the inevitable?
We have had to talk about it lately…for it is staring us in the face as it has before…even though this time it is much tougher for me, for we are talking about Shar this time, my wife, my sweetheart, my best friend. She knows me like a good book and has found forgiveness for me for the bad. The news has come almost as fast as the news I received from Helen. One thing on top of another, until I can hardly breathe.
We wait to die…we deny it…but we wait…we try to keep our lives busy with diversions so we really don’t think about it that often…we don’t like to talk about it…and it is much to early to think about it for my bride for eternity. But we wait still…wait for more tests…wait for results from Stanford and from the Mayo Clinic…we hope still and pray still. We look forward to today and tomorrow, but don’t venture too much beyond that except for our wait for the next Doctors visit or Curtis next Basketball game. She is a trooper of all troopers. She is waiting so courageously and valiantly as her life is becoming a whisper of days past. She is in bed a lot and does not move from our home, hardly at all. We wait for spring and warmer days. She waits…and we wait…not for the inevitable but for another minute, hour, day, month, year and who knows with other diversions that will be sure to come, we hope a lot longer. We wait for a visit or a phone call from family or a dear friend. We wait for more hope. We wait for increased faith. We wait for continuing miracles.
So knowing we all wait, I guess the question is how we do it? I guess the answer is different for us all… for life is a lot like a few hours with Helen; A bunch of diversions that for moments occupy our every living cell, and then are gone, only with memories, good and bad, hard and sad. I will always remember that day with JOY!
I just got a call from a friend…he asked me how Shar was and I started to answer…when…he put me on hold…so…I am waiting…
Monday, February 22, 2010
Space Invaders..with love from Ron
Have you ever felt like “your space” was being invaded….It can happen in many ways….someone sitting at your place at the table….someone taking over responsibilities at work…finding something missing when you knew you had put that something – (wallet, keys, cash, etc.) away in that … it only belongs here place. How about someone else writing on your blog.
Last Week, a dear friend came and invaded my space. She is really Shar’s friend, but since I know all about her and because of her love for our family she is like family…a dear, dear friend. Well, I got home the other day and our home was spotless. No more signs of Christmas. The house smelled new and clean and perfect…the floor shined like new, the countertops had nothing on them collecting dust…I could even find the jam in the refrigerator without having to take things out and then finding out it had been left with the Peanut Butter on the laundry room countertop. Yea, that happened a few weeks ago…I’m pretty sure it was me, but I don’t remember….
I could go room by room and tell you how grateful I was that someone had invaded my space…but my closet….who knew the things that were hiding…Not only had my closet been transfigured from a hell looking existence…but nothing was where I had left it. Everything was hung up….everything except my shoes. But it was different…all different. My things were hung on Shars side of the closet, on her rods….There were no clothes piled up on the floor…zero….The closet even smelled better….I never noticed it smelled bad…but now it smelled good….I remembered how my daughter Jessica could argue when she was smaller that she always new where things were, even if you couldn’t see the carpet on her floor. Well, the closet wasn’t that bad, and I couldn’t say where everything was…but…now…it is like one of those closets you see in the movies. Everything was in its place…different place…but as I stood trying to take it all in..and trying to find the irritation in my soul…I couldn’t…All I could do was cry and feel grateful. (Yea, don’t spend a lot of time trying to picture the tears)
Thank You for invading our space.
How grateful I am. I left one day for work…arrived home and accomplished in that day what Shar has been asking me to do for years.
This is only one of the million blessings that have come our way in the mix of trying to find our lives intertwined with Shar’s illness as the people we love have started the invasion of our space.
How is she? ………………..Not very good physically. Shar had surgery last week. The Doctors wanted to do it because her lungs are failing. She has lost 32 to 47 percent (depending on the test) of her lung capacity, function, diffusion and volume. She is on Oxygen 95% of the time…the other 5% she is OXD – OXygen
Deprived because the devise is driving her nuts…two months ago she said she would never go on oxygen and now here we are…I have tripped over the plastic tubing that follows her where ever she goes and almost killed myself after one of those adventures. Happy to say I survived. My mother went through the OXD and thank goodness we laughed when we could. We all tripped over her lines and yes.,…she almost killed herself by tripping over it. I once arrived at 1866 finding her on the floor with no ability to get up by herself. It was serious at the time, but we found laughter. If I get home one day and Shar is on the floor…I have already let her know that I will leave her there. I hope she has her phone at the time so she can text.
BOOP – Bronchiolitis Obliterans with Organizing Pneumonia – is the diagnosis, or the diagnosis based upon the first diagnosis, or should we just say a secondary condition which has brought worse news than the initial or primary diagnosis. It is not a Pneumonia treated with antibiotics – the real term should be Pneumonitis or just Inflammation of the obliterates or the small airways in the lungs. For some unknown reason, other than the original disease diagnoses of Mixed Connective Tissue Disease, Shars lungs have begun to crystallize which is making life different….disease has started to invade her space, the space she needs to breathe
Our space (our home) is being invaded. Dear, dear friends keep showing up…I think we haven’t known a few people that have come that voice that we are their bestest of friends…but who cares when they bring a gallon of burnt almond fudge Ice cream.
I came home the other day and was concerned that my wife had a heart attack. I had no clue that a heart attack could bring so much joy…..Hearts with notes taped all over our bedroom and bathroom. Even Connie did not have the heart to bring them down…for in every heart ….we find light…
Life is hard…but the harder it seems to get…the more JOY we seem to feel. Interesting!
I will leave the diagnosis of that statement for each of you to figure out….Good Luck!
We would love for life to return to normal, with Shar getting well and with Shar telling me to get my clothes off the closet floor. We hope and pray for that day, but for now it doesn’t matter. It hasn’t mattered for months now. I have always been amazed at what people go through to get through. For years I met hundreds of people trying to get through and from time to time I would get some understanding of their situation to realize that miracles happen in all of our lives, even in the darkest of moments.
For every miracle there is still sadness and worry….Mortality is just that….Mortal. The things we do and think and worry about….Some, I guess, really do matter.
Last Week, a dear friend came and invaded my space. She is really Shar’s friend, but since I know all about her and because of her love for our family she is like family…a dear, dear friend. Well, I got home the other day and our home was spotless. No more signs of Christmas. The house smelled new and clean and perfect…the floor shined like new, the countertops had nothing on them collecting dust…I could even find the jam in the refrigerator without having to take things out and then finding out it had been left with the Peanut Butter on the laundry room countertop. Yea, that happened a few weeks ago…I’m pretty sure it was me, but I don’t remember….
I could go room by room and tell you how grateful I was that someone had invaded my space…but my closet….who knew the things that were hiding…Not only had my closet been transfigured from a hell looking existence…but nothing was where I had left it. Everything was hung up….everything except my shoes. But it was different…all different. My things were hung on Shars side of the closet, on her rods….There were no clothes piled up on the floor…zero….The closet even smelled better….I never noticed it smelled bad…but now it smelled good….I remembered how my daughter Jessica could argue when she was smaller that she always new where things were, even if you couldn’t see the carpet on her floor. Well, the closet wasn’t that bad, and I couldn’t say where everything was…but…now…it is like one of those closets you see in the movies. Everything was in its place…different place…but as I stood trying to take it all in..and trying to find the irritation in my soul…I couldn’t…All I could do was cry and feel grateful. (Yea, don’t spend a lot of time trying to picture the tears)
Thank You for invading our space.
How grateful I am. I left one day for work…arrived home and accomplished in that day what Shar has been asking me to do for years.
This is only one of the million blessings that have come our way in the mix of trying to find our lives intertwined with Shar’s illness as the people we love have started the invasion of our space.
How is she? ………………..Not very good physically. Shar had surgery last week. The Doctors wanted to do it because her lungs are failing. She has lost 32 to 47 percent (depending on the test) of her lung capacity, function, diffusion and volume. She is on Oxygen 95% of the time…the other 5% she is OXD – OXygen
Deprived because the devise is driving her nuts…two months ago she said she would never go on oxygen and now here we are…I have tripped over the plastic tubing that follows her where ever she goes and almost killed myself after one of those adventures. Happy to say I survived. My mother went through the OXD and thank goodness we laughed when we could. We all tripped over her lines and yes.,…she almost killed herself by tripping over it. I once arrived at 1866 finding her on the floor with no ability to get up by herself. It was serious at the time, but we found laughter. If I get home one day and Shar is on the floor…I have already let her know that I will leave her there. I hope she has her phone at the time so she can text.
BOOP – Bronchiolitis Obliterans with Organizing Pneumonia – is the diagnosis, or the diagnosis based upon the first diagnosis, or should we just say a secondary condition which has brought worse news than the initial or primary diagnosis. It is not a Pneumonia treated with antibiotics – the real term should be Pneumonitis or just Inflammation of the obliterates or the small airways in the lungs. For some unknown reason, other than the original disease diagnoses of Mixed Connective Tissue Disease, Shars lungs have begun to crystallize which is making life different….disease has started to invade her space, the space she needs to breathe
Our space (our home) is being invaded. Dear, dear friends keep showing up…I think we haven’t known a few people that have come that voice that we are their bestest of friends…but who cares when they bring a gallon of burnt almond fudge Ice cream.
I came home the other day and was concerned that my wife had a heart attack. I had no clue that a heart attack could bring so much joy…..Hearts with notes taped all over our bedroom and bathroom. Even Connie did not have the heart to bring them down…for in every heart ….we find light…
Life is hard…but the harder it seems to get…the more JOY we seem to feel. Interesting!
I will leave the diagnosis of that statement for each of you to figure out….Good Luck!
We would love for life to return to normal, with Shar getting well and with Shar telling me to get my clothes off the closet floor. We hope and pray for that day, but for now it doesn’t matter. It hasn’t mattered for months now. I have always been amazed at what people go through to get through. For years I met hundreds of people trying to get through and from time to time I would get some understanding of their situation to realize that miracles happen in all of our lives, even in the darkest of moments.
For every miracle there is still sadness and worry….Mortality is just that….Mortal. The things we do and think and worry about….Some, I guess, really do matter.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
What's in a name
I never liked reading as a kid. In fact I didn't like much of anything that had to do with sitting still. Except for playing the piano. Somehow I could do that for hours and hours. I would have been in big trouble had it not been for cliff notes. I was the kid who organized neighborhood softball games in the field, or sneak onto the nun's tennis courts in our backyard. I loved my 10 speed bike.....anything that had to do with being outside.
Many years ago, I discovered the great adventure books take you on. And now I love to read. Mostly historical. Yep, I love history. I love learning new words. I love learning.
With that being said, there are some words I just plain hate. Like hate. It is sharp and mean. Whimsical. What a great word. It is just as it sounds. And then obese. What a crappy word. it never even makes it out of your mouth. It just sits there until it's swallowed and left to rot with last nights prime rib dinner. Yuck! Another part of a word that does not mean good things is a doctor who ends in "ogist." It became very clear the first time I saw my rheumatologist. An older gentleman was asking how I was that day as we were sitting in the waiting room. The nurse called my name just as I was answering. When I got up and headed to the rheu's door, the man said, you can't be that great if you are going through that door.
Don't get me wrong. I am so grateful for ogists, but think about it. Ogists are specialized. Usually because something is not right. Except of course, anesthesiologists. I love them. They take pain away no matter the cause. And because my son in law is going to be one.
So, do words become their meaning, or does the meaning become the word? Hum...SO deep I know.
The same is true with people. You hear a name and there is a definition. Take Gordon B Hinckley. Master communicator, gentle giant. love for all mankind. Hitler. (What, right after Gordon B Hinckley) Evil, dark, wicked. Sick. (I've been reading WWII books and am loving them) George Bush....different for many. Here's a hot one...Sarah Palin. (I need to throw her in) Oprah and Ellen. Good souls. Sami, on Days. Whatever. Abe Lincoln. One of my hero's. etc etc. You get the idea. My friend Connie. Angel. Salt of the earth. unassuming. Loving. Service. And of course, runner.
So what is Shar Nelson going to be a definition for? Right now, probably sick. I don't want to be known as sick. But it's ok. I do the same thing. Hopefully music. I love music. Nature. Nature is spiritual to me. Of course family and friends and all those warm and fuzzy things. Really. Testimony of the Savior and His atonement. Even prankster. I love playing pranks and was pretty darn great at them. Man I came up with some good ones, or was involved with them. But I was usually too chicken to carry them out so I had my fall guys do that!
Heavy thought for the day. Making our names synonymous with what we hope they will mean. That is my goal.
Many years ago, I discovered the great adventure books take you on. And now I love to read. Mostly historical. Yep, I love history. I love learning new words. I love learning.
With that being said, there are some words I just plain hate. Like hate. It is sharp and mean. Whimsical. What a great word. It is just as it sounds. And then obese. What a crappy word. it never even makes it out of your mouth. It just sits there until it's swallowed and left to rot with last nights prime rib dinner. Yuck! Another part of a word that does not mean good things is a doctor who ends in "ogist." It became very clear the first time I saw my rheumatologist. An older gentleman was asking how I was that day as we were sitting in the waiting room. The nurse called my name just as I was answering. When I got up and headed to the rheu's door, the man said, you can't be that great if you are going through that door.
Don't get me wrong. I am so grateful for ogists, but think about it. Ogists are specialized. Usually because something is not right. Except of course, anesthesiologists. I love them. They take pain away no matter the cause. And because my son in law is going to be one.
So, do words become their meaning, or does the meaning become the word? Hum...SO deep I know.
The same is true with people. You hear a name and there is a definition. Take Gordon B Hinckley. Master communicator, gentle giant. love for all mankind. Hitler. (What, right after Gordon B Hinckley) Evil, dark, wicked. Sick. (I've been reading WWII books and am loving them) George Bush....different for many. Here's a hot one...Sarah Palin. (I need to throw her in) Oprah and Ellen. Good souls. Sami, on Days. Whatever. Abe Lincoln. One of my hero's. etc etc. You get the idea. My friend Connie. Angel. Salt of the earth. unassuming. Loving. Service. And of course, runner.
So what is Shar Nelson going to be a definition for? Right now, probably sick. I don't want to be known as sick. But it's ok. I do the same thing. Hopefully music. I love music. Nature. Nature is spiritual to me. Of course family and friends and all those warm and fuzzy things. Really. Testimony of the Savior and His atonement. Even prankster. I love playing pranks and was pretty darn great at them. Man I came up with some good ones, or was involved with them. But I was usually too chicken to carry them out so I had my fall guys do that!
Heavy thought for the day. Making our names synonymous with what we hope they will mean. That is my goal.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Grateful for oxygen
It was a beautiful day yesterday. I got to spend it at the docs office. I'm having surgery on Thurs, an open lung biopsy. I don't have to be filleted. Good. I have never liked fillets. Prime rib for me. I do have to stay in the hosp. until Sun or Mon. Not all bad. Do I hear morphine? JK! or not.
There were lots of runners out. Usually I would be jealous, or lately, smile. Neither today. I wanted to stop each one and tell them to be grateful. Don't take those miraculous lungs and heart for granted that pump life's energy throughout, that allows them to do what they love. But they will. I did. That's what we humans do. Until it's taken away. And that's OK. Just like my eyes way back when. Who is thankful for eyes that see perfectly? Not me, until I couldn't anymore. Or the very oxygen we breathe. Never did I thank the Lord for oxygen. But now I do. I don't have enough. And for doctors who figured it all out.
I'm sad right now. And that's OK. It won't last. I count my many blessings several times a day. Doing that can't keep me down for long. I have too much to be grateful for. Relationships, kindnesses, incredible outpouring of love and service. SOOO grateful that I still have it when I play the piano. Well, maybe not like in the past, but I'm just sayin!
And who says I can't go "running" in a sweet Jazzie! Yeah, not me either. Not yet. My oxy tanks and I are really getting along well. We might go slow, but I can see us out walking soon.
There were lots of runners out. Usually I would be jealous, or lately, smile. Neither today. I wanted to stop each one and tell them to be grateful. Don't take those miraculous lungs and heart for granted that pump life's energy throughout, that allows them to do what they love. But they will. I did. That's what we humans do. Until it's taken away. And that's OK. Just like my eyes way back when. Who is thankful for eyes that see perfectly? Not me, until I couldn't anymore. Or the very oxygen we breathe. Never did I thank the Lord for oxygen. But now I do. I don't have enough. And for doctors who figured it all out.
I'm sad right now. And that's OK. It won't last. I count my many blessings several times a day. Doing that can't keep me down for long. I have too much to be grateful for. Relationships, kindnesses, incredible outpouring of love and service. SOOO grateful that I still have it when I play the piano. Well, maybe not like in the past, but I'm just sayin!
And who says I can't go "running" in a sweet Jazzie! Yeah, not me either. Not yet. My oxy tanks and I are really getting along well. We might go slow, but I can see us out walking soon.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Phew!!! I made it..
Nice! january is OVER! But I must admit, I had a new take on the whole miserable month due to the last comment I got. You are right Jennie Jo, Dec. would be a hard act to follow. And Jeff Judkins. What a pretty great guy. I'm sure I had a crush on him as well. As well as whom? Anyone pretty much. But he had such a cute smile. And it's OK. Cause he did marry Ron's old girlfriend.
As pretty much everyone knows by now, we got some pretty discouraging news about my health, or lack of it as the case may be. My family held a fast that people were involved in all over the US. and even outside the US. It was overwhelming and humbling. I have been carried by such a outpouring of love and support. Many friends and neighbors met at our home to open the fast with prayer. I walked in the room as everyone had arrived. I had neighbors that were not members of my faith. I had friends of friends that I don't know very well, and I had all my children. Not the soap opera mind you. My mother and father were there as well. Tears started streaming. What a lucky person I am.
But most of all, I need to pay tribute to the sweetest man who is my husband. Words could and will never express the love he has shown me. There are many many times during our adventures together, when he has deserved better. We have been through many tough things, like all I suppose, and I am forever grateful to his stubbornness to stick with me through thick and thin. And I'm not speaking weight of course! After 32+ years of marriage, I am more grateful now than ever. The fabric of our tapestry is so full of richness with threads of all colors and hues. It wouldn't be nearly as beautiful without all those different shades.
I love you and thank you my sweetheart.
As pretty much everyone knows by now, we got some pretty discouraging news about my health, or lack of it as the case may be. My family held a fast that people were involved in all over the US. and even outside the US. It was overwhelming and humbling. I have been carried by such a outpouring of love and support. Many friends and neighbors met at our home to open the fast with prayer. I walked in the room as everyone had arrived. I had neighbors that were not members of my faith. I had friends of friends that I don't know very well, and I had all my children. Not the soap opera mind you. My mother and father were there as well. Tears started streaming. What a lucky person I am.
But most of all, I need to pay tribute to the sweetest man who is my husband. Words could and will never express the love he has shown me. There are many many times during our adventures together, when he has deserved better. We have been through many tough things, like all I suppose, and I am forever grateful to his stubbornness to stick with me through thick and thin. And I'm not speaking weight of course! After 32+ years of marriage, I am more grateful now than ever. The fabric of our tapestry is so full of richness with threads of all colors and hues. It wouldn't be nearly as beautiful without all those different shades.
I love you and thank you my sweetheart.
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