Daddy’s Girl

Me at age two

As a child I heard Mom say, a time or two, I had Dad wrapped around my little finger. I was the only child out of their five that he witnessed the birth because way back then fathers were not allowed in the delivery rooms at the hospital. I suspect I didn’t want him left out, so my delivery was at home.

It all started after my grandparents came to take my sister, Rosanne, home with them for an overnight stay. They did this often, taking turns with each grandchild. After they left, Mom started having strong contractions so Dad called the doctor and told him they were on their way to the hospital. Because of the pain, Mom struggled to walk to the back door towards the garage. Dad rushed ahead to drive the car out of the unattached garage closer to the back door. When he got back in the house to help her to the car he realized her water broke and the impatient and determined baby was already on its way. He ran to the phone to call the doctor again and heard the television. Realizing there was only a stairway between where they were upstairs in the kitchen and where my two brothers were downstairs in the T.V. room added concern to this already stressful situation. Dad hollered down the stairs, “No matter what, you boys do not come up these stairs!”

Rosanne, Mick, Me & Dad

Mickey, age seven and a half and Donny nearly four, paid little attention to the hustle and bustle at the top of the stairs. Fortunately, they were more interested in the show than the arrival of a new baby, so it was easy to obey their father’s order.

By the time the doctor got to our home I had already arrived. What an entrance for a nine pound baby! I wish I could remember it… What I do remember is being referred to as their “kitchen baby”. Depending on the day, or the mood, I was amused at the thought of coming into the world in this unusual way, or completely embarrassed.

I’ve been told Dad often teased Mom during their four pregnancies that he had delivered lots of calves on the farm, so there was no need for a doctor. I guess I was listening.

Don, Me & Dad

I’ve always had faith in Dad’s abilities. He can usually fix anything I break and is willing to help me build whatever my mind dreams of.  I enjoy discussing ideas with him because he doesn’t tell me I can’t accomplish it, but rather points out the difficulties and then helps me find solutions to make it work out. He’s taught me to work hard for what I wanted and not to be afraid of failure. If the intended outcome didn’t occur on the first, second or third attempt, you just keep on trying and learn from your mistakes. His wisdom, experience, encouragement and optimistic attitude greatly benefit’s my life.

1980, Dad & I

1980, Dad & Mark

Dad showed me how to have fun by providing many outdoor adventures. Horseback riding, waterskiing, snowmobiling, four-wheeling are just a few of my favorite things to do with him. He instilled in me a love for the outdoors.

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In addition to being adventurous and hard-working, he is generous with his time and shares everything he has. He cares about people, especially family. He loves my children and husband just as deeply as I feel he loves me.

Dad’s endured much heartbreak, but you’d never know it by his cheery nature. His mother died just a couple of weeks before his twelfth birthday and his father’s death was ten years later. Years passed and a sister was sadly murdered and he was the one who had to identify her body. He’s borne family and business disappointments without bitter feelings. He’s dealt with many health issues with no complaints. His life demonstrates how to accept the things you can’t change with calmness, while having courage to change the things he can. Without calling attention to his hardships, I recognize them and have learned a lot from the way he quietly handles his trials.

Many years have passed since my rare entrance into this world and I’m grateful for the bond it made between us. I appreciate the model he’s given me to pattern my own life and thankful for the love and support he gives me. Dad, I love you!

2008, Mark & Dad on his 80th birthday party

Happy Father’s Day to two of my favorite men!

 

Carry On

July is full of outdoor activities and celebrations that last all month long in Utah. It’s my favorite time of year with family reunions, outdoor plays, concerts, parades and many festivities to look forward to. The sun rises early, which makes it easier for me to do also. The weather is usually sunny and the daylight lasts until 9 pm, making this month the one to accomplish the most outside. I always have great aspirations for this month.

This year we started the month out by driving to Vancouver, Washington with our daughter, Katie. We enjoyed visiting with Mom Wilson, Karen and Mark Ray. Lucky for us our son, Christopher, lives just across the Columbia River in Portland, Oregon making our visit quadrupled the fun. We enjoyed an Independence Day celebration at the park with energetic music, food trailers, beautiful fireworks and the great company of family. It’s always hard to say good-bye to loved ones especially without knowing when we’ll see them again. We made the long trek home in about fourteen hours, which includes our fuel and rest stops.

My asthma flared up during our trip and I struggled more than usual to get it under control. When we returned home I went to the doctor for what I thought would be just a medication change. I left Mark home alone, expecting it to be a short doctor’s visit since I was her second appointment of the day. My oxygen level was low so they gave me a breathing treatment and oxygen, which confined me to the room until my oxygen level reached normal.

Two hours later, I left the room anxious to get back to work and to Mark. Remodeling construction had started near the large entrance/exit sliding glass door of the building. With no cone or sign before it, I didn’t see the piece of metal track that had been attached to the tile floor during my doctor’s appointment. I tripped and fell on it, landing hard on the tile, dislocating my right shoulder.

Dislocated Shoulder 07/08/16

My body wrenched in pain like I’d never felt before. I tried to get up, but couldn’t. A man came to my aide and before I knew it, I was sitting in a wheelchair and whisked to the Urgent Care Clinic in the building.

I heard someone report I was in and out of consciousness and my vitals dropped. “Call an ambulance; she needs to go to the hospital.”

“Please put my shoulder back in place,” I pleaded. “I need to get back home to my husband.”

The look on the doctor’s face helped me realized how silly the statement sounded, so I explained. “My husband has a traumatic brain injury and is confined to a wheelchair. He depends on me to get him in and out of the chair.”

“I don’t believe you’re going to be able to lift him for six to eight weeks,” he said while placing an IV for fluids and another one for morphine.

The first stranger who rushed to my aide looked at me drenched in perspiration from the pain and in sympathy said, “I’m sorry. Don’t worry about the medical cost. We’ll take care of you.” I assume he was the job foreman.

Submissive to all the medical team requests, I moved every which way they asked as they transferred me to the stretcher and rushed me to the hospital. For the next three hours the only thing on my mind was getting my shoulder back in place. My right arm went from feeling like it weighed 100 pounds, to numbness, to sharp, shooting pains running down it. I was sure my arm was dying and at times I thought death would be my only relief. No matter how many times I begged them to fix my shoulder there were tests that needed to be done to make sure I didn’t need surgery or an x-ray that had to be taken to show the best way to maneuver it back in place. Finally I was given a conscious sedation and like Humpty Dumpty who fell off the wall, I was put back together again. Instant relief followed, but then came the body shakes, which I will take anytime over the pain of a totally dislocated joint.

Healing shoulder, 07/19/16. The bump on my clavicle is from the break 25 years ago. I’m glad it didn’t break again!

I’m an aging caregiver who is dedicated to the love of my life. My worst fear is not being physically capable of caring for him. I’ve always known it’s a possibility, but I don’t know how to prepare for it. I know the options and none of them feel right. Even the option of relying on family and friends for help ties my stomach up in knots.

This year the sunny month of July has been the darkest I have felt in a long time. Depressing thoughts linger because my body can’t do what it wants to do. With my arm splinted in a sling and strapped to my side to allow torn tendons and ligaments to heal, my mind keeps focusing on the negative aspects of my life. Having to depend on others to help with Mark’s care for several weeks makes it hard for my heart to find hope in a brighter future. How do I dig out of this gloomy place and feel the sunshine in my life again?

Annually on July 24^th, our state honors the Mormon pioneers who arrived in the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. I imagine after pulling handcarts or driving wagons with oxen or horses across the plains more than a thousand miles, the pioneers were happy to settle the desert landscape now known as Utah. Last week our celebration reminded me their trek exemplifies courage and faith. Their stories inspire me. They endured harsh weather, death of loved ones and starvation as their food and water supplies diminished.  Nothing had prepared the majority of these travelers for the exhaustion, illnesses and injuries they would suffer. They were beginners in a new territory, learning a new way of life.

I see similarities between my caregiving trek and my pioneer ancestors who walked approximately 1,248 miles from Nauvoo, Illinois. Although we thankfully have the comfort of a home with plenty of food and water, nothing had prepared me for the anxiety and exhaustion of caring for another, or the illnesses and injuries which keep arising. As we make it through one challenge only to receive another, I continue to be a beginner in a new territory, learning a new way of life that most people can’t fully understand. I am a modern-day pioneer and so are you as we struggle through our own personal trek. This connection gives me courage and faith to carry on.

The pioneers didn’t know how or when their journey would end. Similarly, I don’t know how or when ours will end. Like my ancestors’ examples, I’m committing to carry on with faith in every footstep for a brighter future. Even if we don’t reach our desired destination in this life, I believe we’ll be blessed beyond the grave, free from the harsh physical ailments which we have endured. With confidence, I picture this celebration far grander than I’ve ever witnessed and possibly can even imagine.

Just as I started the month of July with great aspirations, I end it with the same for the future and will carry on as best I can.

 

How to Bring Comfort and Support

Last Sunday Christine Scott wrote part 1 of a series about her sister, Laura’s Story. She stated, “… what happens when those long awaited milestones don’t happen, when friends and loved ones question your child’s progress, and maybe suggest something is not quite right? When illness and hospital stays become commonplace, how do these parents cope?”

Connecting with someone who is dealing with tragedy or heartache can be uncomfortable, especially if our friend or family is facing something we’ve never experienced. Walls may be raised as a coping mechanism on each side. How do we gently and gracefully break through those walls?

Christine also wrote, “Well-meaning family and friends commented on Laura’s lack of progress, but my mom refused to believe them. Her response: ‘She isn’t that delayed for an eighteen-month-old. She’s just a late bloomer.’ Laura was beautiful. Laura was perfect. She was everything my mom dreamed her to be, so she didn’t listen. Even the family doctor supported my mom’s theory about my sister being a late bloomer. Looking back, my mom admitted she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to face the hard, cold reality that something was seriously wrong with her baby.”

This heartfelt article made we wonder how we bring comfort and support to family and friends during heartache and trials. How do we know if we are hurting or helping another? Will our advice or opinion give direction or will they resent it? Advice at the wrong time or our choice of words can be damaging to a relationship. With these questions I searched the internet and found, How to Comfort Hurting People and I made a list of suggestions taken from http://www.net-burst.net/help/counsel.htm.

• Think the best of people. See them in the best possible light. People under pressure can explode at the slightest additional pressure. If you happen to add that tiny extra pressure, don’t take the explosion personally. Do not feel badly about the person or about yourself for what happened.Hold your friend in high regard and know that it is the pain talking, not the real person.
• Listen intently. Eye contact can reinforce the person’s awareness that you are interested in what they are saying. Be relaxed during times of silence. Perhaps give a reassuring smile or squeeze the person’s hand. Don’t feel pressured to fill the silence with chatter. Have confidence in the comforting power of simply being there. Feel their pain, be thrilled with their triumphs and enjoy their jokes.
• Regard tears as being as natural as breathing.Give a reassuring squeeze of the hand or by some other means show that you are relaxed about any emotion that is displayed. Assure the person tears are fitting and nothing to be ashamed of.
• Gently probe.Asking an occasional question shows genuine interest. By asking appropriate questions you confirm that you really want to know and that they are not imposing on you. Of course, there are people on the other extreme who feel offended if asked, so we need to try to raise these matters with gentleness and sensitivity and in a manner in which the person can easily decline to answer without embarrassment.
• Look for a positive twist to the situation. If every cloud has a silver lining, hunt high and low for it. With great sensitivity, ease the person’s attention in that direction. However,don’t do this in a way that could seem like a put-down, such as giving the impression that they should have seen the silver themselves, or imply they should find the positive side comforting. Leave it to them to decide if it’s the slightest compensation for the pain they are experiencing.
• Every person is different. What worked wonders for others, could end in disaster despite your best intentions for another. The fact that some people recover or accept a situation far quicker than others can tempt us to give up on the slower ones. Human nature is complex and every person feels and reacts differently.
• Keep looking for feedback and signs as to adjustments needed in your approach.Not only is every person different, people’s needs change during the course of their ordeal. For instance, when tragedies first hit, a person is often overwhelmed with visitors and attention, but this tapers off until the person is left having to cope with the opposite extreme. Also, be mindful to not over-stay. Make it obvious that you are happy to stay, but ask now and then if they would prefer to be alone for a while or if they would you like to rest now.
• Don’t be a know-all. Avoid anything that could possibly give the impression of putting yourself above the person. When appropriate, briefly confess you own struggles.
• Consider practical help, such as shopping, housework, cooking.This may be a valuable way to help.
• Allow yourself time out to recharge.It is both loving and wise to ensure you have guilt-free fun times. This will do much to keep you primed for doing your utmost in supporting the person. Be mindful, the person might not be in the mood for hearing you describe your fun.

All of us at one time or another will experience grief and devastation. What helps you get through your heartaches? How hard was it to let others in and to accept help? Your comments are appreciated.

Life’s Lessons

In writing The Value of Testing article, I gained a new perspective of the purpose and benefits of trials. Every day Mark was continually being evaluated physically, mentally and emotionally. The assessments pointed out what abilities he retained and what he needed to relearn. The information directed the doctor and therapists in helping him through the rehabilitation process. The necessary painful and difficult analysis of his capabilities often left both of us feeling discouraged and overwhelmed for what he’d lost.

During this hard time I was going through a personal examination of commitment, faith, endurance and strength. As I reflected on Mark’s and my own trials, it became clear to me that life is continually testing us. Sometimes we feel alone in our trials and wonder why we’re not getting the help we need or the answer from God. However, in the silence and loneliness, we often learn the most. As I remember, a teacher is always quiet during the test. Life is constantly teaching us something if we just pay attention. Through self-evaluation we can learn what areas we excel in and where we need to improve. A few other tips I found on life’s lessons are shown in these images.

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       Illness teaches me to appreciate good health and prompts me to take better care of myself and those around me.

Suffering teaches me the importance of service and giving relief to others.

Death teaches me to be grateful for life and the love shared with others.

Grief teaches me empathy for others and helps me connect with them on a deeper level.

What lessons have you learned from life?