A Major Bump in the Road of Life

I told you all earlier in the month that my singer partner/sister/cousin's husband, Randy, had ALL....it has been tough on them since the beginning of this saga in their lives....but Friday began a whirlwind nightmare for them.  I wanted to share a bit from Randy's Caring Bridge site what they have been going through.  Understand as you read that Amanda is a nurse...and a good one.  But even the strong can only withstand so much....that is why I am so glad we have a great and powerful God to lean on.  From yesterday's journal (after they had been at the hospital since 11:00) she wrote, "Today's been a tough one and I'm glad it will soon be over. We were taken up to our room a little after 10 pm, so I missed my estimate by over an hour. Ramona and Dustin got here about 9 pm on their way up from Florida, kept us company while we were waiting to leave the ER and stayed with us until about 10:45. It was so good to see them. Randy's temp has been up and down, but I seem to be the only one worried about checking it. After he got checked in at the triage desk in ER, no one else checked it all day, except me. It came down to 99 in the middle of the afternoon, but just before we left the ER, it had crept back up to 100.9. When I told the ER nurse about it, he just kind of looked at me and said something like, "the doctor has Tylenol ordered if it gets above 101." I think they could tell how frustrated I was about having to wait nearly 12 hours in the ER, at least 10 of that after we were told he would be admitted, and no one who seemed to understand why I was concerned about his temp. I know long waits in the ER are not uncommon. What gets to me is how healthcare works (or doesn't sometimes).​ When the ER doctor call​ed the oncologist on call (who wasn't the regular doctor), this doctor said he didn't know anything about Randy's case and to have his medical doctor admit him (yet another doctor) and the oncologist will consult on the case, if needed (if needed???).​ So the ER doctor contacted the doctor's office in the afternoon and was told the doctor on call for regular doctorwas yet another doctor, (who also doesn't know anything about Randy) would be over to admit him (after he finished in the office, of course!). So doctor number 3 came in about 6:30 and wrote admission orders and was truly very nice. He listened to our concerns and was agreeable to Randy taking his medicines that I had brought from home. We weren't sure the pharmacy would even have some of these meds and I knew he would need them. Of course, the day shift is not going to admit a patient at the end of the shift, so we waited for night shift to come on at seven pm. Eight pm came, then nine and still no word about when he would go to a room. I finally asked the nurse for a time estimate. He was apologetic, saying he had tried to call report on Randy to the floor nurse but the floor nurse couldn't take the report just then becaus​e she had just gotten a patient back from surgery. W​e would have to wait (again​) until someone else's time table accommodate​d us.
About 10:15, we finally left the ER and got to the room and got all the questions answered (you know how the admission process goes). The tech said his temp was 99.6 and Randy said he was feeling ok. No headache, no bone pain. But, about 20 minutes after we got to the room, Randy got nauseated and so I gave him some of his Compazine from home. I went out in the hall to find some washcloths and towels (there weren't any in the bathroom) so I could put a cold compress on his throat and none of the staff were anywhere to be seen. They were all in patient rooms, so I know they are busy. The clerk, who remembered me, got me the washcloths and towels. I guess we didn't get the Compazine i​n soon enough, because when I got back in the room, he threw up a bit. Ramona and Dustin left about then and the nurse came in fairly quickly. S​he took his temp again (at my request) and it was 101.1. Time for more Tylenol. The nurse has been very attentive, but I know she's busy. They should be coming around soon for midnight vital signs and we'll check his temp again. He doesn't feel too warm. It's about 12:30 and he's sleeping no​w, but I can't. I'll keep vigil here through the night and try to nap some. He doesn't have any IV fluids going and he's not due for any more IV antibiotics until tomorrow. He did get his Cipro and Penicillin ​from his home meds just before he got nauseated, but I think he may have lost some of that when he got sick. Please pray with me that God will keep him safe through the night and that he will get whatever he needs to keep any lurking infection under control. It's going to be a long night"....and it was.  Saturday did not start out any better and so her Saturday post was...."I've been too upset to post anything today, but I know a lot of you are wondering about Randy. The good news is that he is sleeping right now and we are being transferred to Atlanta. He hasn't thrown up any more since last night and he gotten some sleep. His PICC line has clotted off. I've asked them to call the PICC line nurse and have her look at it and see if it can be salvaged. If it can't, he will have to have the line pulled and a new access inserted (more exposure to potential infection, not to mention the pain of insertion...​all unnecessary​). He can't get the IV antibiotics until he has a patent IV line. The doctor ordered some cath flow be put in it to try to open it up, but you can see by the time of this posting nothing has been done yet. The doctor has agreed to transfer him to Atlanta and we've been waiting on a bed. I've just been told that Emory is contacting the case manager here about our transfer. Please pray for the staff here. They obviously have a lot going on out there and I know the ER was packed yesterday with stretchers filled with patients lining the hall ways. I ran into the person on call for administrat​ion here at the nurses station a few minutes ago. She usually isn't here on the weekends, but she's here today. The house supervisor is out there, too. That tells me something isn't right out there today (besides Randy). There are about 28 beds on this floor. I don't think they had any empty beds when the day shift got here today. Our tech is one of only two on duty today. Two techs. Fourteen sick patients each. They've done their best to be nice and see that we have what we need, but they are overwhelmed.​ The staff here need your prayers. I know what it's like to work in these conditions, how terrible you feel and how stressed it makes you when you just can't give enough to meet the need. The staff really want to do a good job, but they can't control a lot of these things. I'​ve been so focused on our situation that I really have​n't taken a step back to look at what else is going on here and to think of someone besides Randy. We'​re not the only patient here and in the big scheme of things, we will get to where we need to be and get the care Randy needs. I​t's 2:20 pm and the PICC nurse just came in and got Randy's lines to flush. The PICC line is working. Thanks for your prayers. Thank you, Lord, for taking care of us. We don't have to go by ambulance. I will be taking him in the car." When Randy called with the news that they were on their way to Atlanta...it was like relief.  We all had been working in their yard today....and worried when we heard nothing.  I truly believe God is in control.  If you are a praying person...consider this a call for all Prayer Warriors.  We need prayers.  We need this to just be a bump in the road.  We need Amanda to rest.  Won't you pray with me for these things? 

The Evil Tree

One fine day, some General came on the military base that I live at and declared that base housing had no curb appeal.

This caused people to panic—“oh noes, a General is unhappy!’ and then suddenly it was announced that flowers and trees would be planted in the housing area.

The thing is, I don’t have plants in my yard. Because I kill them. But the base didn’t care. They appeared in everyone’s yards and started planting things, even when people would complain.

Want to know the kicker?

They said if the plants died that we’d have to pay for them.

I might as well write a check now. Because the plants will die. I have a black thumb and plants shrink away from me when they see me coming. I imagine rose bushes having conversations with the daisies—“brace yourself, lad, Amber is coming.”

We weren’t here when our stuff was planted. So when we came home, there were the plants.



Oh, and this sad looking tree.



I hate how they just planted it in our yard. That just gives me something else to have to avoid when I mow. And the tree is sad, something out of a Charlie Brown special. We even called base housing and they were all, “Oh, the antelopes like to chew on them. It’s your job to nurse it back to health.”

“Actually, it’s YOUR job to nurse it back to health because you planted the crappy thing, you twat!” I retorted.

Well. I didn’t really say it. But I thought it.

The tree is stubborn and doesn’t want to return from the brink of death.

Our plants look like they’ve seen better days.

Knowing the military they planted all the cheap will-die-in-a-month stuff anyhow. That way they can be all, “Oh, you owe us for that,” and make some extra cash.

Know something else about the tree?

I keep thinking that it’s a person. I’ll walk past the front door, do a double take and think, “Why is a person just standing in our yard?”

It’s worse at night.

When I walk into our bedroom, the window is right in front of me so I’m constantly thinking, “Who is in our yard? Do I have a stalker?”



Tom is used to my paranoia. So the other night when I went, “Who is that?” he replied without a worry in his voice, “It’s the tree, Amber.”

I hate the tree! I have daydreams about pulling it from the ground and hurling it onto the street with a sign that reads: “Dear Military—don’t want it, but thanks anyway.”

The antelope won’t stop eating it. I had to run out and shoo them away and my neighbors were outside so they probably think I’m an animal hater. I ran out there with my arms waving in the air shrieking, “Step away from the ugly tree!” If PETA saw that they’d probably issue a statement saying something like, “Amber, a blogger, was seen yelling at defenseless antelope who were minding their own business.”

But they weren’t minding their own business. They were chewing up the tree that I didn’t even want. Now it looks like it’s dead and I refuse to pay for something that I didn’t kill.

I hope you’re happy, FE Warren AFB.

Singing for the Residents

Yesterday, before I was so rudely accosted by Wal-Mart Man, I sang for the residents of the nursing home where my mom resides.  I was to begin at 2 and end around 3.  I got there at 1:30 and set up my stuff...while the nursing home people brought the residents in for the entertainment.  I tuned my guitar, spoke to the few that were already there, waited for my mother...and at 2, promptly on the dot, I hit the ground running with the Hank Williams classic, "Hey Good Looking."  I looked around at the room while I was singing and several of them were singing with me.  This was a bonus for me....so I kept the pace up for a bit.  Then...from the right side of the room...I heard his voice.  No, it was not the Wal-Mart man....but it was a resident...singing loudly with me....he was always a little behind in the words...but he was having a high-ho good time.  I loved it!  For the next hour I filled the room with gospel music and tunes from the likes of Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Jim Reeves, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Ray Price, Doris Day, and the Sons of the Pioneers.  When I picked my playlist I took into consideration the residents ages and fortunately for me...my family is a musical one...I know the old stuff like the back of my hand.  The residents knew almost every song I sang and had big smiles on their faces.  I fed off the fact that they were so into the music.  If they did not sing...I made that song a short one...and moved to another.  I told some stories in between some of the songs....they loved the one about Hank Williams being in jail in Alex City and writing Kowliga.  I did not sing Kowliga....but I did do "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry."  The hour passed way to fast and before I knew it it was time to close out the entertainment....with my huge gospel medley.  I wanted to sing a lot....so I smashed them all together in one song....all the G D C chord songs...."I'll Fly Away, Do Lord, This Little Light", "Will the Circle be Unbroken," "I Saw the Light"...and finished up with a last chorus of "I'll Fly Away."  The applause was deafening....for nursing home residents.  I closed the time with a prayer and I don't know what got into me...but it was a passionate one.  The activities director told me I had to come back.....The verbal residents all asked me to come back....that was so very touching, and several of the residents stayed around to talk after the performance.  You all know I have missed singing at the Arbor.....alot....since we moved to Rock Mills....but yesterday.....I found a wonderful way to fill that void.  God love the residents.  My momma was thrilled.  She made sure she told everyone .....that I was her girl.  She sat right in front of me, singing and beaming the whole time.  Yesterday was a good day....and I love my mom! 

Next Season on Survivor

I had planned to post about my singing venture at the nursing home today....but it will have to wait until tomorrow.  I was in Wal-Mart today and the rudest man was eavesdropping on a conversation between the cashier and myself....she asked me if I was ready to start back to school...August 2nd is just around the corner...and before I told her yes....he piped in with....oh yeah....lucky you....the perpetual summer....only work nine months a year...and get paid for twelve.  I turned around, smiled and asked him if he was a salaried employee?  He responded in the affirmative...and I told him...so was I.  I CHOSE to take my nine month salary and have it spread out over twelve months so it did not interrupt my insurance.  He seemed rather ashamed....but all the way home from Alex City to Rock Mills...it just gnawed at me....and then when I got home someone had sent me the greatest email....and I had to share it with you.  BTW....Have you heard about the next planned "Survivor" show?  Three businessmen(I hope it is the guy in Wal-Mart) and three businesswomen will be dropped in an elementary school classroom for 1 school year. Each business person will be provided with a copy of his/her school district's curriculum, and a class of 20-25(good thing they are not being dropped into the high school....I have had 32 students in one class...180 per year) students.  Each class will have a minimum of five learning-disabled children, three with A.D.H.D(for the rookies out there....that means....Attention Deficit Hyperactive disorder)., one gifted child, and two who speak limited English. Three students will be labeled with severe behavior problems. Each business person must complete lesson plans at least a week in advance, with annotations for curriculum objectives and modify, organize, or create their materials accordingly. They will be required to teach students, handle misconduct, implement technology, document attendance, reward the students, write referrals, correct homework, make bulletin boards, compute grades, complete report cards, document benchmarks, communicate with parents, and arrange parent conferences. They must also stand in their doorway between class changes to monitor the hallways. Lower grades will be required to do breakfast duty, lunch duty, after school care and walk the students to the bus. In addition, they will complete fire drills, tornado drills, and [Code Red] drills for shooting attacks each month. They will also take ill students to the nurse, clean up "accidents" as well as disinfecting desks, tables, and anything else that the student comes in contact with. They will provide equipment and supplies out of their own money. They must attend workshops, faculty meetings,and attend curriculum development meetings. They must also tutor students who are behind and strive to get their 2 non-English speaking children proficient enough to take the state imposed tests. If they are sick or having a bad day they must not let it show. Each day they must incorporate reading, writing, math, science, and social studies into the program. They must maintain discipline and provide an educationally stimulating environment to motivate students at all times. If all students do not wish to cooperate, work, or learn, the teacher will be held responsible. The business people will only have access to the public golf course on the weekends, but with their new salary, they may not be able to afford it. There will be no access to vendors who want to take them out to lunch, and lunch will be limited to thirty minutes, which is not counted as part of their work day. Quick digress...several years ago...my mom had lunch with me and two of my teacher buddies....we ordered our Arby's sandwiches....sat down, unwrapped them....and never spoke again until the food was gone....or the eating period was over.  My mom thought it was the weirdest thing she had ever seen....She said...you all dropped your heads, ate, never spoke...and then it was like someone had rung a bell...and you all packed up....whether you were finished or not....and sat....fidgeting....ready to go.  Well.. duh....we went to school ourselves for 13+ years....where we only had 30 minutes for lunch....and now we do it everyday....and heaven forbid that you should have to go to the bathroom during that time....eat faster....or eat on the way to the bathroom.  Anyways, back to my story....The business people will be permitted to use the restroom, as long as another survival candidate can supervise their class. If the copier is operable, they may make copies of necessary materials before, or after, school. However, they cannot surpass their monthly limit of copies. The business people must continually advance their education, at their expense, and on their own time. The winner of this Season of Survivor will be allowed to return to their job. I worked in the business world before I became a teacher...so I understand the stress and stuff that goes along with that job....and I am tolerant of it.  So...next time you are tempted to say to a teacher....ahhhh....you only teach for June, July and August....think twice....don't say it....besides...I start back...August 2nd....and have been taking two classes all summer. Teaching is NOT easy.  It is not a big paying job.....BUT...it is my job....and I love it.  I don't like it when people make fun of it....or me.  Soooo....sorry you got a soap box today....laced with humor....tomorrow I will tell you the singing story...it is a riot!  BTW, my good friend Kevin Lanier made the eagle picture in Alaska a few weeks ago.  Pretty awesome huh?

Big Ships and Fireworks

“Isn’t the ship amazing?” my husband Tom asked as we headed for the USS North Carolina.

“It’s....big,” I answered as we climbed on board.



My husband loves ships. Especially if they served in World War 2. His eyes were glowing as he took everything in.



It was the fourth of July and we were in Wilmington, North Carolina. Before checking into our hotel we decided to check out the ship. While Tom was admiring the weapons on the ship, I was wondering why people weren’t wearing their red, white, and blue. Tom sort of had red, white, and blue on. He was sporting a Beavis and Butthead shirt. The kids definitely were. It bothered me that I couldn’t bring Natalie’s matching shoes to coordinate better with her outfits but Tom put his foot down and went, “No. One pair is all she needs.”

I snuck in another pair.

He wasn’t pleased to find them.

“What are these?” he had asked, as they tumbled from the suitcase.

“Oh, wow, I guess Natalie threw them in there!” I said, but I’m an awful liar so Tom knew it wasn’t the truth.



The good thing about the ship was that there were a bunch of things to push. I love pushing buttons.



I didn’t even know Tom took this picture. I was too busy pushing buttons. Tom finds this amusing that as a grown adult, I still like messing with things. He didn’t even feel the need to push buttons. What’s wrong with him?



Natalie started pushing buttons. That’s my girl.

Anyhow, after the ship my sister-in-law’s husband was all, “Wanna see the studio where Dawson’s Creek was filmed?” I had to stop myself from shouting, “YES!” Instead I bobbed my head and went, “That would be lovely.”

So...



Here is the building.

It’s not much, is it?

I craned my neck as if I expected to see Katie Holmes before she got kidnapped by Tom Cruise.

I found out later that tours are offered in there and you can see the boat Pacey had and Dawson’s bedroom.

Maybe another time.

I’d probably have to go with someone who liked Dawson’s Creek though. No one who I was with watched it. I tried to explain the show and just got blank looks. Someone thought that it was a gay show because they thought Joey was a man. So..anyone wanna go on a Dawson’s Creek tour with me someday?

We explored the area. I was amused by this street sign.



Wouldn’t it be fun to live on Princess street?

I love Wilmington. I’d live there, if we could afford it.

We checked into our hotel and this was our view:



See those boats? I wish I knew someone with a boat.



We weren’t far from the USS North Carolina.

Later that evening we sat by the pool waiting for the fireworks.



Yes, Natalie is changed. Her fourth of July outfit had a unfortunate accident with a slice of pizza.



The fireworks were shot off from the battleship we were at so we could see them nicely.



Natalie wasn’t totally sure if she liked the fireworks or not.



These people in front of us kept kissing whenever a firework went off. It got to the point where Tom and I were leaning over to each other going, “I wonder if they’re going to kiss...”



And then, we brought two tired kids to bed. Tommy was not happy sharing a bed with his sister.

“She smells,” he argued.

“She does not,” I insisted.

“She’ll hog the covers!”

“She won’t.”

“If she does, just take them back, you’re bigger,” Tom, ever the solution man, said.

In the end they slept well.

And I went to sleep dreaming about knowing someone who owned a boat.

Who is the Mother Here?

Yesterday, I blogged a great upbeat, feel good post about my mom's friendship quilt...I was so proud of it.  I checked my emails several times during the day...hoping someone would comment.  My feelings were a bit dashed when there were no comments made on my post....then I thought....whatever...I didn't blog it for someone to read. anyways..I blogged it for my own mental health.  I needed a feel good moment yesterday because Monday I got a phone call from a local lawyer.  She told me that she had the papers ready for me to sign....noooo...I am not getting a divorce.  I am taking custody of my mother....legally.  This process started back in October.  It is what month?  You got it...it is mid-July and we are finally at a point...where the ball is rolling.  Frank and I were going to Alex City anyways to see my mom so we just detoured through Dadeville to the lawyers office.  I signed a set of legal documents that left me feeling sick and weary.  Signing these papers meant that my mother and the nursing home administrator will be served one day this week.  Remember my mom?  She is the one in a dementia unit at a nursing home.  The the courts will appoint a lawyer for her(he will go and visit her) and then a court date will be set.  I have been out of school since June 1st.  When will court be....oh....the first week I go back to school...talk about lousy timing....so I will have to take time off to go to the Probate Judges office...along with the lawyers, the nursing home administrator...and the judge will read the statements...ask some questions...and declare me my mothers keeper.  After signing the papers, Frank and I headed back to Rock Mills....and I cried.  I cried for many reasons.  I cried because this is not right.  It is not right that my mother is now my child.  I cried because the woman who was my mother does not exist much anymore.  I cried because I am scared...I am scared that one day...this could be me.....but then I thought...NO!  Wait!  This will not ever be me...because I am not as stubborn as my mom....and I will make sure my children are on my checking accounts and know where the important papers are.  I have already told my daughter....if you see me keeping Pizza boxes...put me in a nursing home.  We found a car title...in a PIZZA BOX!  I am a bit angry at myself....obviously my mother's dementia had been there longer than I knew.  I feel like I let her down.  I wish I could tell her how sorry I am....but she would not remember.  She remembers less and less.  A whole plethera of emotions flooded my soul yesterday....but then it clicked...I needed to forwarn the nursing home that this was coming....so I called them as soon as I got home.  The nursing home administrator assured me that they do this all the time...piece of cake.  I also asked her to let me know when they served my mom....so I would not go waltzing in to see her...and have her go ballistic on me.  She assured me again....that that would not happen...but that she would call when the process server came.  Whew!  I can imagine that scenario.  U-G-L-Y!  I thought when my children left home...that that form of mothering was over.  I did not have empty nest syndrome...nope...I enjoyed every moment of my new found freedom.  Now....I find myself once again in the caregiver mode.  I don't have to take care of her 24/7...but I am still in charge of her.  Sigh!  I hate dementia!  One of my friends asked me the other day if I was ok...she said I looked so sad.  Then she asked if Frank and I were having problems.  FRANK AND I HAVING PROBLEMS????  That is the least of my worries.  Frank loves me enough to deal with my mom with me.  This man has earned his crown and jewels in heaven...believe me.  Nope...I told my friend.  I am sad....I am sad...because all of a sudden....I don't know who the mother is here.  The roles have been reversed....and no one asked me if I wanted to play.  Believe me...if they had...I would have said a resounding....NO!

Back In North Carolina....

So.

Back to when we were in North Carolina.



While we were there we went to a museum full of tanks, guns, airplanes, etc.....basically a man’s dream.



This was in a pretend airplane and Natalie is clearly thinking, “Where the eff am I?” And yes, those would be my nieces.



Tom took tons of pictures of all the weapons. I’ll spare you and just post this one.

He was practically salivating against the glass and muttered something like, “I miss my weapon.” Since he’s been on leave he hasn’t been able to carry a gun around like he did at work.



Now it’s Tommy’s turn to be like, “Where the eff am I?”



This is some airplane jeep thing. Tom took multiple photos of it. I think the thing was turning him on or something.



Tom is smiling so he’s definitely loving the museum.



Natalie is pissed because she wanted to go in the helicopter. She didn’t understand the words “display” and “go to jail if you messed with it.”



Tommy hanging out with his cousin.

After the museum we went back to Tom’s sister’s house to celebrate my niece’s birthday. She was turning 8.



There was a Spongebob piñata and Natalie took the stick and charged at it. Ahh yes, she’s my little jouster.



Anyhow, her Aunt had to explain that no, we aren’t meant to spear Spongebob but smack the crap out of him.

The older kids understood:









With the tweens, Tom would lift Spongebob up as they swung. He found this hilarious when they’d swing and hit the air.

When Spongebob was eventually smacked open, it freaked Natalie out. She had no problems smacking the thing but when she saw him all torn up with candy spilling from him, she was concerned.

“What happened to Spongebob?” she kept asking. “Will he be okay?”

I shielded her eyes as the tween girls took the stick and continued to smash the crap out of the thing.

“He’ll be great,” I lied and distracted her with some of the candy. I don’t think we’ll be getting a piñata at her party.

Then it came time to open presents and let me tell you, I had no idea what to get an eight-year-old girl. Eight-year-old boys I know. Girls? Not so much. My girl is still into Barbies and creepy Yo Gabba Gabba. I guessed when I bought her gift. And...



....I guessed right because she had been wanting an iDog. Score one for the Aunt!

--------------

Also, Andrea of Las Vegas Mama asked me to guest blog here.

I'm sort of jealous that she lives in Las Vegas. Although I've never actually been. But from the stories I hear, it's a ball of fun.