Day 3 of our adventure was less than exciting. However, we do have some news to report…
The good: We started our day just south of Atlanta, GA. We made it all the way to Port Richey, FL on the gulf coast of Florida. We are currently less than an hour from our destination. So, needless to say, we made some good time on Interstate 75. And even though we were on the road for quite an extended period of time, the kids still had good dispositions and good attitudes. The conversations my grandmother and I are having are good and I am still learning more and more about this wonderful woman.
The bad: As we traveled down the interstate, my bladder had finally won the battle and we needed to pull over at a rest stop. As I was beginning to park the car, I read the signs indicating where to park. One sign actually read: “Warning: Poisonous snakes may be in restrooms“!! I was utterly shocked. Shocked enough that I almost relieved myself right then and there as I read the sign. So, as you can imagine, we pressed on to the next rest stop 40 miles down the road.
The ugly: We made it to the next area to pull over and get everyone out of the cars. We made lunch and let the kids run around the grassy field to burn off some pent up energy. Then as we were loading back up I made one last restroom trip.
That is when I saw them. Everyone saw them. Come to think of it, everyone was staring at them. They were walking so slowly. Hand in hand. Shoulder to shoulder. She was leaning against him as he was supporting her weight. But she didn’t weigh all that much. Probably not even 100 lbs. She was obviously suffering from cancer. Actually, with no official medical diagnosis, I would guess that she was not suffering from cancer bur rather dying from cancer. She had obvious signs of chemotherapy treatments. She was bald and weak. More weak than I have ever seen anyone. I just sat down, watched them get back in their car with a pink ribbon on it and began to weep silently.
As I watched them drive off into the sunset, quite possibly one of her last sunsets, I thought about what an ugly thing something like cancer is. How ugly and difficult it would be to suffer through it. How ugly it would be to watch your loved one suffer with it. I have never had to deal with this particular disease first hand and I hope I never do. But if life ever comes to that I hope I have someone to walk hand in hand with me. Because that was something beautiful to see.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
A Handful of Trees
Today we took an amazing trip through the Smokey Mountains. We drove for many hours through some incredibly beautiful scenery. As we were driving I would point out various trees that had their fall foliage. It seemed like I was pointing out groups of trees about every 10-20 seconds. Then we came up to a huge hillside. There had to be nearly a million trees of every color on that particular hillside. We were in awe. Then as we turned the corner, there was yet another. Not just another hillside. Another million trees covering the hillside. And on this went for the duration of the day. Millions and millions on colorful trees lined the mountainous earth in front of us.
Scripture says that God has the hair on our heads numbered. My head. Your head. Everyone’s head. So, it would stand to reason that He knows exactly how many trees are on this very curvy road through this state park. I am also not naïve enough to think I have even begun to see all the trees He has created. There are so many more. The ones lost to lumberjacks and forest fires. The ones cut down to clear the path for the road I traveled. The ones on the other side of the mountains range, the other side of the US and the ones on the other side of the earth. I am sure that the millions of trees that I got the chance to see today are just a handful of what there is.
And even though it took us 8 hours to drive through one of the skinniest states our great nation has to offer, it was well worth hearing my grandmother say “Oh, my gracious. This is simply gorgeous!”. Even if she did say it as many times as there are trees in southern Tennessee.
Scripture says that God has the hair on our heads numbered. My head. Your head. Everyone’s head. So, it would stand to reason that He knows exactly how many trees are on this very curvy road through this state park. I am also not naïve enough to think I have even begun to see all the trees He has created. There are so many more. The ones lost to lumberjacks and forest fires. The ones cut down to clear the path for the road I traveled. The ones on the other side of the mountains range, the other side of the US and the ones on the other side of the earth. I am sure that the millions of trees that I got the chance to see today are just a handful of what there is.
And even though it took us 8 hours to drive through one of the skinniest states our great nation has to offer, it was well worth hearing my grandmother say “Oh, my gracious. This is simply gorgeous!”. Even if she did say it as many times as there are trees in southern Tennessee.
Florida or Bust
My maternal grandmother is a snow bird. Every winter she migrates to the south for the cold weather. She usually takes her journey to Florida in late autumn and returns to Indiana in time for Easter. I have had the privilege of making this trip with her numerous times.
Before I was married with children, I drove her down in the fall and flew back home. Then, over Spring Break, I would fly down to retrieve her. I loved every minute of it. I got to spend time with a loved one while taking a vacation. For a teacher, it was a paid vacation. It was also an all expenses included vacation because Grandma picked up the tab. It was a dream "job" made just for me.
However, now that I have a family of my own it is not quite so easy to be gone for several days in a row to make this annual excursion. But as luck would have it, I am fortunate enough to be able to provide this taxi service again this year for my aging grandma. I realize that her years are now numbered and I want to enjoy as many of these annual trips as possible before she leaves this earth. And even though the road is long and sometimes stressful, I really love the time we get to spend getting to learn more about each other. Just today Grandma shared something with me that few people know that she wants me to share at her funeral--and not until then. I feel privileged and honored.
I know that these opportunities will only strengthen our bond and increase our love for one another. Even though she is an old woman set in her ways, she is my grandmother and I love her. And who knows maybe someday I will have to be asking my own granddaughter to drive me to Florida every year.
Before I was married with children, I drove her down in the fall and flew back home. Then, over Spring Break, I would fly down to retrieve her. I loved every minute of it. I got to spend time with a loved one while taking a vacation. For a teacher, it was a paid vacation. It was also an all expenses included vacation because Grandma picked up the tab. It was a dream "job" made just for me.
However, now that I have a family of my own it is not quite so easy to be gone for several days in a row to make this annual excursion. But as luck would have it, I am fortunate enough to be able to provide this taxi service again this year for my aging grandma. I realize that her years are now numbered and I want to enjoy as many of these annual trips as possible before she leaves this earth. And even though the road is long and sometimes stressful, I really love the time we get to spend getting to learn more about each other. Just today Grandma shared something with me that few people know that she wants me to share at her funeral--and not until then. I feel privileged and honored.
I know that these opportunities will only strengthen our bond and increase our love for one another. Even though she is an old woman set in her ways, she is my grandmother and I love her. And who knows maybe someday I will have to be asking my own granddaughter to drive me to Florida every year.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Grand Theft Auto
I have always wondered what crime has to be committed to be considered “Grand Theft Auto”. Is it considered grand theft because the vehicle has to be worth $1000? Or is it grand because the vehicle is distinguished? Either way, if Matt’s beat-up work truck would ever get stolen the criminal would not be charged with grand theft auto. Maybe ”Petty Theft Auto” or even “Ordinary Theft Auto” but definitely not “Grand”.
So is the amount stolen the determining factor for crimes? If stolen goods are more or less than 1000? Let’s say I take $200 from the church is that a large theft? What if I take 500 Kleenex boxes from the counselor’s office? Is that big theft? What if I take more than 999 push pins from the office? Is that a major crime even if it is still under 1000?
Why do I ask?
You have to understand that we lived in an apartment for 3 years. During those years I yearned to look our my window and see rows of plant life including, but not limited to, daises, lilies, and clematis. I longed for the days of being able to sit out in my own backyard while the children played on the swing set and admire my flowers.
So when I confess to you that I have taken over 1000 flower bulbs from various locations around town you will appreciate my curiosity into my concerns if this will be considered grand theft.
Now, let’s be very clear…I did NOT steal anyone’s foliage. I actually got permission from many of my friends to thin our their own flower collections. I am (Ok, maybe not just me.) then going to plant all of these wonderful corms in our back yard. Then every year when they bloom I will be reminded of the many friendships that help cultivate that space. I will be reminded of the vast amount of brotherly love that went into all the bouquets. We will name it our “Phileo Garden”.
So every spring and summer as I am enjoying my colorful and fragrant yard I will think of all of you that contributed to it. And as I sit there enjoying the arrangements, I will wonder if the police are coming with charges of Grand Theft Flower.
Thank yous to everyone who donated! And a huge thank you to AT, HT and AC for all the help getting them planted. I couldn’t have done it without any of you.
So is the amount stolen the determining factor for crimes? If stolen goods are more or less than 1000? Let’s say I take $200 from the church is that a large theft? What if I take 500 Kleenex boxes from the counselor’s office? Is that big theft? What if I take more than 999 push pins from the office? Is that a major crime even if it is still under 1000?
Why do I ask?
You have to understand that we lived in an apartment for 3 years. During those years I yearned to look our my window and see rows of plant life including, but not limited to, daises, lilies, and clematis. I longed for the days of being able to sit out in my own backyard while the children played on the swing set and admire my flowers.
So when I confess to you that I have taken over 1000 flower bulbs from various locations around town you will appreciate my curiosity into my concerns if this will be considered grand theft.
Now, let’s be very clear…I did NOT steal anyone’s foliage. I actually got permission from many of my friends to thin our their own flower collections. I am (Ok, maybe not just me.) then going to plant all of these wonderful corms in our back yard. Then every year when they bloom I will be reminded of the many friendships that help cultivate that space. I will be reminded of the vast amount of brotherly love that went into all the bouquets. We will name it our “Phileo Garden”.
So every spring and summer as I am enjoying my colorful and fragrant yard I will think of all of you that contributed to it. And as I sit there enjoying the arrangements, I will wonder if the police are coming with charges of Grand Theft Flower.
Thank yous to everyone who donated! And a huge thank you to AT, HT and AC for all the help getting them planted. I couldn’t have done it without any of you.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Our Mark
I have been asked to lead our women’s Bible study class this week. We are currently studying the book of Revelation. Somehow, I ended up with a particularly difficult session. Here is what I will be sharing:
While studying at Purdue, I always knew when Easter was right around the corner. Every year hundreds of students would walk around campus with a dirt smudge on their foreheads. I could not fathom why anyone would attend classes looking like they just cleaned out an ashtray with their hairline. However, I did know that brightly colored eggs and chocolate bunnies would soon follow.
Then, my junior year, I dated a Catholic. I learned about Ash Wednesday first hand. My boyfriend and I (and every other Catholic student on campus) went to mass on this particular day to stand in line to wait for the priest to smear ashes on our foreheads. As I stood in line I looked around at all the faces that had dared to participate in this holy event. Did they frequent St. Tom’s every Sunday? I know I didn’t. Did they come to hear a message about the season of Lent? Again, I didn’t. Were they all there just to get their ashes so that they could report back to their mothers that they had participated in the ritual and were ready for Easter? I am not sure.
Now, many years later, I am sure I am sure of something. I am sure that we are all waiting in line for a mark on our foreheads. Ezekiel tells us that God commands a man with a writing kit to “put a mark on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the detestable thing that are done…”
That mark is going to be either a “X” or a “+” right smack in the middle of our temples, right in the front of our heads, for all to see. And contrary to the Catholic ashes this mark is going to be permanent. More like a tattoo. But trust me when I tell you that you are going to want it to be permanent. You aren’t going to want to wash this one off because later in that same chapter of Ezekiel we are told God then commands that everyone in the city, old men, young, men, women and children are to be slain. “But do not touch anyone who has the mark.” (Ez 9:6)
Just like the Israelites in Egypt needed a sign or mark on their door post for the angel of death to pass over them. We too are going to need this mark for our own protection from the wrath of God. In Revelation we are told that God is going to send locusts with the power of scorpions to earth to harm “those people who do not have to seal of God on their foreheads.”
We can chose to wear this symbol of the cross or not. But let me warn you that not wearing this specific mark does not mean you will have a vacant spot on your head. You see, everyone else who does not receive this mark will receive another. It is called the mark of the beast. I doubt it will be obvious like a “666” on your crown but it will be a mark indicating that you worship the imagine of the beast, the devil, rather than worshipping God.
Yes, we are all in line for a mark of some sort. We get to choose which one. But this is more than just some ashes we can tell our moms about. Or even a smudge to wear around campus for the day. This is a mark that that will determine where you spend eternity. Make your choice and get your mark.
While studying at Purdue, I always knew when Easter was right around the corner. Every year hundreds of students would walk around campus with a dirt smudge on their foreheads. I could not fathom why anyone would attend classes looking like they just cleaned out an ashtray with their hairline. However, I did know that brightly colored eggs and chocolate bunnies would soon follow.
Then, my junior year, I dated a Catholic. I learned about Ash Wednesday first hand. My boyfriend and I (and every other Catholic student on campus) went to mass on this particular day to stand in line to wait for the priest to smear ashes on our foreheads. As I stood in line I looked around at all the faces that had dared to participate in this holy event. Did they frequent St. Tom’s every Sunday? I know I didn’t. Did they come to hear a message about the season of Lent? Again, I didn’t. Were they all there just to get their ashes so that they could report back to their mothers that they had participated in the ritual and were ready for Easter? I am not sure.
Now, many years later, I am sure I am sure of something. I am sure that we are all waiting in line for a mark on our foreheads. Ezekiel tells us that God commands a man with a writing kit to “put a mark on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the detestable thing that are done…”
That mark is going to be either a “X” or a “+” right smack in the middle of our temples, right in the front of our heads, for all to see. And contrary to the Catholic ashes this mark is going to be permanent. More like a tattoo. But trust me when I tell you that you are going to want it to be permanent. You aren’t going to want to wash this one off because later in that same chapter of Ezekiel we are told God then commands that everyone in the city, old men, young, men, women and children are to be slain. “But do not touch anyone who has the mark.” (Ez 9:6)
Just like the Israelites in Egypt needed a sign or mark on their door post for the angel of death to pass over them. We too are going to need this mark for our own protection from the wrath of God. In Revelation we are told that God is going to send locusts with the power of scorpions to earth to harm “those people who do not have to seal of God on their foreheads.”
We can chose to wear this symbol of the cross or not. But let me warn you that not wearing this specific mark does not mean you will have a vacant spot on your head. You see, everyone else who does not receive this mark will receive another. It is called the mark of the beast. I doubt it will be obvious like a “666” on your crown but it will be a mark indicating that you worship the imagine of the beast, the devil, rather than worshipping God.
Yes, we are all in line for a mark of some sort. We get to choose which one. But this is more than just some ashes we can tell our moms about. Or even a smudge to wear around campus for the day. This is a mark that that will determine where you spend eternity. Make your choice and get your mark.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
You said what?
It is entertaining to watch our children learn. Especially when it comes to learning the English language. I mean, let’s face it, English is a confusing language. Actually I heard once, and have come to believe, that English is the most difficult language to learn.
So it is no wonder that my children are having a difficult time trying to communicate properly. Their most common misuses are the familiar verb tense issues like, ‘We goed to the store.“ or “He taked it away from me.” Rebekah’s most recent flub has been since she discovered contractions. Her newest one is: “I amn’t”.
“Rebekah are you bothering your brother?”
“No, I amn’t.”
“Rebekah, you need to eat your broccoli.”
“I amn’t eating that!”
It’s cute and funny --for now. She’s only five. It’s not so cute nor funny when it’s an adult who still doesn’t have a grasp of he English language. Now don’t’ get me wrong, I don’t expect everyone to be able to diagram sentences with predicates, subjects and articles. I do, however, expect an educated adult to know the difference between saying, “Give the ball to John and me.” and “Give the ball to John and I.’ Maybe it is because there has been such a big push to get people to start using “I’ in the subjective form (John and I went to the store.) that we somehow now think it always has to be “I”. But that is not always true. (Just for the record, you would give the ball to John and me.)
Some other misgrammars I have overheard are, "I don't have no shoes." or "Where's it at?". And who really knows if you are to lie down in bed or lay down in bed? And, there is always the question if there is an"R" sound in the midle of wash.
But, my favorite adult flub is: “Put it on Mike and I’s porch…” Seriously? Does that even sound right? "Put it on I’s porch"?? But, belive it or not, people, grown, educated people, really do say these things. I actually got a wedding card that had a note from a fellow teacher that said, “You got married on Tim and I’s anniversary.” She really did write that. No joke. A teacher.
Now, I am not saying that I always use correct grammar. I make my own share of mistakes. Come to think of it the more I stay at home with children who are making mistakes I am more likely to make them also. To be quite honest, I actually caught myself saying “tooked” in front of one of Matt’s cousins who is an English teacher. How embarrassing!
No, I may not be perfect but I hope I am teaching my children the best I can with the knowledge I have. But I am sure there days that I amn't.
So it is no wonder that my children are having a difficult time trying to communicate properly. Their most common misuses are the familiar verb tense issues like, ‘We goed to the store.“ or “He taked it away from me.” Rebekah’s most recent flub has been since she discovered contractions. Her newest one is: “I amn’t”.
“Rebekah are you bothering your brother?”
“No, I amn’t.”
“Rebekah, you need to eat your broccoli.”
“I amn’t eating that!”
It’s cute and funny --for now. She’s only five. It’s not so cute nor funny when it’s an adult who still doesn’t have a grasp of he English language. Now don’t’ get me wrong, I don’t expect everyone to be able to diagram sentences with predicates, subjects and articles. I do, however, expect an educated adult to know the difference between saying, “Give the ball to John and me.” and “Give the ball to John and I.’ Maybe it is because there has been such a big push to get people to start using “I’ in the subjective form (John and I went to the store.) that we somehow now think it always has to be “I”. But that is not always true. (Just for the record, you would give the ball to John and me.)
Some other misgrammars I have overheard are, "I don't have no shoes." or "Where's it at?". And who really knows if you are to lie down in bed or lay down in bed? And, there is always the question if there is an"R" sound in the midle of wash.
But, my favorite adult flub is: “Put it on Mike and I’s porch…” Seriously? Does that even sound right? "Put it on I’s porch"?? But, belive it or not, people, grown, educated people, really do say these things. I actually got a wedding card that had a note from a fellow teacher that said, “You got married on Tim and I’s anniversary.” She really did write that. No joke. A teacher.
Now, I am not saying that I always use correct grammar. I make my own share of mistakes. Come to think of it the more I stay at home with children who are making mistakes I am more likely to make them also. To be quite honest, I actually caught myself saying “tooked” in front of one of Matt’s cousins who is an English teacher. How embarrassing!
No, I may not be perfect but I hope I am teaching my children the best I can with the knowledge I have. But I am sure there days that I amn't.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Saturday was a perfect day to take the kids to the zoo. The weather was pleasant, the leaves were changing colors and the kids were behaving. What more could a girl ask for? It was absolutely perfect.
So after a way-too-early football game, we packed a picnic lunch as usual, loaded the kids into the van and headed out to visit the animals. As we traveled down the interstate we all commented on the amazing colors that autumn brings. We even decided to collect as many different color leaves as we could and make a leaf collage when we got home.
Everything was going great until we pulled in front of the zoo‘s entrance. In the middle of the parking lot is a strip of 20-30 trees. Trees to park your car under in the summer so that it isn’t blazing hot when we get back in. Trees that are decorated with gorgeous Christmas lights throughout the winter. Trees that bloom beautiful in the spring. Trees whose leaves are vibrant with a multitude of colors in the fall. Trees that we sit under when we have our picnic lunch. Trees that provide food for the birds and squirrels. Trees that help save our planet and provide oxygen. They were gone! Every last one of them…gone.
Upon inquiring about the missing foliage, we learned that there had been some requests made for more picnic tables. Zoo visitors are asked not to eat within the zoo grounds so many families retreat to the arboreal area for meals, hence the need for more tables. Unfortunately, when the corporate big wigs came for a visit to inspect the area for the said tables they decided that the forest would be better used as more parking spots.
Needless to say, we were very distraught, perplexed and concerned. I am planning to call the office and write a letter to express my feelings on the loss of our wonderful trees. I know that my one little letter will not bring back our trees or their colorful leaves but at least I know that tried. I just want them to know that they have at least one unhappy family who is missing their trees.
So after a way-too-early football game, we packed a picnic lunch as usual, loaded the kids into the van and headed out to visit the animals. As we traveled down the interstate we all commented on the amazing colors that autumn brings. We even decided to collect as many different color leaves as we could and make a leaf collage when we got home.
Everything was going great until we pulled in front of the zoo‘s entrance. In the middle of the parking lot is a strip of 20-30 trees. Trees to park your car under in the summer so that it isn’t blazing hot when we get back in. Trees that are decorated with gorgeous Christmas lights throughout the winter. Trees that bloom beautiful in the spring. Trees whose leaves are vibrant with a multitude of colors in the fall. Trees that we sit under when we have our picnic lunch. Trees that provide food for the birds and squirrels. Trees that help save our planet and provide oxygen. They were gone! Every last one of them…gone.
Upon inquiring about the missing foliage, we learned that there had been some requests made for more picnic tables. Zoo visitors are asked not to eat within the zoo grounds so many families retreat to the arboreal area for meals, hence the need for more tables. Unfortunately, when the corporate big wigs came for a visit to inspect the area for the said tables they decided that the forest would be better used as more parking spots.
Needless to say, we were very distraught, perplexed and concerned. I am planning to call the office and write a letter to express my feelings on the loss of our wonderful trees. I know that my one little letter will not bring back our trees or their colorful leaves but at least I know that tried. I just want them to know that they have at least one unhappy family who is missing their trees.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Applesauce!
Last fall, we just moved into our new house. I was in my third trimester of our last pregnancy. We still had unpacked boxes everywhere. Our oldest had just started kindergarten. But, most importantly, it was apple season. And because we finally had the kitchen space, Matt was anxious to make his famous applesauce. So, off we went for our annual trip to an orchard a couple of hours away to get the perfect apple type to make sauce. We then bought 14 bushels!! Let me just tell you--that’s a lot of apples.
So for the next couple of days we cleaned, cut, cranked and cooked apples. It took forever. My bulging belly kept me from being able to lean over the sink for too long. My swelling feet kept me from being able to stand and cut for too long. My aching back and general tiredness kept me from being any kind of help for too long. Never the less, Matt got all the applesauce made. I am really not sure how much he made but we had one entire chest freezer devoted solely to applesauce.
Yeah, that’s right--had. We had one chest freezer full. No, we didn’t sell it all. Nor did we get to eat it all. We didn’t give it all away or make Christmas presents out of it. As luck would have it we had a power outage. When the power came back on the freezer didn’t. Based on the lumps of hairy mold in the containers we guess that the surge was about 2-3 weeks before we found the horrible mess.
It broke my heart to see all that food being thrown in the garbage. Not only are we out the money we spent at the orchard. We are out those precious hours spent on making the sauce. Hours I could have been resting and not on my feet. Hours that we could have spent unpacking. Hours we could have spent with Caleb better preparing him for school. Hours we could have spent doing several other activities. But we are also out of all of those plastic containers to put more applesauce in this year.
So if you have any empty cottage cheese, sour cream, yogurt or similar plastic containers we need them. Lots of them. We are planning on making even more sauce this year. You know we will. We always do. No matter if we just moved or started school or are about ready to have a baby.
So for the next couple of days we cleaned, cut, cranked and cooked apples. It took forever. My bulging belly kept me from being able to lean over the sink for too long. My swelling feet kept me from being able to stand and cut for too long. My aching back and general tiredness kept me from being any kind of help for too long. Never the less, Matt got all the applesauce made. I am really not sure how much he made but we had one entire chest freezer devoted solely to applesauce.
Yeah, that’s right--had. We had one chest freezer full. No, we didn’t sell it all. Nor did we get to eat it all. We didn’t give it all away or make Christmas presents out of it. As luck would have it we had a power outage. When the power came back on the freezer didn’t. Based on the lumps of hairy mold in the containers we guess that the surge was about 2-3 weeks before we found the horrible mess.
It broke my heart to see all that food being thrown in the garbage. Not only are we out the money we spent at the orchard. We are out those precious hours spent on making the sauce. Hours I could have been resting and not on my feet. Hours that we could have spent unpacking. Hours we could have spent with Caleb better preparing him for school. Hours we could have spent doing several other activities. But we are also out of all of those plastic containers to put more applesauce in this year.
So if you have any empty cottage cheese, sour cream, yogurt or similar plastic containers we need them. Lots of them. We are planning on making even more sauce this year. You know we will. We always do. No matter if we just moved or started school or are about ready to have a baby.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Jack fell down and broke his crown
I woke up this morning with a strange pair of feet pressed up against my face. I am, more often than not, awaken laying next to our oldest son who happens to crawl into bed with us sometime in the middle of the night. But, these were not his feet. Sometimes, Rebekah joins us but these were also not hers. No, these feet belonged to Elizabeth. And, man did they stink!
Now, don’t get me wrong Elizabeth did not get up in the middle of the night and come and join us in our room. She actually started there. On purpose. By request. Not her request but by the request of the ER doctor.
Yesterday, as my mom and I were bargain hunting, Elizabeth fell out of the shopping cart. She tumbled from the cart, dropping roughly four feet onto the concrete floor. She landed on her forehead. She understandably cried for a while. Then, after some comfort from Grandma, she resumed her usual behavior and disposition. I thought nothing of it. We went on with our shopping journey. We came home and Elizabeth took her long-awaited nap. She woke up in a great mood and joined her older siblings on the swing set. As I was making dinner, she kept touching her head and indicating that it hurt. I then brushed back her bands to discover not a lump but an indentation.
I remember from Caleb’s encounter with the zoo’s cow that a raised bump indicated normal swelling and to not be concerned. However, I wasn’t quite sure what to think about a thumb-size dent in my toddler’s forehead. In a somewhat panic mode, I called our local Ask-A-Nurse (AKA Mary Carney) who was also perplexed by the situation. After some more phone calls to various doctors for whom I am grateful, we ended up in the ER for a better part of our night.
Elizabeth was an excellent patient. She was her usual charming self. She swallowed the pain medication with no problem. She was very calm and relaxed during her physical examination which included checking for broken bones. (I didn’t even think to do that.) She let the doctor inspect her up until she got to her head. Then the crying began. My sweet little two-year-old fought off anyone and everyone who wanted to get near her skull.
Then, the most unpleasant part of the entire evening was the dreaded CAT scan. They took that same sweet little, now wailing, child and literally strapped her down to a board and wrapped her in a lead jacket. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, they took an ace bandage and secured her head to the other end of the board. Yes, I understand (intellectually) that this is all necessary to get a high-quality reading. Nonetheless, my heart was aching for her. She was petrified. I was anxious. We both wanted to be done.
After a short little stay, we were cleared to go home. She had no bleeding in her brain nor had any broken skull pieces (remember that her skull is not completely fussed together yet). We were given some take home instructions of which include not letting her drive or operate large machinery and waking her every four hours. Hence, why she is in our bed. But that does not explain the stinky feet.
Now, don’t get me wrong Elizabeth did not get up in the middle of the night and come and join us in our room. She actually started there. On purpose. By request. Not her request but by the request of the ER doctor.
Yesterday, as my mom and I were bargain hunting, Elizabeth fell out of the shopping cart. She tumbled from the cart, dropping roughly four feet onto the concrete floor. She landed on her forehead. She understandably cried for a while. Then, after some comfort from Grandma, she resumed her usual behavior and disposition. I thought nothing of it. We went on with our shopping journey. We came home and Elizabeth took her long-awaited nap. She woke up in a great mood and joined her older siblings on the swing set. As I was making dinner, she kept touching her head and indicating that it hurt. I then brushed back her bands to discover not a lump but an indentation.
I remember from Caleb’s encounter with the zoo’s cow that a raised bump indicated normal swelling and to not be concerned. However, I wasn’t quite sure what to think about a thumb-size dent in my toddler’s forehead. In a somewhat panic mode, I called our local Ask-A-Nurse (AKA Mary Carney) who was also perplexed by the situation. After some more phone calls to various doctors for whom I am grateful, we ended up in the ER for a better part of our night.
Elizabeth was an excellent patient. She was her usual charming self. She swallowed the pain medication with no problem. She was very calm and relaxed during her physical examination which included checking for broken bones. (I didn’t even think to do that.) She let the doctor inspect her up until she got to her head. Then the crying began. My sweet little two-year-old fought off anyone and everyone who wanted to get near her skull.
Then, the most unpleasant part of the entire evening was the dreaded CAT scan. They took that same sweet little, now wailing, child and literally strapped her down to a board and wrapped her in a lead jacket. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, they took an ace bandage and secured her head to the other end of the board. Yes, I understand (intellectually) that this is all necessary to get a high-quality reading. Nonetheless, my heart was aching for her. She was petrified. I was anxious. We both wanted to be done.
After a short little stay, we were cleared to go home. She had no bleeding in her brain nor had any broken skull pieces (remember that her skull is not completely fussed together yet). We were given some take home instructions of which include not letting her drive or operate large machinery and waking her every four hours. Hence, why she is in our bed. But that does not explain the stinky feet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
June 2010
Four little monkies all lined up in a row!