Going Under the Knife

How's that for drama? I did actually have some outpatient surgery yesterday. Something akin to uteran maintenance. While it wasn't fun it did provide some humorous moments that I now get to pass along to you, my cyber friends. And if it fixes my problems it will be well worth a day at the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital at 10:00 for my 12:00 D&C, hysteroscopy, and ablation. The check-in process started by signing the obligatory insurance waivers. And yes, I know I can die during any surgical procedure. Thanks for reminding me. I then proceeded to the lab where the phlebotomist took take 4 tubes of blood and then asked me, the person who hadn't had anything to eat or drink for 16 hours, to pee in a cup. Being the compliant person that I am, well, let's just say I made it happen.

Now usually when you leave a urine sample at the doctors office, you leave your donation in something that looks like a two-way medicine cabinet. You open the door on your side, place your specimen cup on the paper towel and once your door is shut a healthcare professional can open the door on their side and do whatever it is that they do with your pee. I like this method. Very discreet and very hands-off. Not so at the hospital. I guess they figure the humiliation of a hospital visit should start early and often. Instead I had to parade my meagerly-filled cup to my pre-op staging area. Once there I didn't know what to do with it so I just sat it on the counter. As soon as the nurse and lab tech entered my area the nurse made quick work of grabbing a glove and using it pot-holder style to hand over my cup. I really think that in this day and age of medical advancements they could come up with a better pee-pee transport system.

With all of the lab work behind me it was now time to don a hospital gown. The nurse took a quick yet sweeping glance at me and grabbed the gown that had been pre-heating under a blanket. She sheepishly said "Um, I'll be back in a minute with a better gown for you." What she really meant was, wait while I go and get a plus-sized gown for the big girl. I didn't mind so much. I am what I am. Not that I in any way advocate being overweight. At some point I guess you learn to laugh, otherwise you'd cry.

My nurse returned promptly with my new and "improved" gown which I dutifully put on placing all of my other clothes in a bag for Don to keep watch over. I was then instructed to climb into the bed with the heated blanket. A heated blanket sounded rather nice at the moment ... until I crawled in. This heated "thing" was made out a fabric that can best be compared to fabric interfacing. It was quilted with large tube-like channels running through it and small holes that blew out warm air. This was a nice feeling for the first 10 minutes or so and then it became just stinkin' hot. Poking my feet out the bottom helped to keep the heat stroke at bay.

Nurse Number Two then came in to take my vitals and put on the blood-pressure tourniquet cuff. Can anyone tell me when did taking one's blood pressure become so darn painful? I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I have a bruise on my arm from having my blood pressure taken. I think every time I heard the automatic pump begin, my pressure probably rose 20 points. I then got the stickers for my heart monitor (which by the way also left some bruising).

Soon Nurse Number One returned to put in my IV but apparently the veins in my hands stayed home yesterday so instead I got an IV in my arm (which by the way left a VERY LARGE bruise). Finally, all the prep was done and Don got to come back to my pre-op staging area. He prayed for me which made me cry and then we laughed about hospital jargon until we were both crying. Phrases like "mild discomfort" and "a small stick followed by slight stinging." What they are really saying is pain like you've been kicked in the gut by a field goal kicker or a piercing pain by a 3 inch needle followed by burning throughout your extremities. Hey, if they can understate the facts, I can exaggerate them!

Finally, we got a visit from the anethesiologist and with it the final blow to my last remaining shred of dignity. Like each healthcare professional before him, Dr. Sleep rattles off a list of questions and conditions. Nope! I replied to all of them, I'm healthy as a horse (excluding my current status as a hospital patient). I must have gotten a little to prideful because he then asks for my weight...with Don right there in the room AGHHHH! I don't believe in keeping secrets from your spouse...except for that one. So in matter of seconds my closest guarded secret was out there, for Don and the world to know. Through 22 years of marriage I've kept him in the dark. But I'm out now and you know what? He still loves me. All *** pounds of me!

So, a final kiss from Don and I was rolled away to the operating room. I almost started crying when they wheeled me in as the memories of having the three big kids via c-section came flooding back. I just kept thinking I can't cry or I'll get all stuffed up and won't be able to breathe in the anesthesia. Within minutes however I was out for good and my next memory was waking up being rolled down a hallway. That was about it.

We were ready to leave the hospital about an hour later. Once at home, Don and Maria took great care of me. My friend, Emily, watched Maria all day (Caroline is in Branson) and another wonderful friend, Leah, brought us a meal. One pain pill at 8:00 and I was off to dreamland. I woke up this morning feeling great. By the way, I just got the call from the Doctor that all of the pathology reports came back fine. Thank you, Lord. All in all it wasn't a bad experience. I'm just glad it's over with and we can get on with the summer.

Simply stated: Beware on nosey anesthesiologists!

The Things We Do For Love...

Finally...after almost two years without a real haircut...the time has come to cut Caroline's hair for Locks of Love. It's seems like we've been measuring her hair every other day to see if it's grown to the mandated 10 inches to be able to donate. And she made it!

Here's the before picture.

and the back. Wow, that's a lot of hair. It had gotten so long and thick that it took both of us to brush it after a shower or the pool.

This is our friend Amy from church making that first brutal cut. Her salon (a very nice one I might add) donates a haircut when you donate your hair to Locks of Love. Thanks Amy!

It took 3 pony tails to cut off that thick mop of hair but it's gone, gone, gone.

Here they are...the beauty and the beauty maker.

And here she is...my sweet Caroline. It's bittersweet to see her looking so beautiful and grown up. It's especially poignant tonight as she officially leaves the children's ministry at church to join big brother Zak with the student ministry.

More important though, than her stylin' new do and her radiant smile is the compassionate, servant's heart that continues to grow inside of this dear child of mine. I can not tell you the number of times that I encouraged her to cut off her hair before she could donate it just because it was too big of a hassle. But nope, she stood firm in her desire to give something of herself to someone less fortunate. I pray that God will continue to grab a hold of this precious child of His and use her in mighty ways.

Simply stated: I love being Caroline's mom!

Hallelujah!

Alex got his haircut!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How sad is it that Alex's haircut is my big news of week? Hmmm, I don't think I want to ponder that thought much longer...makes my life seem...well, a little pathetic.

Simply stated: 'nuf said!

Never say never...

I've learned my lesson and will never say never again (preceeding sentence excluded).

I realized it was time to remove "that word" from my vocabulary when I asked Don, with some urgency, to go buy a trampoline for the girls a few weekends ago. You see, years ago in my once firmly grounded maternal opinions I had said we would never own one. Yet here it is, in all of it's blue and gold glory towering over the weeds and moss grass and shrubbery in our backyard. But the girls love it and it's great exercise.

This isn't the first time I've been bitten in the behind by my use of "that word." When my boys were little I boldy proclaimed that they would never own guns, especially of the BB variety. But there I was on Alex's 13th birthday accompanying him into the store to buy a BB gun with his own money. I remember well the irony of the moment because Alex couldn't actually carry the gun out of the store since he was a minor. Instead his responsible and firearm phobic mother had to schlep the box out to the get-away car. Now both boys have BB guns, potato guns, marshmallow guns and paintball guns. Guns 'r' us!

Education is another area replete with broken promises of never. Back in Maryland where the schools were good and education was important to our politicians (snotty tone intentional), I never saw the need to homeschool or even worse **gasp** pay...for...private...school. Yet here we find ourselves in Arkansas, doing both.

I don't know what, if any, is the lesson in all of this. What I've come to realize is that the use of the word never is a bit egotistical and for the most part excludes God's divine plan for our lives. I'm sure I said I would never move away from my extended family and the east coast, yet here we are living in Little Rock. I know I said we would never have more children after Caroline was born and we took permanent measure to insure we would have the final say on the matter. But somehow God saw fit and found a way to add to our family. I'm so glad His ways are not our ways.

I do know at least one exception to the never say never rule, one that I know God finds pleasing. And that is, I will never leave Don. The marriage covenant is based on never leaving and forever cleaving to one another. What a wonderful design God had for marriage!

It almost seems as though when I say never, God's ears perk up and He smiles and thinks to Himself "we'll just have to see about that!" So instead of "never" I think "whatever" might be the better attitude...one that leaves us open to a blessed and abundant life.

Simply stated: Be careful what you say "never" to!

It's just so sad...

While I was doing my 2:00 a.m. email check and blog stalking, I saw a post that the young daughter of one of our favorite singers, Steven Curtis Chapman, had been killed in a horrible accident at their home. During a day of great family celebration with the recent engagement of the Chapman's oldest daughter and the high school graduation party for one of their teenage sons, their 5 year old daughter was accidentally struck and hit while playing in their driveway by an SUV driven by one of the teenage sons. Their daughter's name was Maria and she was apparently a precious child. She was the Chapman' s youngest daughter and their third daughter adopted from China. Sometimes other peoples tragedies stop you for a moment and other times it causes one great pause. This one has consumed my thoughts today.

Having met Steven Curtis Chapman personally at an adoption conference and having talked to him in great detail about the story of how they come to adopt their Maria, I am even more heartbroken for their loss. Years ago Steven had written a song entitled "Who's Gonna Love Maria" This was long before they met their Maria. Steven graciously autographed a CD for our Maria even before we brought her home. The Chapman's organization also gave us a grant to help pay for our Maria's adoption and so I feel in many ways we have been blessed by a family that we've only met very briefly.

This is a two-fold tragedy now that the Chapman's are dealing with the loss of a beloved daughter and also undoubtedly the grief and guilt of their son. Having sons of similar ages my heart breaks for this dear boy and how his life has been altered. I pray that the faith this family was built on will carry them through the rough days to come.

This is a startling reminder of how quickly the landscape of our lives can change and how every moment is precious. May we not stop praying for this sweet and generous family.

Simply stated: Tell somone you love them tonight.

Sunshine or Quiet

It's Sunday afternoon and Don is sitting outside reading the paper while the girls jump on the trampoline...or jumpoline as Maria calls it. I'm finishing up some Taco Soup to take to community group and I have a tough choice to make. Go outside and enjoy the sunshine or stay inside where it's just me, no one else, all by myself. Tough decision, huh?

Well, we have an hour until community group so maybe I'll split the difference and spend a half an hour inside and half an hour outside. Or maybe I'll clean. So much to do and so little time.

I've decided. My girls will only be jumpin' on the trampoline for a few short years before they're out and about like the boys. I'd better be gettin' outside!

Simply stated: Peace and quiet will come way too soon.

My sweet, sweet girl!

This week is a little crazier than normal for us. It's our last week of Awana which is a lot more work for me and includes an appreciation dinner for our leaders and volunteers as well as an awards ceremony. It basically means that we practically live at church from Monday through Wednesday. Both of the girls have been real troopers so far this week and have blessed me beyond words. Just when I thought these two precious girls of mine couldn't be any sweeter, Caroline proves me wrong. (This story will reveal another one of my "issues" but it's worth telling because it was just too darn sweet.)

We got home around 8:30 p.m. after a long day at church. I know you'll think I'm exagerating but this house is truly a wreck. Every room has the remnants of the projects I've been working on for this week and haven't had time to clean up after. It's been so busy that Caroline simply wrote "food" on the grocery list.

Anyway, I realized that I hadn't made my bed which really bums me out. It just feels gross to get into an unmade bed. Who knows what could have landed there during the course of the day? I left the room to get a phone call and came back to find that Caroline had made my bed for me. I think Caroline really understands me. (I wonder which one of my issues she'll discuss first with her therapist).

I know you read my blog, sweet girl. Your momma loves you and thanks you!

Simply stated: Children are a gift from the Lord!