I haven't updated my blog in a while-since March. Basically, I didn't know what to post. Ray peaked under the direct supervision of the doctor in Lubbock, but has steadily declined since returning home. He was spending hours and hours a day while in Lubbock doing therapy and exercises. He doesn't have time like that at home. And let's face it, his disease is progressive, and well, it's progressing. And then, I did have news to post, but needed to get past Gunnar's State Finals and the end of the school year before sharing.
May 14 was Ray's last day to work. His supervisor asked him to get a physical from his physician and to take a week off. We made a mad dash to Enid to see the neurologist, and decided that for Ray's safety and to relieve Baker Hughes of any potential liability, it was time for him to quit working. I have to say, Baker Hughes has been wonderful. They took care of Ray and allowed him to work longer than I ever could have imagined. We will always be grateful for the way they handled Ray's illness.
I'm not sure what our future holds. Right now, a lot of paperwork. It's a little bit overwhelming. We are blessed that Ray has disability insurance and retirement that we can access. I've already started the long, arduous process of applying for Social Security Disability. I fully expect that to take at least a year to go through. Financially, I think we will be okay.
Emotionally, things are harder. I can't decide if it's a blessing or a curse that this has happened at the beginning of summer. On one hand, I'm grateful that I can be here with Ray and help keep him busy and his spirits up. On the other, I'm not used to having Ray here all the time. The boys and I have a routine and we know the way we do things. Now there's Ray to consider, and his idea of how something should be done or handled isn't always the way we've been doing it. My patience wears thin pretty quick too. It's an adjustment for all of us.
We've received more prayers and blessings through this than I ever could have imagined. Please, keep praying.
Monday, June 03, 2013
Sunday, March 03, 2013
The Long Journey Back
I usually put a lot more thought into what I write in these blogs. Life has moved so fast this week, that I really haven't put a lot of thought into this one. Trust me, that's a good thing!!
I got to Lubbock Friday night, a week ago. My family had been feeding me reports of Ray's progress over the last two weeks, but I was incredibly anxious to see it for myself. Especially since Ray wouldn't really acknowledge much progress. Gage noticed changes in Ray's speech pattern even before I did. After Ray had been in Lubbock a week, he told Gunnar, "You have to talk to Dad! His speech is so fluid. He doesn't have to stop and think of the words anymore!" As I talked to Ray over the next week, I noticed that Gage was right. Ray also stopped taking his Namenda that last week. The last time he stopped taking his meds was catastrophic, and I entered into the situation with some trepidation.
The Rettes had a playoff game in Lubbock Friday night, so not long after arriving in Lubbock, we took off for Tech. It was when we got to the arena that I could really see the difference. Ray was walking at a normal speed, and stepping off and on curbs in a normal stride!!! I am used to having to wait for Ray to stop and think before he stepped on or off a curb. And really, I'm usually holding onto him so he doesn't fall when he does it. We walked the ramps instead of the stairs going in, but it was freezing when we left the game, and Ray took the stairs with no problems. I cannot describe to you the elation I felt. I can't even remember the last time Ray could walk like that. Maybe 2004?
I knew that Diet Coke was going to be an issue. And it was. I think Ray really expected me to go get him one when I got there. I didn't. We had a cousin reunion Saturday (minus two), and met with Dr. Danforth Sunday morning (we met early due to the approaching blizzard). The doctor reviewed Ray's diet and exercises with me. Basically, lots of meat, veggies, fruit, and tons of water. Ray should have minimal grains, avoid processed foods and sugars, and ABSOLUTELY NO artificial sweeteners. Dr. Danforth feels that artificial sweeteners aren't good for anybody (I'm sure he's right), but that Ray's body can't process them. He should NEVER have another Diet Coke EVER again. He can have a regular Coke occasionally, but not diet.
I don't know what Ray expected to hear at the doctor's office, but it wasn't that. He was furious. As we left, he demanded I take him to get a Diet Coke. I refused. It got ugly. When we left for Booker, I was almost hysterical from sadness and frustration. For some reason, as soon as we got in the car to leave, Ray calmed down. We stopped at Chili's in Plainview for a late lunch. Ray ate chicken fajitas with no tortillas and water. He's been home a week today, and still hasn't had a Diet Coke. He eats what he is supposed to eat, avoids what he is supposed to avoid (even when everyone else is eating it), drinks his water, takes his supplements, and does his exercises. He finally admitted to me that he could feel and see the difference. I knew this had to be the case. Why else would he be so committed to jumping through all these hoops if he didn't think they were working?
When we got home, we were snowed in until Wednesday. Ray got out of the car Wednesday morning to go into work and Gunnar said, "I don't think Dad is walking any better. I can't see the difference." Of course, we were all walking pretty gingerly across the ice and snow. A lot of melting occurred during the day Wednesday, and when we went to pick Ray up, he stepped off the curb and walked right to us. I'd seen it at Tech, but watching Gunnar's reactions was priceless. That smile was worth the time, money, and heartache of the last few weeks.
Tonight we will drop Ray's pickup off at the mechanic's shop for some repairs, and when it comes out, he'll be driving it! This is going to be wonderful for all of us. The biggie is that it will be a huge boost to Ray's confidence and self-esteem, but it's going to make life for me and the boys much more pleasant too. We won't all be sitting around Perryton every afternoon, or my Dad won't have to make a trip over to get them. Our quality of life is going to improve a lot!!!
Again, I can't thank everyone enough for all the things that have been done for us. The prayers are working, so please keep praying. This isn't a cure, just a lifestyle to increase the quality (and hopefully quantity) of Ray's life. We will be going back to Lubbock once or twice a month, maybe forever, but as far as we can tell, it's completely worth it! The journey we've been through so that Ray could regain some of his health has been a long and stressful one for all of us. We've sought answers in places we never expected, and found answers in places we never expected. And been helped along our path in ways we never expected. We are so blessed, and God is so good.
I got to Lubbock Friday night, a week ago. My family had been feeding me reports of Ray's progress over the last two weeks, but I was incredibly anxious to see it for myself. Especially since Ray wouldn't really acknowledge much progress. Gage noticed changes in Ray's speech pattern even before I did. After Ray had been in Lubbock a week, he told Gunnar, "You have to talk to Dad! His speech is so fluid. He doesn't have to stop and think of the words anymore!" As I talked to Ray over the next week, I noticed that Gage was right. Ray also stopped taking his Namenda that last week. The last time he stopped taking his meds was catastrophic, and I entered into the situation with some trepidation.
The Rettes had a playoff game in Lubbock Friday night, so not long after arriving in Lubbock, we took off for Tech. It was when we got to the arena that I could really see the difference. Ray was walking at a normal speed, and stepping off and on curbs in a normal stride!!! I am used to having to wait for Ray to stop and think before he stepped on or off a curb. And really, I'm usually holding onto him so he doesn't fall when he does it. We walked the ramps instead of the stairs going in, but it was freezing when we left the game, and Ray took the stairs with no problems. I cannot describe to you the elation I felt. I can't even remember the last time Ray could walk like that. Maybe 2004?
I knew that Diet Coke was going to be an issue. And it was. I think Ray really expected me to go get him one when I got there. I didn't. We had a cousin reunion Saturday (minus two), and met with Dr. Danforth Sunday morning (we met early due to the approaching blizzard). The doctor reviewed Ray's diet and exercises with me. Basically, lots of meat, veggies, fruit, and tons of water. Ray should have minimal grains, avoid processed foods and sugars, and ABSOLUTELY NO artificial sweeteners. Dr. Danforth feels that artificial sweeteners aren't good for anybody (I'm sure he's right), but that Ray's body can't process them. He should NEVER have another Diet Coke EVER again. He can have a regular Coke occasionally, but not diet.
I don't know what Ray expected to hear at the doctor's office, but it wasn't that. He was furious. As we left, he demanded I take him to get a Diet Coke. I refused. It got ugly. When we left for Booker, I was almost hysterical from sadness and frustration. For some reason, as soon as we got in the car to leave, Ray calmed down. We stopped at Chili's in Plainview for a late lunch. Ray ate chicken fajitas with no tortillas and water. He's been home a week today, and still hasn't had a Diet Coke. He eats what he is supposed to eat, avoids what he is supposed to avoid (even when everyone else is eating it), drinks his water, takes his supplements, and does his exercises. He finally admitted to me that he could feel and see the difference. I knew this had to be the case. Why else would he be so committed to jumping through all these hoops if he didn't think they were working?
When we got home, we were snowed in until Wednesday. Ray got out of the car Wednesday morning to go into work and Gunnar said, "I don't think Dad is walking any better. I can't see the difference." Of course, we were all walking pretty gingerly across the ice and snow. A lot of melting occurred during the day Wednesday, and when we went to pick Ray up, he stepped off the curb and walked right to us. I'd seen it at Tech, but watching Gunnar's reactions was priceless. That smile was worth the time, money, and heartache of the last few weeks.
Tonight we will drop Ray's pickup off at the mechanic's shop for some repairs, and when it comes out, he'll be driving it! This is going to be wonderful for all of us. The biggie is that it will be a huge boost to Ray's confidence and self-esteem, but it's going to make life for me and the boys much more pleasant too. We won't all be sitting around Perryton every afternoon, or my Dad won't have to make a trip over to get them. Our quality of life is going to improve a lot!!!
Again, I can't thank everyone enough for all the things that have been done for us. The prayers are working, so please keep praying. This isn't a cure, just a lifestyle to increase the quality (and hopefully quantity) of Ray's life. We will be going back to Lubbock once or twice a month, maybe forever, but as far as we can tell, it's completely worth it! The journey we've been through so that Ray could regain some of his health has been a long and stressful one for all of us. We've sought answers in places we never expected, and found answers in places we never expected. And been helped along our path in ways we never expected. We are so blessed, and God is so good.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
The Smallest Ray of Hope
Disclaimer: If you think we've made a poor decision or that we have sought a "quack" for treatment, please keep those opinions to yourself. I'm not trying to be rude, we just can't handle any negative thoughts, opinions, or people right now.
For months we've lived in darkness. Negativity and hopelessness dogged us at every turn. We spent our time divided between existing and preparing for the bleakest of futures. A future with Ray confined to a wheelchair, unable to speak or swallow, or even rationalize, was the best we could hope for. A future without Ray, the worst. Neither fits in to what is "fair".
We went to Tech in January for a second opinion. I guess I didn't blog about that. There was really nothing to say. Dr. Wilms is a fantastic guy, and obviously has a great heart. When he sat down with us to tell us that, unfortunately, he agrees with our physicians and that there was nothing that could be done for Ray, I really thought he was going to cry. I imagine Dr. Wilms is about Ray's age, and he has young daughters. Maybe it hit a little too close to home. It's odd to feel you should be consoling your doctor. I hate to sound callused, but Ray and I have heard it so many times, we're used to it. He did a blood test to check for vitamin E deficiencies, which came back normal, and scheduled a lumbar puncture (a.k.a. spinal tap) for February 7.
Just before our visit last week, my uncle called me. He and my aunt live in Lubbock, and since we were going to be there anyways, he wanted us to consider seeing a doctor that was a little different, but seemed to get results. At this point, I figured we didn't really have a lot to left to lose. We're going to meet our deductible this year one way or another, and it didn't seem ridiculous to meet it actually seeking treatment as opposed to getting more MRI's that tell us Ray is getting worse. Which we know without the MRI. After Ray's lumbar puncture at Tech, we met with Dr. Danforth. He's a chiropractor that practices alternative medicine. I promised my kids we would try "everything" to save their dad. He falls under that scope. So after Ray's lumbar puncture at Tech, we grabbed some lunch and some rest before heading to Dr. Danforth's office.
Two-and-a-half hours later, we left. Dr. Danforth was with us for most of that time - and Ray was picking up his feet when he walked out of the office (he's shuffled for years). The doctor gave us a lot of information in that "small" amount of time, and it really took me a few days to process it all. Basically, he feels that instead of treating Ray like an Alzheimer's patient, we should be treating him like a stroke patient. He explained women recover from strokes quicker than men because they build "program centers" or information on both sides of their brain, and in more than one place. Men are more likely to store it on one side, and in one place. Dr. Danforth never promised a cure, or even a viable treatment, but he promised to try. Which is more than we've gotten from any other doctor.
The best way I can explain it, he's using intensive physical therapy and nutrition (and some other odd things I just don't know how to explain...and you'd think I was weird if I succeeded) to help Ray's muscles and nervous system "remember" or "relearn" how to work. He has Ray doing exercises and stretching muscles. Ray is on a sugar control diet with no caffeine or artificial sweeteners (no Diet Coke for Ray!!), no grains, rare steak, veggies, and lots of water. I'm sort of surprised he hasn't asked Ray to give up Copenhagen, but maybe he knows that would be asking one thing too many. The diet isn't forever or Ray might throw the gauntlet down at that too.
Ray will see Dr. Danforth four times a day for all of this week, and will stay down there next week also though I don't know how many appointments he will have each day. Pat and Harold (my aunt and uncle) are taking great care of him and driving him to appointments. I'm at home taking care of both sets of my kids (my boys and my students), and taking some time to relax and recuperate myself. It's amazing how well I've been able to sleep since I got home Monday night. It's like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. I know this isn't a cure. I know we will still lose Ray eventually. But I have hope again. Hope that we still have more time together while Ray has a better quality of life. That smallest ray of hope has illuminated my entire world again. Even if it's dashed, I know that we tried.
I have one specific prayer request. Please pray this works. Please pray that Ray's quality of life improves. Please pray that he regains the ability to drive. Even if it's not in the next two weeks, but soon. It seems selfish and trivial, but considering where we live, the ability to drive gives us freedom, the ability to share tasks, and more time for each other and our kids. Also, please pray for our family, friends, co-workers, and our entire support system. We have been helped by so many people in so many different ways. Not just financially, but emotionally, spiritually, and with all sorts of daily tasks, our kids, our jobs, and the tons of prayers that are said for us. There are so many people praying for us that we know we are being prayed for constantly. The generosity of friends, family, and even complete strangers is more than my mind can grasp. There are too many blessings to count.
For months we've lived in darkness. Negativity and hopelessness dogged us at every turn. We spent our time divided between existing and preparing for the bleakest of futures. A future with Ray confined to a wheelchair, unable to speak or swallow, or even rationalize, was the best we could hope for. A future without Ray, the worst. Neither fits in to what is "fair".
We went to Tech in January for a second opinion. I guess I didn't blog about that. There was really nothing to say. Dr. Wilms is a fantastic guy, and obviously has a great heart. When he sat down with us to tell us that, unfortunately, he agrees with our physicians and that there was nothing that could be done for Ray, I really thought he was going to cry. I imagine Dr. Wilms is about Ray's age, and he has young daughters. Maybe it hit a little too close to home. It's odd to feel you should be consoling your doctor. I hate to sound callused, but Ray and I have heard it so many times, we're used to it. He did a blood test to check for vitamin E deficiencies, which came back normal, and scheduled a lumbar puncture (a.k.a. spinal tap) for February 7.
Just before our visit last week, my uncle called me. He and my aunt live in Lubbock, and since we were going to be there anyways, he wanted us to consider seeing a doctor that was a little different, but seemed to get results. At this point, I figured we didn't really have a lot to left to lose. We're going to meet our deductible this year one way or another, and it didn't seem ridiculous to meet it actually seeking treatment as opposed to getting more MRI's that tell us Ray is getting worse. Which we know without the MRI. After Ray's lumbar puncture at Tech, we met with Dr. Danforth. He's a chiropractor that practices alternative medicine. I promised my kids we would try "everything" to save their dad. He falls under that scope. So after Ray's lumbar puncture at Tech, we grabbed some lunch and some rest before heading to Dr. Danforth's office.
Two-and-a-half hours later, we left. Dr. Danforth was with us for most of that time - and Ray was picking up his feet when he walked out of the office (he's shuffled for years). The doctor gave us a lot of information in that "small" amount of time, and it really took me a few days to process it all. Basically, he feels that instead of treating Ray like an Alzheimer's patient, we should be treating him like a stroke patient. He explained women recover from strokes quicker than men because they build "program centers" or information on both sides of their brain, and in more than one place. Men are more likely to store it on one side, and in one place. Dr. Danforth never promised a cure, or even a viable treatment, but he promised to try. Which is more than we've gotten from any other doctor.
The best way I can explain it, he's using intensive physical therapy and nutrition (and some other odd things I just don't know how to explain...and you'd think I was weird if I succeeded) to help Ray's muscles and nervous system "remember" or "relearn" how to work. He has Ray doing exercises and stretching muscles. Ray is on a sugar control diet with no caffeine or artificial sweeteners (no Diet Coke for Ray!!), no grains, rare steak, veggies, and lots of water. I'm sort of surprised he hasn't asked Ray to give up Copenhagen, but maybe he knows that would be asking one thing too many. The diet isn't forever or Ray might throw the gauntlet down at that too.
Ray will see Dr. Danforth four times a day for all of this week, and will stay down there next week also though I don't know how many appointments he will have each day. Pat and Harold (my aunt and uncle) are taking great care of him and driving him to appointments. I'm at home taking care of both sets of my kids (my boys and my students), and taking some time to relax and recuperate myself. It's amazing how well I've been able to sleep since I got home Monday night. It's like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. I know this isn't a cure. I know we will still lose Ray eventually. But I have hope again. Hope that we still have more time together while Ray has a better quality of life. That smallest ray of hope has illuminated my entire world again. Even if it's dashed, I know that we tried.
I have one specific prayer request. Please pray this works. Please pray that Ray's quality of life improves. Please pray that he regains the ability to drive. Even if it's not in the next two weeks, but soon. It seems selfish and trivial, but considering where we live, the ability to drive gives us freedom, the ability to share tasks, and more time for each other and our kids. Also, please pray for our family, friends, co-workers, and our entire support system. We have been helped by so many people in so many different ways. Not just financially, but emotionally, spiritually, and with all sorts of daily tasks, our kids, our jobs, and the tons of prayers that are said for us. There are so many people praying for us that we know we are being prayed for constantly. The generosity of friends, family, and even complete strangers is more than my mind can grasp. There are too many blessings to count.
Monday, December 31, 2012
2012: Barely Remembered
It's New Year's Eve, and I have very mixed feelings about the end of this year and the beginning of a new one. This year hasn't been particularly wonderful. It's been almost exactly a year since we started facing Ray's medical issues head on. Talk about a damper of a year. On the other hand, I doubt we see any possible medical improvements in the next year, so it's kind of hard to say, "The last year was awful, bring on the new." There's a good chance it will be worse. Really, I shouldn't say 2012 was horrible. Good things happened. Gage won a saddle, I teach the World's Greatest Eighth Graders, well, I'm sure there are others....
Really, I feel like I was absent for most of the year. I didn't understand why we were watching Dick Clark's Top 30 because I forgot he died. And Whitney Houston. The Olympics were this year? I love the Olympics. I probably don't remember them because I didn't watch them. I'm beginning to wonder what else I missed.
I started working on my "to read" list over Christmas Break. It's horribly out of date. I'll never be able to read everything I want to read. I don't have time to read and these crazy authors just keep writing!!! Until the break, I haven't read in...a year? This is the woman that reads a book a day. Or I used to read a book a day. I'm still able to read a book a day, I just don't have time to read a book a day. Of all the things in my life that have changed, this might be one that I mourn the most. Yes, that is incredibly selfish. But, I love to read. It's a complete escape. I come up from a book, and wonder why I'm sitting on the cold floor with my Kindle plugged into the wall (it's because I can read longer than the battery lasts), so disoriented that I can't recognize my room because wasn't I just in the arena with Katniss? Anyway, who wouldn't want to escape my life on occasion? I just don't have time for it.
Maybe because I put down the books, but more likely, because I spent a year watching Ray deteriorate, the last year has given my life new focus and meaning. I don't really wonder, "What's my purpose?" I know my purpose. I was meant to be a teacher. Not to sound egotistical, but I'm pretty good at it. And I love it. I'm supposed to take care of Ray and the boys, and hold my little family together for as long as possible. I'm not so naive to believe that God has let me in on everything that he has in store for my life, but at least for now, I have a direction to travel.
Since time together has become more and more precious to us, we made Christmas break about that. It was very low-key and laid-back. I spent a fraction of the money I normally spend. There were no special plans (just us at home), a few favorite foods (no big meal), with a few favorite movies. And it was PERFECT!! You know that horrible let-down of a feeling that comes after Christmas because it wasn't all that it was supposed to be? Yeah, I almost always get that feeling. Not this year though, because this year it was FINALLY was it was supposed to be. Time. Together. Relaxing, laughing, playing. Easy.
And so I close the year, and my self-indulgent post, with less tension, stress, and expectations. Even though 2013 may be harder, I feel better prepared, and that makes me feel...hopeful? Yes, we'll go for hopeful.
Happy New Year!
Really, I feel like I was absent for most of the year. I didn't understand why we were watching Dick Clark's Top 30 because I forgot he died. And Whitney Houston. The Olympics were this year? I love the Olympics. I probably don't remember them because I didn't watch them. I'm beginning to wonder what else I missed.
I started working on my "to read" list over Christmas Break. It's horribly out of date. I'll never be able to read everything I want to read. I don't have time to read and these crazy authors just keep writing!!! Until the break, I haven't read in...a year? This is the woman that reads a book a day. Or I used to read a book a day. I'm still able to read a book a day, I just don't have time to read a book a day. Of all the things in my life that have changed, this might be one that I mourn the most. Yes, that is incredibly selfish. But, I love to read. It's a complete escape. I come up from a book, and wonder why I'm sitting on the cold floor with my Kindle plugged into the wall (it's because I can read longer than the battery lasts), so disoriented that I can't recognize my room because wasn't I just in the arena with Katniss? Anyway, who wouldn't want to escape my life on occasion? I just don't have time for it.
Maybe because I put down the books, but more likely, because I spent a year watching Ray deteriorate, the last year has given my life new focus and meaning. I don't really wonder, "What's my purpose?" I know my purpose. I was meant to be a teacher. Not to sound egotistical, but I'm pretty good at it. And I love it. I'm supposed to take care of Ray and the boys, and hold my little family together for as long as possible. I'm not so naive to believe that God has let me in on everything that he has in store for my life, but at least for now, I have a direction to travel.
Since time together has become more and more precious to us, we made Christmas break about that. It was very low-key and laid-back. I spent a fraction of the money I normally spend. There were no special plans (just us at home), a few favorite foods (no big meal), with a few favorite movies. And it was PERFECT!! You know that horrible let-down of a feeling that comes after Christmas because it wasn't all that it was supposed to be? Yeah, I almost always get that feeling. Not this year though, because this year it was FINALLY was it was supposed to be. Time. Together. Relaxing, laughing, playing. Easy.
And so I close the year, and my self-indulgent post, with less tension, stress, and expectations. Even though 2013 may be harder, I feel better prepared, and that makes me feel...hopeful? Yes, we'll go for hopeful.
Happy New Year!
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Stepping Stones
It seems like time is just slipping through my fingers. Ray is still hanging in there, but each day brings a new loss of something. Or maybe just a new realization of something that I didn't realize was lost. Some days bring new irrational and unexplained behaviors. As Ray deteriorates, I see things from different perspectives. I try to see things from his perspective, and fail miserably. I fail him miserably every day. God has continually tried to teach me patience, and I continually fail to learn. I'm constantly trying to remind, restrain, guide, and comfort Ray with a loving heart, but I'm tired and frustrated too. My temper flares and I bark orders at him, or yell at him. It reminds me of another place and another time, and a road I don't want to travel again, but I'm pretty sure God has put me there anyway.
My Pud (grandmother) had Alzheimer's. I don't know if that was ever the official diagnosis or not, but for the sake of discussion, that's what I'm calling it. I was incredibly close to Pud. I spent as much time with my grandparents as possible, even up into my college days. Summers, holidays, spring break, any time I wasn't in school, I was at the Farm. I watched Pud's decline over my lifetime, and the way Granddad took care of her. I can't really describe it. How do you describe love in real life form? Because love was all I saw. There were certainly screams and cries of frustration. I even saw Granddad yell at Pud. It hurt to watch it, but I knew it didn't diminish his love for her. His love was so deep and so real, it was killing him to watch her suffer, to watch her turn into a different person. Granddad's devotion to Pud was unending and unquestionable. It was the kind of stuff that a great writer could turn into a beautiful love story with the horribly sad ending that leaves you aching inside. Maybe that's why I'm not into romantic novels or movies. I watched the world's greatest love story unfold before my eyes. I didn't need Tinseltown's dopey version of a romance to teach anything about love.
Over the last couple of weeks I have started to see a pattern. Little things that Ray does that are reminiscent of Pud's behaviors so many years ago. Little things that I do (or maybe don't do), that I watched my Granddad struggle with through Pud's illness. I don't want to go down this road again. I know where it leads. There is a train wreck at the end. Carnage, mutilation, pain. My mom watched her parents struggle through this, now she has to watch us too? And my boys. They are along for the road this time. How is this fair?!?! Why would God put us here again?!
And then I remember my Bible, and the words God gives us to help us through times like these. He tells me that he will take everything and make it for good. Sometimes that's hard to comprehend in the moment when you feel like everything you touch is falling apart and there is nothing good left in the world. As I watch history repeat itself though, I sometimes think I get a glimpse of why God chose me for this battle. I've seen it fought. I know that death is the winner, as it is in all battles, but God gave me a beautiful example of how to live for him each day, and how to love my husband and children through it all. It's a stepping stone to get me across to the other side. I will never live up to the example that Granddad set for me, but I try.
I can't explain why my boys are in this. My dad lost his father at a young age too. Maybe his loss is the stepping stone Gunnar and Gage need to get them through to the other side. Like us, the boys have good days and bad. I think Gage struggles daily. Gunnar is a teenager, so I rarely know everything (sometimes I think I don't know anything) that is going on with him. Bimbo is his confidante, but he also has these friends... I can't even describe the depth of my appreciation for them. They are stunning. They are mature, and wise, and good. It's humbling that they can take care of him when I can't. It's also reassuring to know he's not alone. There was an incident in a class yesterday. Gunnar fell apart, and they prayed with him. Right there on the stage, in the middle of theater class, they went to him and prayed. That stepping stone will carry us both a long ways.
Over the last couple of weeks I have started to see a pattern. Little things that Ray does that are reminiscent of Pud's behaviors so many years ago. Little things that I do (or maybe don't do), that I watched my Granddad struggle with through Pud's illness. I don't want to go down this road again. I know where it leads. There is a train wreck at the end. Carnage, mutilation, pain. My mom watched her parents struggle through this, now she has to watch us too? And my boys. They are along for the road this time. How is this fair?!?! Why would God put us here again?!
And then I remember my Bible, and the words God gives us to help us through times like these. He tells me that he will take everything and make it for good. Sometimes that's hard to comprehend in the moment when you feel like everything you touch is falling apart and there is nothing good left in the world. As I watch history repeat itself though, I sometimes think I get a glimpse of why God chose me for this battle. I've seen it fought. I know that death is the winner, as it is in all battles, but God gave me a beautiful example of how to live for him each day, and how to love my husband and children through it all. It's a stepping stone to get me across to the other side. I will never live up to the example that Granddad set for me, but I try.
I can't explain why my boys are in this. My dad lost his father at a young age too. Maybe his loss is the stepping stone Gunnar and Gage need to get them through to the other side. Like us, the boys have good days and bad. I think Gage struggles daily. Gunnar is a teenager, so I rarely know everything (sometimes I think I don't know anything) that is going on with him. Bimbo is his confidante, but he also has these friends... I can't even describe the depth of my appreciation for them. They are stunning. They are mature, and wise, and good. It's humbling that they can take care of him when I can't. It's also reassuring to know he's not alone. There was an incident in a class yesterday. Gunnar fell apart, and they prayed with him. Right there on the stage, in the middle of theater class, they went to him and prayed. That stepping stone will carry us both a long ways.
Monday, November 12, 2012
The Suit Makes the Man...or the Memories of Him
I have spent the last two weeks reorganizing, cleaning, and working on the house with the help of my aunt. We are so blessed to have the help. I'm not much of a housekeeper anyway, and the last several months have been complete chaos. In addition to that, my flooring needed replaced, closets needed cleaned out, and everything needed to be de-junked. We've filled a stock trailer - twice - with an assortment of carpet, furniture, and personal belongings. Yesterday we filled ten 55-gallon garbage bags with clothes for the Crisis Center. It's a little bit insane that we've managed to accumulate so much stuff. Okay, really insane.
Ray constantly teases me about being a hoarder. He's only half teasing. However, Ray tends to hang on to old junk too. He just thinks his stuff is worth saving. The closet is the worst. Over the last 15 years we've had this exact conversation dozens of times:
Ray: Why are you throwing that out?! That's a (nice/lucky/inherited) shirt!
Ray constantly teases me about being a hoarder. He's only half teasing. However, Ray tends to hang on to old junk too. He just thinks his stuff is worth saving. The closet is the worst. Over the last 15 years we've had this exact conversation dozens of times:
Ray: Why are you throwing that out?! That's a (nice/lucky/inherited) shirt!
Me: Seriously?! It went out of style (5/10/15) years ago, and it's (stained/holey/threadbare).
I used to argue. I usually lost. Then I started sticking the shirt back in the closet and throwing it away when it came back through the laundry. Ray wised up and stopped wearing the (nice/lucky/inherited) shirts. Instead, they've been taking up space in the closet. It's not that Ray really needs the closet space, but I could move some of my stuff to his closet if there were extra space. The main problem is that when it is important that one of those items stay in the closet, I look up and Ray is wearing one of the those (nice/lucky/inherited) shirts - as we are walking out the door - to go somewhere nice.
So, yesterday we tackled the closets. It was kind of interesting at first. Ray's closet covered all 15 years of our marriage. I remember buying many of the items for Ray or trips or outings when he was wearing a particular item, or past careers when he wore ties. At some point, I started feeling like I was throwing out clothing for someone that was gone. If you didn't know Ray 10 years ago, he was a big man. If you haven't seen him in a few years, he's not anymore. It was alarming to see the size of clothes drop as I went through the stacks: x-large to large, then large to medium, and to realize that many of those mediums just hang on his frame. It was like watching him waste away before my eyes.
As I neared the bottom of the stack, I saw the new fly-fishing vest Ray's dad gave him last Spring still sporting the tags. As moved it into the keep pile, I noticed that it felt heavy. Looking into the pockets, I found a set of flies, scissors, line, reels, and other miscellaneous things fishermen need. It was such a sweet and thoughtful gift. Ray loves the outdoors. He loves to fish. He loves and misses New Mexico and all the hunting and fishing it had to offer. But looking at that vest, I know Ray is probably close to done with things of that nature. The vest an incredible gift that he will probably never get to use. There won't be many more fishing trips, and I don't think there will ever be anymore fly-fishing trips. I can't imagine trying to get Ray to a stream or river, and if we did, I don't think he could stand on the rocks or in the water.
I think the buildup of the week got to me. I sat and cried over Ray's clothes. Clothes he wore and can't wear again. Clothes he will never get the opportunity to wear. It seems like such a silly little thing to cry over. As I considered it though, clothes are personal. We spend a lot of time picking them out - or not. Either way, the process of how and what we choose to put on describes us. Admit it, we almost all have at least one article of clothing that we can't bare to send to goodwill. We keep wedding dresses and baby coming-home outfits to remind us of our best days. We keep suits from grandfathers and fathers that have passed to remind us of the men that provided for us and protected us. Yesterday I realized that everyday clothes can bring up memories that are just as sweet. Even that fishing vest that may never be worn reminded me of the love a father has for his son.
It was tempting to hang on to some things for the memories, but most I gave away. The fishing vest stayed because I hope that Ray will get to use it. The suit my parents bought Ray when he graduated from college stayed so that I can pass it on to the boys. I even kept a few raggedy old t-shirts. I figure that Ray keeps them because they are comfortable. And at this point, comfort is probably what Ray wants most from his clothes.
So, yesterday we tackled the closets. It was kind of interesting at first. Ray's closet covered all 15 years of our marriage. I remember buying many of the items for Ray or trips or outings when he was wearing a particular item, or past careers when he wore ties. At some point, I started feeling like I was throwing out clothing for someone that was gone. If you didn't know Ray 10 years ago, he was a big man. If you haven't seen him in a few years, he's not anymore. It was alarming to see the size of clothes drop as I went through the stacks: x-large to large, then large to medium, and to realize that many of those mediums just hang on his frame. It was like watching him waste away before my eyes.
As I neared the bottom of the stack, I saw the new fly-fishing vest Ray's dad gave him last Spring still sporting the tags. As moved it into the keep pile, I noticed that it felt heavy. Looking into the pockets, I found a set of flies, scissors, line, reels, and other miscellaneous things fishermen need. It was such a sweet and thoughtful gift. Ray loves the outdoors. He loves to fish. He loves and misses New Mexico and all the hunting and fishing it had to offer. But looking at that vest, I know Ray is probably close to done with things of that nature. The vest an incredible gift that he will probably never get to use. There won't be many more fishing trips, and I don't think there will ever be anymore fly-fishing trips. I can't imagine trying to get Ray to a stream or river, and if we did, I don't think he could stand on the rocks or in the water.
I think the buildup of the week got to me. I sat and cried over Ray's clothes. Clothes he wore and can't wear again. Clothes he will never get the opportunity to wear. It seems like such a silly little thing to cry over. As I considered it though, clothes are personal. We spend a lot of time picking them out - or not. Either way, the process of how and what we choose to put on describes us. Admit it, we almost all have at least one article of clothing that we can't bare to send to goodwill. We keep wedding dresses and baby coming-home outfits to remind us of our best days. We keep suits from grandfathers and fathers that have passed to remind us of the men that provided for us and protected us. Yesterday I realized that everyday clothes can bring up memories that are just as sweet. Even that fishing vest that may never be worn reminded me of the love a father has for his son.
It was tempting to hang on to some things for the memories, but most I gave away. The fishing vest stayed because I hope that Ray will get to use it. The suit my parents bought Ray when he graduated from college stayed so that I can pass it on to the boys. I even kept a few raggedy old t-shirts. I figure that Ray keeps them because they are comfortable. And at this point, comfort is probably what Ray wants most from his clothes.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Back on Track
See to it, brothers and sisters, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called "Today," so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness. - Hebrews 3:12-13
Last week was CRAZY!! Really. Even though Ray started a new medication on Sunday, I went into the week still reeling from the irrationality of the weekend. I didn't get Gage to one of his soccer games because I was so overwhelmed, I just forgot. Gunnar had an argument with his very best friends at lunch, and I reprimanded Gunnar before getting the whole story. Turns out, Gunnar was innocent. THAT made me feel like 'Mom of the Year'. Gunnar's horse rolled over him, so I spent Tuesday night in the ER, and then most of the night waking him up and checking on him (he had a concussion). Of course, I didn't go to work Wednesday, but didn't get anything accomplished at home because I was catching up on the sleep I missed Tuesday night. I sent Gunnar back to school Thursday and that was a HUGE mistake. As it turns out, he was still having memory loss. Mom and Dad left for Hobbs on Thursday and took Gage with them, so that left me taking care of Ray, Gunnar, and all the livestock. I didn't send Gunnar to school on Friday, but I went to work. I spent Friday worried about him. I think it was late Thursday before the seriousness of Gunnar's accident really sank in. Gunnar made the All-Region Choir, but had to miss the concert Saturday because of his concussion. I cancelled my trip to Hobbs for Kip and Callie's birthday for that concert, and ended up missing both. I spent most of the week crying. Literally. I don't how I managed to NOT break down in the middle of class, but I pulled it off. Barely.
It's amazing the difference a couple of days can make. I divided my time this weekend between sleeping and working on school stuff. I didn't clean my house, but my sanity is intact. Gunnar is MUCH better. He did his math this morning, and described it as "easy". Thursday night it was "impossible". Ray's new medication has kicked in and he is "normal" again. Of course, I have now seen where this road leads, and let me just say, it is a scary, scary place. I'm thankful that I didn't go to New Mexico. Kip and Callie had the flu and as exhausted as I have been, I'm pretty much guaranteed to catch anything. I certainly don't have time for the flu. And because Gunnar couldn't go to the concert, we both got another day to recuperate.
Last week was a hard week, but I survived. I am incredibly blessed to have the most amazing friends. They sat with Gunnar and me in the ER Tuesday night, they had dinner on my doorstep (literally) when we got home from the ER, they helped me set up labs, and let me whine and cry about how exhausted and overwhelmed I felt. I was given refuge in a home to get away from my classroom. My boss took a huge load of responsibility off of me and put it back where it belonged. I had given it to myself, but she knew it was time for me to let it go, and didn't make me feel the least bit guilty about unloading it.
I cannot tell you how hopeful I am about the new week. I cannot describe the difference in Ray when he is on medication and when he isn't. It's not just that his thinking is different. His entire personality changes when he isn't taking it. He just walked in and told me I can't quit my job to write a blog (I think it's from the Oscar Meyer Deli meat commercial). It's little, but it makes my heart sing. There he is. The real Ray. Witty and playful. Then he sat down and pet the chihuahua he never wanted, but now doesn't deny he loves. And then he headed off to clean up the supper mess because he knows I'm tired.
And I guess that's it. I just wanted everyone to know that the new medication seems to be working, and things are looking up again for a while. I'm off to help Ray finish up the kitchen!
Last week was CRAZY!! Really. Even though Ray started a new medication on Sunday, I went into the week still reeling from the irrationality of the weekend. I didn't get Gage to one of his soccer games because I was so overwhelmed, I just forgot. Gunnar had an argument with his very best friends at lunch, and I reprimanded Gunnar before getting the whole story. Turns out, Gunnar was innocent. THAT made me feel like 'Mom of the Year'. Gunnar's horse rolled over him, so I spent Tuesday night in the ER, and then most of the night waking him up and checking on him (he had a concussion). Of course, I didn't go to work Wednesday, but didn't get anything accomplished at home because I was catching up on the sleep I missed Tuesday night. I sent Gunnar back to school Thursday and that was a HUGE mistake. As it turns out, he was still having memory loss. Mom and Dad left for Hobbs on Thursday and took Gage with them, so that left me taking care of Ray, Gunnar, and all the livestock. I didn't send Gunnar to school on Friday, but I went to work. I spent Friday worried about him. I think it was late Thursday before the seriousness of Gunnar's accident really sank in. Gunnar made the All-Region Choir, but had to miss the concert Saturday because of his concussion. I cancelled my trip to Hobbs for Kip and Callie's birthday for that concert, and ended up missing both. I spent most of the week crying. Literally. I don't how I managed to NOT break down in the middle of class, but I pulled it off. Barely.
It's amazing the difference a couple of days can make. I divided my time this weekend between sleeping and working on school stuff. I didn't clean my house, but my sanity is intact. Gunnar is MUCH better. He did his math this morning, and described it as "easy". Thursday night it was "impossible". Ray's new medication has kicked in and he is "normal" again. Of course, I have now seen where this road leads, and let me just say, it is a scary, scary place. I'm thankful that I didn't go to New Mexico. Kip and Callie had the flu and as exhausted as I have been, I'm pretty much guaranteed to catch anything. I certainly don't have time for the flu. And because Gunnar couldn't go to the concert, we both got another day to recuperate.
Last week was a hard week, but I survived. I am incredibly blessed to have the most amazing friends. They sat with Gunnar and me in the ER Tuesday night, they had dinner on my doorstep (literally) when we got home from the ER, they helped me set up labs, and let me whine and cry about how exhausted and overwhelmed I felt. I was given refuge in a home to get away from my classroom. My boss took a huge load of responsibility off of me and put it back where it belonged. I had given it to myself, but she knew it was time for me to let it go, and didn't make me feel the least bit guilty about unloading it.
I cannot tell you how hopeful I am about the new week. I cannot describe the difference in Ray when he is on medication and when he isn't. It's not just that his thinking is different. His entire personality changes when he isn't taking it. He just walked in and told me I can't quit my job to write a blog (I think it's from the Oscar Meyer Deli meat commercial). It's little, but it makes my heart sing. There he is. The real Ray. Witty and playful. Then he sat down and pet the chihuahua he never wanted, but now doesn't deny he loves. And then he headed off to clean up the supper mess because he knows I'm tired.
And I guess that's it. I just wanted everyone to know that the new medication seems to be working, and things are looking up again for a while. I'm off to help Ray finish up the kitchen!
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