A Sucky Month

They say bad things come in threes. I usually don't prescribe to superstitions but this past month has been a sucky month.

As you may know, my dad fell off his riding lawnmower and fractured his pelvis.  He was in traction for three weeks, two of which were spent in the worst nursing home I have ever seen.  But they were the only home that would take traction patients after he had to leave the hospital.  

Secondly, I had a car accident.  For the past few months my new psychiatrist had been gradually increasing my anti-anxiety meds.  When my dad had his accident, I couldn't sleep, so I combined that with some old anti-anxiety med that my old psychiatrist had given me to help me sleep when I traveled overseas.  Now I see why they say don't combine meds.  I don't know what happened if I fell asleep or passed out but I wound up in a ditch.  I was OK but my car's engine was flooded and rendered undriveable.

Thirdly, my sister's dog died.  She was their family dog for about ten years, she grew up with my niece.  It was a terrible loss as she helped that family so much through so many troublesome times.  The house is too quiet without her.  She was so friendly to everyone, and just loved attention.

I prayed a lot this month.  I asked for prayer from others, I even posted a prayer on prayerworks through ktis.fm.  I cried a lot too.  I don't like to see my parents getting older.  I don't like to see a beloved pet gone, or a family suffering from her loss.  I don't like causing my family grief because I made a careless and selfish decision that caused me to have an accident.

But I do believe God was with me.  I got off the anti-anxiety meds and quit going to the new psychiatrist.  I already feel back to "normal," at least my normal.  I believe God kept me from getting hurt in my accident, or from hurting anyone else.  That could have ended so badly.  I believe God sent an angel, either a real one or a good Samaritan to get into the back seat of my car to help me to calm down and get out of the car.  I had to go out the back seat as the front of the car was in water.  

We were supposed to go to New York City next week, but after dad's accident, we didn't care about that.  I just wanted my dad to be OK.  And he is.  He is home now, under the watchful and loving care of his wife of almost 55 years.  Their relationship is a testament to me about what marriage is all about: being there for each other through it all.  

Staying at my parent's house, being with their dog, Minnie, helped me in grieving the loss of my beloved cat Chocolate, who died last fall.  Minnie always made me smile, except when she whined in the morning for me to get out of bed.  

So even in all that turmoil, God was real to me.  He never promised an easy life.  He just promised to be there, if I let him.  

I am thankful for that.  I can't do this life on my own. 

All this has reminded me of what I do have, instead of lamenting of what I don't have.  I have my family, my home, and my memories of my loved ones that have passed.  I have a good life.  And I am blessed.

Father's Day

Although I used this quote last year for Father's Day, I like it.   My dad was always there.  

My dad is not a typical man.  He doesn't hunt or fish, doesn't watch or play sports.  The only typical thing is cars.  

But he taught me many lessons that have held up well over the years.  Be honest.  Use common sense.  Be real.  Family is number one.  Do what you enjoy.  Be committed.  Be rational.  Love animals.  Respect the elderly.  Don't flaunt your wealth.  Don't act like you're better than anyone else.  Be humble.  Love and accept your family.  Don't give up.  There's probably a lot more that I am forgetting.  

My dad may not be a typical man, but he is the best dad.  He provided for his family.  He sacrificed his health for his family.  He pushed us to be more than we thought we could be.  He was hard on us when we were kids, but I think he was trying to toughen us, especially me, living in a world that doesn't accept differences.

A month ago my dad fell off his lawnmower and broke his hip.  He was in traction for three weeks, and is now in a transitional care center, trying to regain his strength.  The first week he was in HCMC, an inner city hospital in Minneapolis.  The care was ok, but in the next two weeks he was in an awful transitional care center near there.  Only two places would take traction patients, so we had no choice.  It was a hell hole.  We despaired of him surviving it.  As soon as he was out of traction, my mom got him out of there and into an 100% better care center near home.  

It is hard to watch someone that I depend on so much be in such a sorry state.  I don't like the thought of my parents growing old.  I don't like to see them hurt by people that are supposed to take care of them.  I don't like seeing them in such a helpless position.  

I just love my dad. I respect him, admire him, and am so proud of him.  He is a good man with a good heart.  And I am so blessed to have him as my dad.

Facing Reality

My dad is getting off traction today, and the docs will decide what to do next.  I can't imagine what it was like for him, being immobile for three weeks, having to depend on people he doesn't know.  He is a man that depends on very few, because he trusts very few.  Running a business for so many years you meet a lot of people that make you wonder if this country is going to hell in a hand basket.

I laid on his bed yesterday and cried, just wanting him home, just wanting him the way he was.  Will he be like he was?  Or is he forever changed?  Is our lives forever changed?  When my grandparents died, it wasn't their death that I grieved but what their lives were before they moved out of their little yellow rambler.  I still dream of that house, the basement that my cousin Kris and I used to play in.  I still think of the many holidays we spent there, the many nights of sleeping in the couch, drifting off to sleep with the muted sounds of the television and the little Christmas lights on the little white flocked tree siloutted against the picture window.  That is what I grieved, that those memories would be all that I would have left, for there would be no more holidays in that little yellow house.  

Maybe I am making a mountain out of a molehill, as I tend to do, but I don't like this.  I don't like change.  I don't want to see my parents get old and feeble.  I want them to be forever strong, active, happy, lively.

It's the same feeling I had when Chocolate died.  It wasn't his death that I grieved, but his life, that would no longer be.  No longer would he go for walks, play with his toys, or climb his climber.

I just don't want to lose anymore.  I love my parents too much, I depend on them too much.  There is so much loss in life.  It is hard to love anew, again, for I know that nothing lasts.

I am sorry for such a depressing blog.  Maybe I am ovulating.  Maybe I am tired.  Maybe I am bored. Maybe I miss my home.  I don't like the not knowing.  I just want my dad home.  I just want life to be back to normal.

In Flanders Field

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.