Sunday, March 30, 2014

Update: What Was Actually The Matter w/My Son

First - I want to thank you all for your prayers and thoughts and for my son.  I'm beyond humbled by the overwhelming response to what was essentially a "dear diary" post.  You guys are amazing.  Seriously amazing.  And I mean that :)

Next - I want to tell you the good news!

A cardiologist at our local childrens hospital confirmed that the chest pain he was having after his hockey games?  Totally not cardiac.  No restriction of activity necessary.  No follow up appointments.  No more deductible charges or copays.  In his beautiful accent and somewhat gruff bedside manner, he reported that it is "not da heart".

I immediately knew what that meant.

Reflux.  He has reflux.

And, while GI stuff is still "stuff"'s nothing he can't get under control with a little dietary modification and a little medication and a little maybe-stop-eating-jalapenos-why-don'tcha.

So today, as we wrapped up the weekend by swinging through our local walmart in search of dress shirts that actually fit for an upcoming trip, I couldn't help but giggle at him the whole time.  He was so carefree.  Smiling.  Laughing at the more trendy clothing on the racks, because he's a very old skool kind of evidenced by his nifty pair of wingtips.  Humming and singing a song that was stuck in his head.

This song:

No wonder he was so carefree :)

There’s no space that His love can’t reach
There’s no place that we can’t find peace
There’s no end to Amazing Grace

Sunday, March 23, 2014

My Son's ER Visit, Sunday Night Gameplans, and Galatians

Last week, immediately following my son's first week back to physical activity (a.k.a. dek hockey game), he started with chest pain and a heart rate that could best be compared to...dub step.  Several hours after his game, he started to feel a little better.  Rather than take him to the hospital, primarily because he was feeling better, I decided to call the doctor first thing in the morning.

She didn't really have much to say except, "take him to the hospital if it happens again, unless you want me to order tests."


This week, immediately following my son's second week back to physical activity (a.k.a. dek hockey game)...the same thing happened.  So I followed the doctor's orders and took him to the hospital.


We've been through so many years of doctor/hospital stuff, he and I.  We had a great conversation about that in the middle of the night as he waited to hear his test results and whether or not he'd be staying.  He really just wanted his bed, but he couldn't yet lay flat without discomfort.  He did say that the gurney was much more comfortable than he thought it would be and turned down offers of warmed blankets and refreshments.  He didn't want to trouble the nurse.

When I looked into his face, he was really just an overgrown version of the toddler who sat very still on each hospital gurney and doctors' table so many years ago.  His gaze fixed  Gauging whether or not I doubted the medical team, so he'd know if he should doubt them.  Gauging whether or not I looked scared, so he'd know if he should be scared.

Me? Scared?  Nah.  Because the only time I was scared for him was in 1999.  And that's when I found out that God was real.  Before then?  Nope, didn't believe that.

But...because I know that, and because I've told him that story and he knows that, and because we are surrounded by SO MANY friends who focus their prayers and kind thoughts on us, there's no reason to be afraid.

:::Sidebar finished:::

The end result of his hospital visit was...his EKG and xrays came back fine.  We're to follow up this week with doctors, because there is something going on.  They were just ruling out an emergent situation.

So it's Sunday night and I find myself sitting here, working on a game plan for this week.  Ya know, which 'son calls' should be made first over my lunch break.  Will I even bother with the ped, or go straight to old faithful Childrens Hospital.  I'm not one to play.  I think we all know what I'll be doing.  I'm looking over our checkbook.  Taking a peek in the pantry.  Asking the husband if we can make it another week without ordering heating oil.  I look over at my son, knowing how far the Lord has brought him, feeling a sense of absolute peace with whatever may come...and find him staring at his electronic device with a look of sadness on his face.  I ask him what's wrong and he says that his friend is going through a time of sadness, stress, and disappointment.  He explains ways that he just wants to fix it, but knows he can't.  He decides the best thing he can do is pray for his friend and ask God to comfort and bless them in this time of literal "ugh".


Just as so many are doing for him...and he doesn't even know it.

We all battle something, right?  But?  We all have each other.  I thank God for that.

It doesn't mean things will be easy.  It doesn't mean they'll always go the way we want them to.  But it does mean that we can get through it, whatever "it" is.

Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. - Galatians 6:2

Saturday, March 22, 2014

MS = Why I Don't Commit to Stuff

I love serving others.

Serving others and volunteering is a blessing and not just to those on the receiving end.  I think we can all get with that.

But.  I also have an "energy bank".  And over the past-almost-15yrs, I've gotten pretty good at knowing how to "budget" something for which you have no steady income, nor consistent expenses.  What's my secret to managing my energy bank?

There isn't one.  It's day to day.  The only successful management of my energy bank is to do the things I absolutely must do (get up, go to work, come home) and leave the other things to be sorted through after those 3 have been accounted for.

There was a big event planned at my kids' school.  Emails and notices came around weeks ago with bunches of opportunities to smile and socialize and serve and bless others as they went about the itinerary of this great day.  I was chomping at the bit!  Countless times, I began an email to those in charge.  "I can help!"  But, I never actually sent any of them.  It's as if ms froze my index finger and simply would not allow it to click the mouse.  I told myself that...if it was meant to be?  It would be.  I would wake up on game day with at least some energy and tiny measure of strength.  I also told myself I would not feel guilty about it if I didn't.

That's something I've also been working on for the past-almost-15yrs ;)

Today was game day.  I woke up to a beautiful sunrise!  Obnoxious birds, scream singing with elation!  Our horrendous winter has finally given way to a burst of spring!  I had a nice conversation with my husband before he left for work.  I had a nice cup of coffee placed in front of me.

I could do this!!!

When suddenly, and I'm talking pretty suddenly, something like a weighted blanket washed over me.  I picked my coffee mug up, drew it to my mouth, and...just tasted warm liquid.

Ugh.  Looks like today's an "I can't taste stuff" day.

I told myself...that's okay!  I don't need to be able to pass a taste test to go smile and socialize with a bunch of people!  I told myself to go to the shower and wash the blanket off.  After serving at the event, I would come home and take my kids out for breakfast.  Yes!  That's exactly what I would do...


When I got to the top of the stairs, that voice came into my head.  You know what it said..."if you lay down for a couple minutes, you'll feel a lot better."


Four hours later, I woke up to a beautiful, sunny day.  Birds still screaming with elation.  At some point during my slumber, my kids had opened a couple of windows to allow the fresh, spring air in.  And started laundry.  And did the dishes.  And cleaned the kitchen.  And looked at me with smiley faces and said, "Good morning, mom!  Didjya sleep good?"

Yeah.  I did.

"Do you want breakfast?"

Yeah.  I do.  Sure.

My plans = wake up early, go serve at the event, come home, wake my kids, take them to breakfast.

MS's plans = wake up early, punch Tina in the face, send her back to bed, render her day useless.

What really happened = wake up early, get punched in the face, get sent back to bed, wake up to find that I was actually the one being served, give giant hugs to my kids, and spend the rest of this beautiful day with them.

My "energy bank" may be kinda low, but my blessings are innumerable :D