Stick a Fork in Me....

...I'm done.  Granted, this is a little saying borrowed from PW, but I cannot think of any other sentiment that would adequately describe my current state of being.  And if you actually did stick said fork in me, I probably wouldn't bother to protest much.  Maybe a small squeal, a slight quiver of the affected extremity and then I would again lie dormant in my doneness.

Oh, enough with the drama.  Somewhere back in the early part of May, that feeling of having it all together that I somewhat tentatively grasp, began to unravel, and it has been rolling downhill ever since.  I have had plenty to blog about, but just not the time or inclination to get it out there.  I wanted to blog about my Mom's birthday (May 2), Mother's Day, Maren's soccer games, Marissa's viola recital,  Marissa's fantabulous room redo, my 5K training (or lack thereof) and the Tulip Festival.  And maybe on the down side, the fact that my dad was once again in the hospital.  That journey has been harder than expected.  Someday I will write about that again, but not today.

On a lighter note, I think I will just cover all the above in one fell swoop.  So bear with me. 

Mom's Birthday.  Mom turned another year older on May 2.  She spent a large portion of the day assaulted by the clamor and noise of her 8 grandchildren.  She wouldn't have it any other way.  All her grandchildren complain about her wet, sloppy kisses, but they always seem to come back for more.  Even Jackson.  Lizzie is too young to know better and therefore carries the brunt of mom's affections, as you can see here.

 Lizzie doesn't really mind at all.  Mom loves all her grandchildren full well.  I think the feeling is mutual.  Happy Birthday Mom!

Which brings me to Mother's Day.  My heroes have always been Mothers.  The Captain and I have been blessed to come from good mothering stock. I had a wonderful day myself.  The Captain was gone, but he had coached the M's quite well.  I asked Maren if she was going to feed me breakfast in bed, and she went and got me a Dt. Dr. Pepper.  Good girl.  I love being a mom. So does my sister-in-law Michelle.  This pictures speaks Mother's Day to me.

Being a Mom means attending soccer games. Even in bitterly cold "Spring" weather.  I almost wished for a Snuggie.  Then I stopped.   I will not give in to the Snuggie.  I will prevail.  Anyhoo, this was Princess Maren's first year of soccer.  She seemed a little more interested in doing cartwheels on the sidelines or playing with her new soccer friend than actually chasing that silly soccer ball around.  She actually scored a goal.  Much to her surprise.  What can I say, she loves being a princess.

Moms also go to recitals.  Sweet Marissa had her first viola recital.  And in the words she loves so well -  she rocked!  So proud of her!

Moms also have to step back and let their babies grow up a bit.  Sweet Marissa recently decided that she needed her own room.  Some privacy. A place to call her own.  So we did some renovating in the basement guest room.  Here's the before and what Marissa thought of it.

Here's our after:

And Marissa helped.  Helped paint.  Picked colors. Made a cute little bulletin board insert for the back of her bookcase.  She did good.

Yes, she still tolerates a visit from the Princess Maren every now and then.

Moms occasionally try to end their lives prematurely by running participating in a 5K Run that they may or may not have adequately trained for.  I got a little off track with my C25K training program with Dad in the hospital and a little brush with the start of pneumonia this late winter/early Spring.  I had to do a little walking to get 'er done.  But regardless, I did it! I am proud of me. Next goal: complete a 5Kwithout walking. Notice no pictures here.  The IA Pilot Wife wogging just ain't pretty.

And at long last we come to the Tulip Festival.  We were happy to have the Captain's fam come to visit all the way from Wichita, KS, again this year.  Had a good time. Lots of laughs, lots of food, and maybe one too many parades. : )

The local yokels like to compare Tulip Festival battle scars. Goes something like this.

  We did Ride Night, 4 parades (afternoon and evening), street scrubbing in authentic Dutch costumes, saw the Dutch Dozen, the Night Show, ran the 5K and hit the Pancake Fly-In Breakfast.

 

Well, we'll raise you 6 parades, Jr. Dutch Dance times 4, float riding, one trolley ride, the Quilt Show, worked the poffertje stand,watched fireworks and the Night show, did Vande Fear AND we even made it to the Community church service on Sunday morning.

Phew!  Nothing speaks to our fine Dutch heritage like martyrdom.

So I will leave you with some shots of the Tulip Festival.  I feel much better.  I feel caught up.  I feel like I can go on.  To Kindergarten graduation, summer rec registration, last day of school.... ahhh guess I'm not quite done yet.

Ok.  Now, I'm done.

Seventy Two

It's my Dad's birthday today.  Seventy-two.  We are chalking this one up as an accomplishment of the best sort since there were many times this fall and winter when we just weren't sure he would be celebrating another one.

He has done remarkably well since being home.  Thank goodness for $150 a day drugs like Zyvox.  So far, he has not had any more bouts with the infection in and around his liver and gallbladder and we can only hope that this drug was and is strong enough to get it out of his system.  All his liver enzymes and blood counts have been normal, if not better than they were when he was first hospitalized this fall.  It really is amazing.  Praise God!

Dad spends a lot of time in his wheelchair now.  It seems like his sense of balance is way off, yet he is strong enough to transfer easily from wheelchair to lift chair or to bed or whatever.  The wheelchair seems to be giving him back some of his independence in a weird way.  He can get to the kitchen fairly easy and the other day I even caught him folding laundry.  Better stop that Dad or I will parentnap you and take you over to my house. 

My brothers, my aunts, some family friends and I have been taking turns helping Dad with his meals while mom is at work.  So on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Dad and I have a "lunch date". We don't always have a lot to say.  I usually read him a few snippets from the paper, we discuss the weather, and watch a little Family Feud. We watched all the hype during the week of the Masters until we were both up to our eyeballs in Tiger Woods. (Yay Phil!) Then we eat and clean up and usually he takes a nap in his room and I take a little snooze on the couch.  Last Thursday I hung a new chandelier for mom in the dining room and he helped me get the ceiling fan down.  It's a lot easier handing the parts to someone rather than having to climb up and down all by yourself.  We felt like we actually got something accomplished that day, but it's good to be lazy too.  I enjoy spending time with him and will always treasure these simple little things we do together.

I would like to tell you I would have taken the time to do this for my parents whether they needed me to or not.  I'm not sure I would have.  My intentions would have been good.  My heart would be in the right place, all that stuff.  It's not that I don't care about and love my parents, because I most definitely do.  Seems like the busyness in our lives just gets in the way of the things that are most important.  Like family.  Like watching golf with your dad.  Like celebrating seventy-second birthdays.  Like seeing your kids snuggled into your Dad's lap.  It's all good.  Love you Dad. See you Tuesday.

Spring Randomness

It's starting to feel a little bit like Spring around here.  Finally.  I LOVE it!  Have had lots to do and lots to see over the past week or so. 

By Jove, she's got it! After a little run-in with the church parking lot last summer, Princess Maren has been avidly avoiding the whole "no training wheels" thing, stating she would wait until she was six.  I figured what's the use, this child has a will bigger than the ocean, so we might as well not push her.  Daddy came home last Saturday and sweet talked her into it.  So here she is...

Coming....

and going....

...and the crowd goes wild.  Ahhhhhh!

Of course we had Easter this past weekend.  An early Easter in Iowa is not always a good thing, but it turned out to be a beautiful day.  We had some prep work to do though.  The Captain was home for the dyeing of the eggs.  Always a smashingly good time.

That's right, she's Daddy's girl in the sweetest way.

Christ IS risen.  He is risen INDEED. How amazing and how grateful I am for that cross.

Makes me feel like doing this. 

Love you Sweetie! And Happy Easter to you too!

Oh and by the way, my Dad is doing just great! Amazingly great! Here he is holding Lizzie.

Did you figure out what her shirt says?  That's right! I am going to be an auntie again! I am about as blessed as a girl can stand!  Hope you had a wonderful Easter with you and yours!

In the Blink of an Eye

This weekend went by pretty fast.  Seems like it just started and it was over.  It moved almost as quickly as Lizzie does. The Princess Maren and I got to hang out with her on Saturday night.  She's quick.  I tried to get some shots, but most of them have a slight blur to the edges.  I think I need pointers on how to take pictures of 18 month olds at full throttle.  They just don't stay in one place for very long.

Our oldest niece Madisen turned 15 today and that doesn't quite seem possible either.  I can so clearly remember her as a flower girl at our wedding and how she grabbed Uncle Craig around the neck and sealed the day with a big kiss. Now she's making movies and commercials and getting ready to drive, oh my.  She was adorable.  She still is.  Happy Birthday sweet girl!

I have heard it said many times that the older you get the faster time seems to go.  I never really belived that could be true.  Time seemed to go by quickly enough.  I believe it now.  Soon enough, Sweet Marissa will be in the double digits.

Time itself seems to have taken on a new perspective lately.  As we deal with Dad's illness,  it puts a quirky spin on things.  Past memories are taken out and examined - trying to remember the details and feelings of a time that might be the last. We try to see the joy in the day to day experiences we have right now.   We have decided as a family, that when Dad comes home this next time, he will be on Hospice Care.  We are hoping to give him a few more little moments like these. 

 With fast moving, noisy, silly, goofy grandchildren in all their glory. 

And no more vultures.  Monkeys yes. Vultures no.  Love you Dad!

In Sickness and In Health

When my Dad was sick this fall, he spent days horribly confused and agitated.  He didn't really know my brothers and I, and the grandkids were all in some sort of muddled combination in his mind.  I remember stopping by to see him in the hospital and Mom was there too, as she usually was.  He was all fidgety and seeing things and sort of a mess.  Mom asked him, "Who am I Bennet?"  He got really quiet, looked right at Mom, smiled, and said, "Well, you're my one and only." Of course she is Dad.  You are so right.

It hasn't been easy watching them travel this road together. Though Dad is home now again, he has been in and out of the hospital some and each time he comes home, he seems a little weaker and needs a little more care. Mom is still trying to work full time, since they have their insurance through her employer.  I think she feels a constant emotional tug of war in the responsiblity as bread winner versus the guilt of not being home with Dad.

 I don't think Mom expected to be so fully entrenched in the role of nurse and caregiver.  She always hated the sight of blood or body fluids in general and this fall she was hanging home IV antibiotics every eight hours, flushing a PICC line using aseptic technique, and doing a darn fine job of it.  I don't think Dad, or any of us, ever fully understood what a sinister opponent Parkinson's disease would be in the final go 'rounds.  He has fought hard and well, whatever the outcome may be.

I don't understand it.  I can't make sense of why they have to go through this.   It really makes me angry and so very sad.  I wish they could traipse off to Hawaii for a week, or maybe just drive to LeMars and get a Bob's dog and a chocolate malt and some onion rings.  I really hope they can do that sometime this Spring. 

Mom will honestly tell you that none of this has been easy. It hasn't.  She will honestly tell you sometimes she gets impatient and loses her cool.  She does.  I think she has told me in those moments of frustration and despair that he isn't the same man she married.  Marriage vows don't really come with that guarantee, do they?  But I do know she would tell you he is still her best friend.  Her one and only. At least the feeling is mutual. 

 Mom, you deserve a medal of some sort.  Pretty sure there is not one big enough or gold enough to do the trick.  I don't understand it all, but I hope I can help you along the way. You're doing great and I love you both very much.

Perspective

I got to sleep in my own warm bed last night. I had spent the previous two in Omaha, NE, in a hotel near the University of Nebraska Medical Center with my Dad who was transferred there last Monday.  After a questionable and abnormal CT scan, it was decided Dad's gall bladder and liver needed a little more looking into. Words like cancer, abscess and surgery were strewn about and we had to get things in order.

Glad to say that we got a "better" report yesterday.  No cancer, no surgery - just more antibiotics for a long, long, time.  Granted, Dad is still "a very sick man", but after having to take a look at the cold harsh alternatives, we can't help but feel like we eecked out another miracle.

Spending any amount of time at a rather large hospital gives you new perspective. No matter how bad you think you may have it, you don't have to look very far to realize there is someone who has it much worse.  What about the little boy having breakfast with his Dad, his little face all puffed up in response to all the steroids he must have been taking.  And the little girl with the feeding tube and oxygen getting a stroller ride with her brother from her nurse. What sort of  "treatments" have these little lives already had to endure? And Dad's roommate Willie, who had not one visitor the whole time we were there.  None. Zero. Zilch. Nada. He just moaned and groaned his days away - all by himself.

You find yourself abundantly thankful for odd things.  Like cell phone technology, fax machines, and the Internet.  For phlebotomists with steady hands and good aim named Gabriel (how apropos). For a room at the end of the hallway with two recliners being "stored" there, just outside Dad's door.  It was Mom and I's own little waiting room. We were grateful for nurses named Taylor who had the youth and endurance to work a near 24 hour shift in the middle of our first big blizzard of the season. We were thankful for the sun shining in all its frigid parhelial excellence the day after a longer day and night of howling wind and white out conditions. Thankful for the timing of the surgical and GI residents meeting in the elevator having apparently ignored the "siempre discretus" sign who were talking about "this really nice gentleman with primary sclerosing cholangitis" and how the wife of said "really nice gentleman" happened to be riding along in the back corner.  We had more questions answered in that short elevator ride than in the first 24 hours there.

And in the counting and recounting of Dad's colorful and varied medical history to the first, second and third year resident and finally the attending physician, we also noted God's stellar track record of faithfulness and provision over the past 28 years. I am a firm believer in a good prayer chain. I am a firm believer in HIM. So is that "really nice gentleman with primary sclerosing cholangitis" who may actually get to come home today.  Thank you Lord.  Thanks for putting in all into perspective. 

Downcast

Yesterday was my blog's one year birthday.  I was planning on writing a fun little post and maybe doing a little give-away of some sort.  If you read this blog and leave comments, you know your chances of winning would have been pretty good.  Like one in two, or at the most one in six.  Alas, this did not happen.

I have enjoyed my little blog over the past year.  Even if I had no faithful readers, or no sweet comment makers, I would still do it.   It has been a good blessing reminder, cheap therapy and a way to gather those memories I just don't want to forget, but know I would if left to my frantic mind. I like blogging.

So here I am blogging, sitting beside my Dad's hospital bed.  We have been here once already this fall. It all started with a diagnosis of H1N1. This sparked a flare-up with a chronic liver disease and septicemia, a long run with home IV antibiotics, with this all compounded by the end stages of Parkinson's disease.  Nothing is ever easy with Parkinson's.  I can't help but feel a little like David. My soul is downcast within me.

Since my Dad was forty four years old, his grasp on good health has always been a tenuous one.  What was thought to be a simple gallbladder flare-up turned out to be a diagnosis of primary sclerosing cholangitis, which means the bile ducts to Dad's liver are narrowing and hardening.  This can lead to infections and blockages and potentially a liver transplant.  Dad was on "The List" to receive one and actually got paged twice with a match, but he turned it down. Twice. At the time, he was feeling too good, had farming to do, and a family to raise. That is sort of the pendulum on which you swing with this disease.  When things are good, you're doing just fine.  When things are bad, well, it can be really bad.  Since the diagnosis of Parkinson's about 12 years back, he decided he no longer wanted to be an entry on "The List".  I can't say that I blame him.  Miracles that they are, organ transplants are still nothing to be taken lightly.

The first time my Dad was hospitalized, when I was 12 or 13 years old,  I  remember tentatively asking my Mom if Dad was going to die.  She honestly answered that she did not know.  From then on, that question has hovered in our house from time to time - always sneaking around and never quite leaving the premises. It became a room in our house with the door firmly shut, no one wanted to go there, but you would still press your face to the peephole to see if you could see anything inside. The only thing scarier than the known is the unknown, right?  What would it look like, how would it feel and when would we have to go in there?

In turn, I became a nurse, my older brother became a pharmacist, and Nate, the youngest keeps things balanced with his goofy humor and optimism.  Really, Dad has done remarkably well, all things considered.  We have a lot to be thankful for.  Dr. Zetterman, Dad's doctor, turned good friend, in Omaha always called Dad his miracle patient.  I think he is right.

So, here we are wondering.  Is it time? I only know that I will not have to go there by myself and for that I am grateful.  Like David, I need to finish the verse.

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God,

for I will yet praise him,

my Savior and my God. Psalm 42: 5-6

 

Did I mention this blog is good therapy?

Say Cheese

My parents have eight grandkids. Half of them have birthdays in July. How many of Bennet and Twyla's grandchildren have birthdays in July? (Just a little story problem for those of us getting ready to go back to school.)


Maren's birthday is on the 4th. Emma's is on the 16th and Mason and Marissa share the day on the 26th, with Marissa being 365 days older. How many years are there between Marissa and Mason? Wow. You guys are sharp. We did a combo birthday one year and sent out empty M & M wrappers - one plain and one "with nuts" - as invitations. Which grandchild would be represented by the plain and which one would be represented by the one with nuts?

Instead of doing lots of little parties, we all get together at Chuck E.'s place and just let them off their leashes like a bunch of wild animals. It works well, and Chuck has to clean up. I'm all for someone else having to clean up afterwards. Here are the highlights. Apologies again for the pictures. Chuck has some weird lighting going on at his place.



Here's Emma - looking lovely and grown-up. Emma just got her hair cut and donated 11 inches to Locks of Love. She had some serious hair going on.



Here's Maren and Mason. Maren thinks Mason "never really plays with me". Now we know that's not true. We have a photo to prove it. I think she is enjoying herself.

Here's Marissa learning how to be a compulsive gambler after winning the jackpot on one of those hit the button while the light is in the right spot games.

Here's Kleyton. This child never takes a bad picture.

See what I mean? Even the Chuck E. Cheese Pizza couldn't ruin this shot. Hi Tyeson, you sure do look cute too.

As opposed to this guy. The pizza must have given him a little indigestion.

Even his sweet daughter is scared. And worried.

Here's the Vaas boys. Nate's Three Sons.

These apples don't fall far from this tree. Poor Tanya.

Here's Kleyton again. He emotes fake agony so well. Don and Michelle paid about 38.95 for that "magic" nail through his finger.

And last, but certainly not least, is half of the partnership that started this mass chaos. Somedays, Dad has a hard time finding things to be joyful about. Even smiles get tough with Parkinson's disease. Not tonight though. If there's anything that makes Dad joyful, it's hanging out with his kids and grandkids. And that is clearly written all over his face. Say Cheese! And thanks again Chuck!