how to support a family navigating a long-term hospitalization and illness

Every once in a while I like to repost this list of ways to support a family who is navigating a long-term hospitalization.  Now is as good a time as any.
 

reposted from 2007

You'll note that most of these are things that help the injured person's family, not the injured person. Go love on the loved ones.

While they are in the first few days:

Cards. We collectively -- and I individually -- received piles of cards from people - often from people that were just in the circle of our circle. Every single card was a blessing. In a way, it is just saying "Hey, this IS a big deal and even those of us way out here in acquaintance-land can see that it is a big deal." Of course no one says that out-right -- they all say the same thing, really -- but the meta-message is that they noticed that our world had just crashed.

Care Package for the family members who are sitting vigil. We received these and they were SUPER appreciated:

Go love on the loved ones.

• slip-on woollie slippers for those sitting at bedside. Hospital floors are cold.
• notepads and pens - encourage the family to establish a medical log-book. Why? See the medical log-book post.
• a pretty blank journal that visitors can sign in and leave love notes for savoring later
• chapstick
• hand lotion - lavender is clean smelling and has a bit of a perking-up effect, as does lemon
• healthful snacks with shelf-life or small portions of protein snacks that have no shelf-life. A bit of cheese with a handful of good crackers in a pretty napkin - wonderful. A small cup of hot brothy easy-to-sip soup.
• boxed juices
• a little lavender sachet
• a mini-manicure kit (we were amazed at how often we reached for this)
• a long bit of string or ribbon and a box of paper clips for a greeting card garland - much wiser than tape if they expect to be discharged or transfered very soon.
• prayer shawls for drafts (for the patient or the watcher)
• postage stamps and note-cards
• SOFT tissues
• if you are making up a care package, avoid baskets that -- though cute -- take up a great deal of counter-space.

If you have ideas to add to this list, let me know in the comments.


If the injured person is going to be there for awhile, or at a nursing home:

• scotch tape for posting family pictures on the walls
• reading material - My Mom said that she really appreciated these: Christian Science Monitor "they always have an article about something pleasant"; Peace Like a River - "books where people overcome hard things and give encouragement that maybe someway my world will be okay too."; The Week: all you need to know about everything that matters.
• I remember glancing through Reader's Digest& National Geographic, things that you can look at and read and forget that you read over and over again.
• a little ice-chest for keeping snacks
• snacks: little cheese, whole-grain biscuits, fruit, juices
• more notecards and postage stamps and nice pens
  

When you phone or visit:
Most importantly, DON'T ask the family of the injured person to make you feel better. I can't tell you how many times I found myself trying to comfort others. They didn't intend that, but it went that way anyway, like this:

Other: Oh I can't tell you how badly we feel.
Me: Thanks. It's pretty scary.
Other: I can't image how awful this if for you all. Your poor mother.
Me: Mom's holding up pretty well, considering. . .
Other: Oh but if it were me, I'd just . . .
Me: No, you'd be stronger than you think; you have to be.
Other: Well, it's sounds so awful, I just feel terrible. I cried all night for you all.
Me: We'll be okay. It will all be okay.
Other: Such a terrible accident . . .
Me: I'm sorry, I have to go now.

They didn't intend it at all, but we ended up talking about THEM! When my Dad is in ICU/life-flight/ward 7/nursing home/rehab, I don't care how they feel. I do care very much what they can do to help.

Better:

Other: What a hard time for your family. How can I help?
Me: Go pick up the family dogs and make sure they are safe and fed.
or
Me: Drop by the house and make sure the mail is picked up and there is ready-to-eat food in the fridge, that the kitchen garbage is empty and the garbage can gets to the street on the right day.
or

In other words, express your care and then keep your conversation to practical aid, and not about how badly you feel, because, no matter how badly you feel, they feel worse. Which brings us to the topic of encouragement and support.

If the person you are interacting with is actually taking a much bleaker view of things than the medical situation warrants, then indeed offer encouragement. But if the situation is rather bleak, as ours was, please offer support. Here is an excerpt from my thoughts on encouragement vs support that I shared about 5 months post-injury.

[ . . . ] It is the difference between offering encouragement versus offering support. Encouragement says, 'have hope that things will get better'. Support says, 'wow, this sounds really tough.'

The underlying theme of encouragement is, 'it had better get better, because as is, it sounds pretty hard,' but encouragement doesn't go to the hard place with you. It just tries to rush you past it and onto better days. If your situation is not going to resolve quickly, the rushing appears to be for the other's benefit (not having invest anything into sharing empathy). It is certainly not to the benefit of whomever is struggling.

Another way of looking at is is that people who give empathy are joining me where I am: sad, grieving, fearful. People offering encouragement are asking me to join them where they are: hopeful, optimistic, un-burdened. I think on whole, we have handled Dad's injury as positively as possible, but this doesn't mean I don't grieve. And when I am grieving (approximately every day that has a y in it), I don't want to be pushed back to the happy-place. I need to be supported in the sad place.

So, I have learned that I far prefer empathy over encouragement. How about you?

How then can you provide support?

• Ask if the on-duty vigil sitter would like a little break. Would they like you to stay? or to accompany them on a little walk? Try to get them outside for a bit of air.
• Ask for a chore or errand. Accidents happen in the middle of to-do lists at home. If you can step in and take over one of the dangling tasks you can give a little relief. We were out of goat hay and needed a bale picked up. Ask if you can drop off the library books, pick up stuff, drop-off or eggs & bread, take the garbage out, and so forth.
• Ask "how may we pray" and then ask "would you like to pray now, or shall I take these requests with me". Sometimes we needed prayer right that minute, sometimes we needed to know that we would be lifted up later. Sometimes both.
• Ask "Would you like to tell how this happened? or are you sick of it for today?" On some days Dad wanted to tell all the gory details, someday he dreaded it.
• Ask the family members, "How are you doing?" Be prepared for them to either look glibly resilient or to sob on your shoulder, or both, simultaneously. They don't know how they are doing, they've never done this before.
• If the family has small children or grandchildren, take them off their mom's hands for a few minutes. People came to see Dad and ended up touring the nursing home with my kids so that I could serve Dad. They will never know how much we appreciated them.
• Recognize that the nursing staff does not meet all the patient's needs, just all the medical needs. The family does the rest and they are busy and tired. Help them. Dad was very very high-maintenance, though I bet he does not remember this.
  

When the family returns home (with or without their patient)

Cards. again. It's a new stage and they need to know you are with them.

LotsaHelpingHands ~ a terrific free and easy-to-use website for coordinating helpers when we got to that stage. This website acts as a hub for listing and filling needs and saves everyone from tiresome phonecalls. (edited to add this link to a great post on LotsaHelpingHands.)

Here is a short list of really useful ways to bless them:

• Mow their lawn.
• Load them up with paper plates, napkins, and glasses.
• Meals, obviously. And for A LOT longer than you think. Meals that can be a lunch or a dinner are especially thoughtful. Here is a link to two recipes that were brought to our home. Deliver meals in containers that are clearly labeled ("OK to toss or give to Goodwill"). The family you are supporting does not need to be burdened with casserole dish tracking.
  
• Fill up their pantry with healthful beverages - if they are in shock, thirst returns before appetite, help them quench their thirst with nutritious beverage.
• As you move though your day of errands and chores, ask yourself who is doing that for your injured family. Seasonal changes are especially problematic if the man of the house is flat on his back. Storm windows? Snow tires? Anti-freeze? Do they have school-age kids that need to get school supplies? Do they have little kids who need their stockings stuffed?
  

When they do get to take their partially recovered person home:

• don't stop visiting. When the injured person is out-of-it, you visited to show love and support the family. Now that the patient is halfway recovered he or she is well enough to be bored and ill enough to be house-bound. Bring the world to them. Visit in person, even if it just 20 minutes on your way home from work. My Dad is 20 months post-injury and though not house-bound, is not exactly traipsing about either. He is very blessed by a handful of friends that visit regularly; he looks forward to it all week.
• give the #1 care-giver a break. If she or he won't tell you what they need, call their kids and find out. While the injured person was hospitalized, the care-giver had a bit of time-off, going home to rest or feign normality. Now that the patient is home, the already-weary care-giver is now a full-time nursemaid. Ramp up your support of this tired person.
  
• take meals over long after everyone else has stopped.
• pull weeds, mow. They are all at risk for getting depressed right about now. Help their environment look lovely.
• do some stealth cleaning. Over for a visit? grab a broom, sweep a walk, deadhead a potted plant, slyly toss out the rotten food in the fridge, wipe down a counter, shine the sink. Life is overwhelmingly tiresome for them right now. Every little help is a blessing.
  

That is my gleaned wisdom from a been-there done-that perspective. What have I missed? What should I add?

Also, if this post was useful to you, please let me know. There is something healing about enduring hardships and getting to help others thereby.

I love my father as the stars - he's a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart.

Happy Birthday to my Dad.

Banana Cream Pies are on their way . . .

four years . . .

 . . . ago, today, I said to my Mom, "Mom, if he didn't come in for dinner, he is out on the land somewhere hurt." He was.

hedge-makers

As we enter fall wind, rain, and storm season, I re-enter the grief cycle over Dad's paralyzing injury a mere 2.5 months after we brought home our children from Russia.  Here is a small slice of that time:

After all the hub-bub of Dad being airlifted to Harborview, I was the last person at St. Joe's. As I left they handed me a blue bag labeled "Patient Belongings" (or something to that effect).

I didn't happen to glance into the bag until I walked through the lobby. Shoes. That's all. Nothing else he was wearing had survived the experience, just his shoes. That he would never wear again.

I completely lost it. Loud snarfly sobs and eyes too full of tears to see so I just covered my face with my hands and stood there. Within one or two moments I was surrounded. Someone held me in a bear hug. Other people draped arms around me. People patted my shoulders. No one spoke. No one murmured tiresome platitudes. They just formed a privacy hedge around me until I quieted down. Tissues were tucked into my hands.

I said thank you with my eyes still closed. I could feel people stepping away. After a deep breath I opened my eyes -- no one loitered near me. No one approached me. I was too raw for contact, no matter how kind, and my hedge-makers seemed to know that. I took a deep breath, and walked out the door.

firsts

Two big firsts in our lives today.

1) My Dad drove himself out to our house and drove himself home.  The last time he did this was Dec. 13, 2006.  He used to come out a couple times a week and hang out with the kids and give me a little break.  Oh how I have missed this. 

He has his learner's permit again and a good vehicle with all the adaptations.  If all goes well he will pass his driving test and will once again be a frequent mid-day visitor at our house.

2) Our chickies spent the afternoon outside.  They loved it.  When we brought them in they all fell over in little heaps of sleepy fluff.  I think we wore them out.  The two in the foreground are Americunas, the one behind them is a Golden-Laced Wyanndotte.

And as a bonus, here are two of my three new Gold-Penciled Hamburgs.  Aren't they pretty?

Dad

It's been two years. Why do we have to have a windstorm right here at the anniversary?

Dad is doing well. Here's gearing up to learn PowerPoint to use in leau of a whiteboard as he will be teaching Sunday School next quarter. He is reading a lot and settling in to his new routines.Last night I stumbled on this video footage. I didn't know I had it.

I still miss him popping by the house and having lunch with me. Maybe he'll learn to drive and can do that again. I liked our lunch-chats.

Gospel according to Chickadee

Chickadee is working on her AWANA verse:

John 3:16

For God so loved the world he gave his one and only Son whoever believes in him will not paralyze but have eternal life.

So, I wonder if she thinks her Grandpa was lacking in the belief department.


:: one year ago today: school updates

socks

I spent the day at an English Department retreat which was focused on communication; we were asked to reflect on a challenging experience in which communication, or the lack thereof, played a part. Then, naturally, we were asked to write for awhile. Here is what I wrote:

While loading Dad for Life Flight I noticed his feet sticking out of the bear-hugger device used to stabilize his body temp.
"Is the helicopter cold?" I ask.
"Yes."
"He needs socks - his feet are always cold."
Blank stares.
"Can't we get some socks?"
Socks are fetched and I start to put them on. Seven to eight paramedics and nurses watch. I get one sock on. I pull a bit of ivy out from between his toes. I am clumsy as I put them on as Dad doesn't point his toes to help me. I get the second sock on and pat his toes. "There, his feet won't be cold."
They are all gazing at me.

Then I realize what they all realized at the start. What they had been not saying while the socks were fetched, while they had watched me fumble with putting the socks on. What I was still trying to not know. He's paralyzed. It doesn't matter if his feet are cold. He'll never feel his cold feet again.

paraplegia, grief

what not to say

Shannon, over at Rocks in my Dryer, is running a What I'd Like for You to Know series. The most recent contributor, Anissa, posted on her family's experience with cancer and shared this:

Don’t feel like you have to compare whatever problems you have on a scale with what we’re going through. We GET that we have it bad. We don’t need to hear words like “but it’s nothing like what you’re dealing with”. It’s not fun to be the crap-meter by which everyone else measures the misery in their lives.

Oh yes. Each time I would hear, and sometimes still do hear, these sentiments, I get all crabby-feeling. It's so nice to have someone articulate the why.

accident, trauma, crisis, help

how to help a family with a medical emergency that lands them in I.C.U.

A family in the circle of my circle (i.e. we don't visit each other's homes, but would always stop to chat if we ran into each other) is in a bad spot. Their Dad was injured and is in ICU, which reminds me, of course, of when my Dad was hurt. I've been meaning to jot down what was helpful during those days, so here we go. You'll note that most of these are things that help the injured person's family, not the injured person. Go love on the loved ones.

While they are in the first few days:

Cards. We collectively -- and I individually -- received piles of cards from people - often from people that were just in the circle of our circle. Every single card was a blessing. In a way, it is just saying "Hey, this IS a big deal and even those of us way out here in acquaintance-land can see that it is a big deal." Of course no one says that out-right -- they all say the same thing, really -- but the meta-message is that they noticed that our world had just crashed.

Care Package for the family members who are sitting vigil. We received these and they were SUPER appreciated:

Go love on the loved ones.

• slip-on woollie slippers for those sitting at bedside. Hospital floors are cold.
• notepads and pens - encourage the family to establish a medical log-book. Why? See the medical log-book post.
• a pretty blank journal that visitors can sign in and leave love notes for savoring later
• chapstick
• hand lotion - lavender is clean smelling and has a bit of a perking-up effect, as does lemon
• healthful snacks with shelf-life or small portions of protein snacks that have no shelf-life. A bit of cheese with a handful of good crackers in a pretty napkin - wonderful. A small cup of hot brothy easy-to-sip soup.
• boxed juices
• a little lavender sachet
• a mini-manicure kit (we were amazed at how often we reached for this)
• a long bit of string or ribbon and a box of paper clips for a greeting card garland - much wiser than tape if they expect to be discharged or transfered very soon.
• prayer shawls for drafts (for the patient or the watcher)
• postage stamps and note-cards
• SOFT tissues
• if you are making up a care package, avoid baskets that -- though cute -- take up a great deal of counter-space.

If you have ideas to add to this list, let me know in the comments.


If the injured person is going to be there for awhile, or at a nursing home:

• scotch tape for posting family pictures on the walls
• reading material - My Mom said that she really appreciated these: Christian Science Monitor "they always have an article about something pleasant"; Peace Like a River - "books where people overcome hard things and give encouragement that maybe someway my world will be okay too."; The Week: all you need to know about everything that matters.
• I remember glancing through Reader's Digest& National Geographic, things that you can look at and read and forget that you read over and over again.
• a little ice-chest for keeping snacks
• snacks: little cheese, whole-grain biscuits, fruit, juices
• more notecards and postage stamps and nice pens
  

When you phone or visit:
Most importantly, DON'T ask the family of the injured person to make you feel better. I can't tell you how many times I found myself trying to comfort others. They didn't intend that, but it went that way anyway, like this:

Other: Oh I can't tell you how badly we feel.
Me: Thanks. It's pretty scary.
Other: I can't image how awful this if for you all. Your poor mother.
Me: Mom's holding up pretty well, considering. . .
Other: Oh but if it were me, I'd just . . .
Me: No, you'd be stronger than you think; you have to be.
Other: Well, it's sounds so awful, I just feel terrible. I cried all night for you all.
Me: We'll be okay. It will all be okay.
Other: Such a terrible accident . . .
Me: I'm sorry, I have to go now.

They didn't intend it at all, but we ended up talking about THEM! When my Dad is in ICU/life-flight/ward 7/nursing home/rehab, I don't care how they feel. I do care very much what they can do to help.

Better:

Other: What a hard time for your family. How can I help?
Me: Go pick up the family dogs and make sure they are safe and fed.
or
Me: Drop by the house and make sure the mail is picked up and there is ready-to-eat food in the fridge, that the kitchen garbage is empty and the garbage can gets to the street on the right day.
or

In other words, express your care and then keep your conversation to practical aid, and not about how badly you feel, because, no matter how badly you feel, they feel worse. Which brings us to the topic of encouragement and support.

If the person you are interacting with is actually taking a much bleaker view of things than the medical situation warrants, then indeed offer encouragement. But if the situation is rather bleak, as ours was, please offer support. Here is an excerpt from my thoughts on encouragement vs support that I shared about 5 months post-injury.

[ . . . ] It is the difference between offering encouragement versus offering support. Encouragement says, 'have hope that things will get better'. Support says, 'wow, this sounds really tough.'

The underlying theme of encouragement is, 'it had better get better, because as is, it sounds pretty hard,' but encouragement doesn't go to the hard place with you. It just tries to rush you past it and onto better days. If your situation is not going to resolve quickly, the rushing appears to be for the other's benefit (not having invest anything into sharing empathy). It is certainly not to the benefit of whomever is struggling.

Another way of looking at is is that people who give empathy are joining me where I am: sad, grieving, fearful. People offering encouragement are asking me to join them where they are: hopeful, optimistic, un-burdened. I think on whole, we have handled Dad's injury as positively as possible, but this doesn't mean I don't grieve. And when I am grieving (approximately every day that has a y in it), I don't want to be pushed back to the happy-place. I need to be supported in the sad place.

So, I have learned that I far prefer empathy over encouragement. How about you?

How then can you provide support?

• Ask if the on-duty vigil sitter would like a little break. Would they like you to stay? or to accompany them on a little walk? Try to get them outside for a bit of air.
• Ask for a chore or errand. Accidents happen in the middle of to-do lists at home. If you can step in and take over one of the dangling tasks you can give a little relief. We were out of goat hay and needed a bale picked up. Ask if you can drop off the library books, pick up stuff, drop-off or eggs & bread, take the garbage out, and so forth.
• Ask "how may we pray" and then ask "would you like to pray now, or shall I take these requests with me". Sometimes we needed prayer right that minute, sometimes we needed to know that we would be lifted up later. Sometimes both.
• Ask "Would you like to tell how this happened? or are you sick of it for today?" On some days Dad wanted to tell all the gory details, someday he dreaded it.
• Ask the family members, "How are you doing?" Be prepared for them to either look glibly resilient or to sob on your shoulder, or both, simultaneously. They don't know how they are doing, they've never done this before.
• If the family has small children or grandchildren, take them off their mom's hands for a few minutes. People came to see Dad and ended up touring the nursing home with my kids so that I could serve Dad. They will never know how much we appreciated them.
• Recognize that the nursing staff does not meet all the patient's needs, just all the medical needs. The family does the rest and they are busy and tired. Help them. Dad was very very high-maintenance, though I bet he does not remember this.
  

When the family returns home (with or without their patient)

Cards. again. It's a new stage and they need to know you are with them.

LotsaHelpingHands ~ a terrific free and easy-to-use website for coordinating helpers when we got to that stage. This website acts as a hub for listing and filling needs and saves everyone from tiresome phonecalls. (edited to add this link to a great post on LotsaHelpingHands.)

Here is a short list of really useful ways to bless them:

• Mow their lawn.
• Load them up with paper plates, napkins, and glasses.
• Meals, obviously. And for A LOT longer than you think. Meals that can be a lunch or a dinner are especially thoughtful. Here is a link to two recipes that were brought to our home. Deliver meals in containers that are clearly labeled ("OK to toss or give to Goodwill"). The family you are supporting does not need to be burdened with casserole dish tracking.
  
• Fill up their pantry with healthful beverages - if they are in shock, thirst returns before appetite, help them quench their thirst with nutritious beverage.
• As you move though your day of errands and chores, ask yourself who is doing that for your injured family. Seasonal changes are especially problematic if the man of the house is flat on his back. Storm windows? Snow tires? Anti-freeze? Do they have school-age kids that need to get school supplies? Do they have little kids who need their stockings stuffed?
  

When they do get to take their partially recovered person home:

• don't stop visiting. When the injured person is out-of-it, you visited to show love and support the family. Now that the patient is halfway recovered he or she is well enough to be bored and ill enough to be house-bound. Bring the world to them. Visit in person, even if it just 20 minutes on your way home from work. My Dad is 20 months post-injury and though not house-bound, is not exactly traipsing about either. He is very blessed by a handful of friends that visit regularly; he looks forward to it all week.
• give the #1 care-giver a break. If she or he won't tell you what they need, call their kids and find out. While the injured person was hospitalized, the care-giver had a bit of time-off, going home to rest or feign normality. Now that the patient is home, the already-weary care-giver is now a full-time nursemaid. Ramp up your support of this tired person.
  
• take meals over long after everyone else has stopped.
• pull weeds, mow. They are all at risk for getting depressed right about now. Help their environment look lovely.
• do some stealth cleaning. Over for a visit? grab a broom, sweep a walk, deadhead a potted plant, slyly toss out the rotten food in the fridge, wipe down a counter, shine the sink. Life is overwhelmingly tiresome for them right now. Every little help is a blessing.
  

That is my gleaned wisdom from a been-there done-that perspective. What have I missed? What should I add?

Also, if this post was useful to you, please let me know. There is something healing about enduring hardships and getting to help others thereby.

If you think this post deserves a vast circulation, please help it along: . Just remember to insert the post address -- http://adventuresindailyliving.blogspot.com/2008/08/how-to-help-family-with-medical.html -- in place of the whole blog address so that anyone following your recommendation gets to this post and not to my blog in general. Or - and better yet - right-click on the link-icon in the footer line and use that address in a post on your blog that sends folks over. I really really want to share this; I suppose it is part of our healing process. (Also, links on your blog get track-backed to here under LINKY LOVE, so you get some google-points if you care about that sort of thing.)

Best,

:: to print this page, visit the little printer icon in the footer line. Don't see it? Click on either the post title above or the permalink icon below to get to the individual page for this post. Voila! The -- recently tweaked and operating nicely -- printer options awaits you.

:: edited to add HUGE thanks to Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer for including this post in her saturday linkage and helping me share it.

:: to read an other perspective, check out this What I'd Like For You To Know post.


ICU, paraplegia, life-flight, medical crisis, emergency, accident, trauma

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medical log-book

If you have a very ill or injured hospitalized loved on, whip out your notebook and start recording things. Vitals signs taken? write them down. What he ate? write it down. WHY?

Because there are many wonderful nurses, aides, and care-givers out there. Dozens of conscientious hard-working and underpaid people who are looking after your loved one. And there are a handful of duds who regret their career choice and are not doing their best. If they know you are vigilantly documenting your loved-one's care, they are less likely to take out their frustrations on your family member.

I can't tell you how many medical workers, when noticing that we were logging, took us aside to whisper encouragement to us. They too know that there are a few bad apples, and family members who log are part of the solution.

This post is an offspring of my how to help a family with a medical emergency that lands them in I.C.U. post, but I put it here separately so that you can print it and take it in to the family you are concerned about.



edited to add in this great addition by Shelby:

This is great advice. The notebook is also a great place to jot down any questions you have for the doctor. We found that if we wrote things down immediately when we thought of them, we didn't forget to ask the doctor. We also took notes every time the doctor visited the room (depending on the condition, this may be once a day or it may be more). Even when it seemed like we would remember what the doctor said, we wrote it down anyway, and invariably we ended up going back to the notebook and saying, "Oh yeah, the doctor mentioned blahblahblah--I'd forgotten."

It's also a good idea to continue the notebook once you're home, particularly with a chronic condition. We found it made a huge difference when we were trying to square away my medicine as far as getting the right dose, figuring out what was causing what side effects, and what seemed to be helping (or not).

To print this page, visit the little printer icon in the footer line. Don't see it? Click on either the post title above or the permalink icon below to get to the individual page for this post. Voila! The -- recently tweaked and operating nicely -- printer options awaits you.

overheard

Here is Dandy, processing one of our big life events:

Dandy, on toy phone: He did?
Why was he cutting down a tree?
Did he know how boring it is to sit in a wheelchair?
Is he happy with this choice?
Hmmm.
I'm going to have to tell Mom. She'll cry. Hang on a minute.
(small pause)
Okay, she's crying now.
Tell him not to be sad. I'll come play chess with him.
Okay. Bye.

So he pretty much distilled the whole thing into a few sentences: boredom, regret, sorrow, hope, acceptance. I love that kid.

:: this post is part of the Blog Carnival of Observations on Life hosted by Anja Merret.
:: this post is part of the Carnival of Family Life hosted byAll Rileyed Up.

Victory

To his great delight, Dandy won a chess game today. This is his first victory while playing with a grown-up. Gpa vows that Dandy beat him fair-and-square.

read the original

Remember when I posted about what my Dad shared at church? He just posted the full thing on his blog.

Our Thanksgiving

We love having Thanksgiving at our house. Okay, Wednesday wasn't so fun, as we were cleaning madly, but the rest of the holiday has been a marvelous; our first "all family" Thanksgiving meal (i.e. both sides of the family at the same time).



My Gift's brother and sister-in-law came up and met our children for the first time. They spent the night and yesterday we all went for an outing on a local island where Dandy learned why it is unwise to play on slippery logs near deep cold water in November. After I got him stripped and into the truck and the heater on I asked him if he would have preferred that I had told him not to play on the log. He said no, that he had really learned it better the wet way. He did ask me to remind him next time he is clambering on the logs. While at the beach, we ran across a GeoCache, which is kinda fun.



Thursday was also the first time since last December that my Dad came into our house, initiating the wheelchair ramp that My Gift has been working so hard on every weekend this fall. It was just a joy to me to hear my Dad chatting in the living room as I got the food onto the table.

We did learn some things worth remembering/sharing:
:: When cleaning for a family holiday, any talk of doing just a basic clean, not getting obsessive, is just that: talk. My Gift will be unable to find his end and every surface in the house (window tops etc.) will dusted, polished and tidied up. I'm not saying this is a bad thing . . .
:: Brining a turkey in Williams Sonoma turkey brine is the way to turkey perfection. My very first turkey was an unmitigated success. Hat tip to Pioneer Woman of course.
:: 25 pounds of turkey is more than is needed for 13 people; again, I'm not saying this is a bad thing . . .
:: forgetting to take many pictures on such a day is a cause for deep regrets
:: one can indeed have a good Thanksgiving meal without green bean casserole.
:: playing Chinese Checkers in pajamas is a perfectly wonderful way to spend Thanksgiving Saturday. With two fridges full of yummy leftovers and a clean house, I can twiddle away the day.

thanks giving

Today we attended my parents' church as my Dad was one of the three guest speakers on the topic of Thanksgiving. As the pastor introduced Dad, he gave a brief run-down of the accident: the terrible phone call, the news that Dad broke his back, that Dad had waited -- injured -- in the rain for hours and hours, that Dad would never walk again. I wept to hear our sorrow spoken from the mouth of another.

The first thing Dad shared was his joy at the arrival of his two new little grandchildren. I wept again with joy.

Dad went on to share how he had received an inquiry -- shortly after his injury -- about the state of his faith. Dad was somewhat offended by the question, as it implied that Dad's faith was a product of good things happening and that faith may be expected to fade when bad things happen. He shared that his faith is a product of belief in a historical event: the arrival, death, and resurrection of Christ Jesus. He shared that his faith is a product of his belief in Christ's promise that He will never leave us or forsake us.

About a month after Dad's accident I mustered up the courage to go see the tree that felled him, to go to the spot where he waited. As I stepped into that little patch of leaves and branches, I was overcome with the realization that right there, right there where I was standing, Christ had stood, or knelt, or sat, keeping company with Dad in the wind and the rain. Dad was indeed in the valley of the shadow of death, and the Lord was with him.

So much to be thankful for this year.






Updated to add that Dad just posted about this on his blog. He included the full text of what he shared.

paraplegia

Doctor Dandy

So, Dandy received a cool headlamp for his birthday, which he promptly donned and examined everyone's throats, prescribing remedies for whatever he deemed ailed us.

"You need more toothpaste," he said to one.

"You need more sleep," he said to me.

"You need more walking," he dead-panned to Grandpa.





:: if you don't regularly read this blog, you need to know that my Dad is paralyzed from the armpits down and uses a wheelchair, therein is the humor in Dandy's straight-faced Rx.
paraplegia

first storm of the season

We are hunkering down, getting ready for the first storm of the season, expecting heavy heavy rains and SE winds of 35 mph with gusts up to 60, which put us into official National Weather Service "High Wind Warning" status. I've got the wood stove going -- much to the dismay of the resident yellow jackets -- and an apple pie in the oven. We do not, alas, have our storm windows up yet. Last spring I paid someone to trespass onto my neighbor's (uninhabited) land and cut off 2/3 of the overgrown pear tree that that sits windward of our home. If it falls now, it will block the driveway, but miss the house.

Since we have lived here, we have had a chicken coop blown to bits and watched the neighbor's under-construction barn fall to the ground, twice. When we have wind, we have serious wind.

I've always loved storms, and I am trying very hard to embrace storm coziness today, but I am slipping into melancholy as Dad's injury last winter was on the night of the Great Storm (an extratropical cyclone, actually) last year. The idea of him lying in the cold rain for all those hours breaks my heart.

The Hanukkah Eve Wind Storm of 2006, as it is officially called by the National Weather Service, killed 15 people and "blew down thousands of trees, knocked power out to close to 1.5 million customers, damaged hundreds of structures and homes, and injured dozens of people. 275 people were treated in hospitals for carbon monoxide poisoning [we saw most of these folks piling up in the hallways of Harborview Medical Center: multiple people per gurney] following the storm."

As the rest of our region was watching the winds pummel their homes, we were awaiting news of Dad, getting the news, not believing the news, and crying a lot. I drove my Mom home in the middle of the night. The world outside matched our private inside world that night: torn up, frightened tumultuous, exhausting, weeping.

During a lull in the wind the next day, they life-flighted Dad to Harborview, our regional trauma center. We drove down to sit with him and were there until Boxing Day.

Storms will probably never be the same for me again.




more storm links ~
:: hanukkah eve storm on answers.com
:: hannukkah eve storm from Wash. State History

some Dad links ~
:: hard news
:: what happened?
:: Dad update

a lake day

We spent the day at the lake. All four of us, plus the three dogs, plus my Dad in his power-chair. It was great.

My Gift took each of the kids out in a kayak; Dandy and Bear (the border collie) swam for hours; Chickadee sat on G-pas lap as they told each other secrets; we grilled hot dogs and it was a marvelous wonderful day. The weather was patchy which meant that no-one else was around and the dogs could run free. Which they did, sniffing and splashing everywhere.

Plus, as we had Dad's wheelchair van, we got to park close and didn't have to schlep our stuff very far. We're going to have to get him one of these t-shirts.

birthday joys & sorrow

Birthday joys:
:: hearing my children sing the lines "happy birthday Mama" to me. It was a first.
:: seeing Dad sitting in my yard: first visit to my house since the accident.
:: having tea with two of my aunties, my Mom, and my daughter at a darling tea shop with real scones.
:: receiving musical birthday phone calls.
:: envisioning my youngest niece attending her first day of classes at Westmont.

Birthday sorrow:
:: discovering that the chicken-manure-smell that had permeated our yard all day was not, actually, chicken manure delivered to the to the organic garden next door, but was indeed, the remains of our youngest goat, Chester.