How Did We Get Here?

March 3, 2020:

“How did we get here?” My mind wandering in disbelief as two men cough near by.

“COVID I will not panic, but you got my attention.”  Then another person sneezes.

My name shows up on the computer screen indicating my meds are ready.  Going to the window the distressed lady shouts out to me,

“Look at the spit all over my window.  We have two Coronavirus patients in the ER and my family just called me and said don’t come home.”

What is home anyway? Is it as safe as you think if you’re not invited any longer?

 

Luke’s Life

My autistic son Luke never ceases to amaze me.  This fun photo of him sitting in his favorite rocking chair creates a look as if he does not have a care in the world.

I often think about the impact autism has on our medical and governmental communities including, but not limited to social workers, physical therapists, special ed teachers, speciality physicians , behavior therapists, and social security experts.  As I focus on the twenty six years I have vested in my gorgeous son and his journey,  I vastly underestimated how much would go into all that we have aspired for Luke.  Looking back, it is hard to think about all those years, but know this it was an honor for me as Luke’s mom to give him my best and find all the resources I did.

Spinning Out Of Control

I promise you this post will make you laugh and be smarter than a 5th grader. I promise!!!!!

The blinds on the doors can be closed to give one a sense of privacy and eliminate  a lot of the noise. 

I was out of control in my mind listening to my urologist state matter of factly, “You need surgery.” Yeah. Right. ( note to readers- read italicized captions under pics after you read the post ) .

My Ashes

Mom and I had a peculiar conversation.  After my recent hospitalization , we discussed living, dying, and a few things right in the middle .

It was apparent I must have some kind of strange situation inside my flesh. I have had way too many issues with modern medicine to think any different.  More surgery is in my near future.

It leaves me depressed, but not broken. Mom even joked she wanted my ashes on her fireplace so she could talk to me everyday. We laughed.

In all seriousness, the human spirit has been victimized to an extreme by TV and in particular politics with the hurt it brought. I sit back and realize I am not a republican nor a democrat. I am a person. I have needs just like you. We all deserve space to just be.

My health scares seem to grab me by the balls at times. Oh wait I don’t have balls !! Haha.

Yet, I stand up and am not afraid to weather whatever THE PLAN is for my life. Do not be fooled by those that say it is going to be ok . Sometimes it is not.  I devised a few phrases in my mind for you to ponder along with me. They are below.

This every girl does not give up easily and will remain as proactive about my health as I am able. A time comes when we all die. When it does, we should be doing something good for mankind.  How does that look to you ? To me, it means a few things:

1.  Live the little things.
2.  Keep the happy and keep it now.
3.  Look for purpose
4.  Pray
5.  Family
6.  Friends
7.  Touch and feel….

 

Becoming A Nurse

Today’s post is a letter I received from one of my aunts when she became a nurse. I wanted to share it in honor of her 86 birthday coming up very soon! As a nurse myself, I felt it was inspiring. I hope you do too. I have two retired aunts that were nurses in my family and including my career in nursing we have over 100 years between us of taking care of the public in their time of need:

The year was 1964. I am a high school graduate-the mother of five children ages one to seventeen. I am thirty-eight years old and we live in a farming community. My husband’s income is minimum wage. I am a good manager, but I can no longer make one small paycheck meet the needs of our growing family.

My inspiration is to find a job that will enable me to help meet those needs. I’d never in my life had any desire to be a nurse. My experiences with nurses was very limited and I liked it that way! I’d admire them from afar-and the farther the better.

In spring of 1964, a notice in the local newspaper said a nurses’ assistant class would be taught at the local hospital. It would last six weeks and those accepted in the program would receive seven dollars per day and a certificate of completion of the course of learning. I applied and was accepted.

I was on my way. I had two dollars each day for the babysitter, gas for the car, lunch, and one uniform that was starched and ironed everyday! I would describe myself as hopeful, prayerful, and squeamish, but determined.

Then I met my first Florence Nightingale. She was Ms. Anderson, RN from Hopkins County, KY. She told us what. She showed us how. She told us why. She then watched until she knew we understood. She was the first of many I’d meet in the years to come.

My first job was as a surgical technician and emergency room nurse with on the job training and vocational classes at night. I graduated from that vocational school. I worked my first nursing job for 19 years in the hospital. I then worked in a nursing home for five years. I returned to the hospital part time for five more years. I retired at the age of 67 with a nursing career spanning 29 years. The hard work and opportunities I never expected to have with experiences that inspired far beyond my imagination and memories I have now to look back on. Memories that remind me of hopes that are fulfilled and prayers that are answered. I am thankful.