Sweetness

Life around here has been pretty exciting as of late. I am ready for it to get back to boring personally. About a month ago my right arm started swelling and turning blue. After a couple doctor's visits and a second opinion I was referred to a vascular surgeon. Brad took off on a Friday afternoon to come with me for a veinogram.
I got to the surgical sweet and they cut my arm at the elbow and inserted dye in to my vein to track it. Well it went right in and stopped. I had a 100% blockage with a blood clot. Shock turned into fear as they admitted me to the ICU. I was lucky enough to have found all this out before the clot broke loose and moved. It was caused by my top right rib being too close to my collar bone. I know, who in the heck knew this could happen.
I spent two days in the cardiac critical care unit. I had to lay still because they left a catheter in my arm running through my chest giving me clot buster medication and high dose blood thinner. Then they went back in the vein a couple more times before they could actually remove the clot. After that I went into the cardiac step down unit and awaited another surgery.
I had my fist rib removed on a Tuesday morning. I am not going to sugar coat it, it hurt like a mother when I woke up. Brad was right there the whole time. My parents drove in the first night I was in the hospital and kept the kids the whole time. After the rib was out the surgeon went back into the vein to do a balloon and hopefully open the vein. All this seemed to go well. But a couple days after the rib removal I was howling and sweating. I had a hematoma. Just blood draining collected under the incision. They had removed my first chest tube/drain a little too early. I was in really bad pain. I had emergency surgery to remove the hematoma and put in a second drain. I had to have three units of blood and was now attached to what I affectionately called my "Cootie Tank".
I can't really remember most of the stay in room 709. I was hooked up to a pain pump for a couple days because chest tubes suck. Then I was doped up on percocette and morphine a lot too. But the whole thing lasted twelve days. Brad was with me almost every night. He bathed me. He helped me on and off of a bed pan while I was in ICU. He never once made me feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, he's my hero.
I was home for five days. I got the second drain taken out a couple days after I got home. I started feeling really good. I started helping with the kids and house work again. I thanked my mom and dad profusely and told them I thought I was fine and they could get back home. We got up on Sunday morning and got the kids and ourselves ready for church. We went and dropped the kids off in their rooms and went to service. In the middle of the choirs special I had to get up and walk around. I was really hurting and couldn't get comfortable. I started loosing my breath. This went on all day until it became unbearable at about five that night.
Off to the local ER we went. My best friend Laura(aka Supper Nurse) works there and came in for support. I had a chest X-ray and thanks to Laura some pain medicine. Well, there was blood in my chest cavity. So into the ambulance I went for the ride to Kennestone hospital.
That night was the worst pain I have ever felt. I hurt so much I puked and gagged for fourteen hours while waiting to go into surgery. There was Brad, wiping my face and trying to make me less scared. The rest is a blur. I know I had surgery, they found a bleeder. They removed 2.5 liters of blood from me, I got a real chest tube, and I got another transfusion of four units of blood. They hooked me up to the cell saver and also pumped my own lost blood back into me.
When I say a "real chest tube", what I really mean is a garden hose. The tubes were as big as 1" PVC pipe. They are inserted between you lower ribs and sewn in place. They hurt. I had a pain pump for five days that go round. I was on oxygen that go round too. I thought I may not get to come home. I cried and told Brad I didn't want to go to sleep because I thought I may not wake up. I asked him to please let my family still see the kids if I died and to go ahead and get remarried. I have never been so scared or so weak in my life.
I stayed five days the second time. I had the chest tubed pulled on a Friday afternoon and I was released. I have pneumonia in my right lung and am very weak but I am home. I have been home a full week now and I am getting back to myself. I can finally walk up the stairs without stopping to pant. I have been playing with the kids and doing laundry.
My parents have been great. They have been here for a month. They have kept the kids, cooked, cleaned and done what ever I needed. But the real MVP is Brad. He kept me every night in the hospital. He came home and kept the kids during the day and reassured them. My parents came and sat with with me while Brad had the kids. Brad slept every night on a hard pullout couch. He never complained about getting up with me at 3 a.m. to unhook me so I could go to the bathroom. He held my hand, he washed my hair, he dressed me, he walked with me, he helped with everything I had to do. But most important, he was there. I was so scared and the only person I wanted was Sweetness. Brad has jumped in at home and done so much extra work. He planned Tate's birthday party. He is the man all husbands should be.
I hope I never have to have another surgery again for as long as I live. I hope my hospital stays are over, but should I land back in I know Brad will be by my side. He may not be affectionate, but he shows more love and devotion than any amount of cards and flowers ever could. My brother and sister in law want to know why I call him Sweetness. They only see his outside. His a big stern man who is serious and removed. I see his inside, the unfailing love and devotion his has for his wife and children. Any man who will get you on and off of a bedpan and never once make you feel ashamed is a real man. A man who keeps better track of your medication than the nurses do is a real man. Any man who jokes and makes you feel like a person instead of a grotesque science experiment while giving you a bath is a real man. The man who stayed by my side for three weeks in the hospital with out complaint, I call him my Sweetness.

Turner and his pee

Thank you first for all of you keeping my boy in your prayers. We went to the urologist today and found out pretty much nothing. They did an ultrasound of his bladder and kidneys. They all look healthy. So they don't know why there is blood in his urine. The urologist wants me to chart his potty habits over the next four weeks, then come back and repeat the tests. If at that point there is still blood in his urine they will send him to the nephrologist.


I wish they would have just sent us to the nephrologist in the first place, but we must follow the chain of command. We went through this same series of steps with Brad. So keep thinking of Turner B. Hey, who doesn't want a happy thought during the day anyway, right? I will still be reminding God that I am down here with the world's sweetest boy and asking Him to protect my baby. thank you all again and I will keep you posted. I may leave out how many times a day he potties, unless you really want to know----T

Something eated it all gone

You just never know when you kids may say something profound, so keep yours ear open. Now last night, Turner didn't say anything profound, but he sure was funny.


We were winding up our nightly routine of baths etc. I got Turner out of the shower and he stood around wrapped in his towel while I finished lotioning Tate and putting her PJ's on her. When it was Turner's turn he dropped his towel and looked down. His face got all serious and he said "Mom there must have been something in that shower that eated my peepee. Look it's all gone!" I promptly fell to the bed and laughed myself silly. I tried to regain my composure and assure my sweet boy that nothing "Eated his peepee". Shrinkage happens.


Ahhh, the life lessons are always rolling in. I'm so glad some of them are light hearted and funny as hell.

Very weeeee!

I am trying to be very "present" with my kids. No, I'm not in to new age trippy spirituality, just trying to appreciate the moments as they happen. While paying attention to the every day tasks that my time is flooded with I have witnessed the extraordinary.


My daughter is only nineteen months old. She can string together a couple three word sentences at best. So philosophy discussions with her are a bit out of the question. Even with a limited vocabulary she gets her point across with an eloquence that escapes most adults. Today after leaving the gym Tate and I ran into the library to grab a new book for me. There are decorative brick half walls at the library's entrance. Tate pointed and grunted. I knew she wanted to walk along the top of them. I have let her do this many times. At one foot wide and three feet tall the brick wall is the equivalent of a tight rope to a toddler. I imagine she feels adventurous and free while walking across something taller than she is. I picked her up and let her walk the length of the wall, then she jumped off into my arms. The smile on her face was beautiful. I asked her if it was fun, she nodded and said "Very weeeeee!". I don't think there are any other two words that she could have said to sum it up. Very weeeee, so simple and so perfect.


Very weee is how I feel about my life. Yes, to others it may be just walking a well worn path. To me it is fun and full of adventure. What goes on in our daily lives could be construed as boring to an outsider. The monotony of nap time, bath time, bed time, and the endless chores. But what an outsider can't see is the weeee stuck in between the ordinary. No one else can see the little side ways glances and share in the wonder that my children make possible.


I am by no means a perfect mom. Did my kids clean their supper plates? Not even close. Is the house spotless? Don't I wish. But today I got to see what very weee could be. So I can let the sweeping and mopping slide for a day. The towels will still need to be folded tomorrow. Maybe I'll get it done tomorrow while T n T nap. I don't want to miss a second, you never know what magic might happen when they are awake.

Forced Meditation

When it's quiet where does your mind wander? Do you sit and fret about the audit you're having to get together for the beeping Utah State Tax Commission? Do you worry about the blood in your four year old's urine? What about his ears and the tubes he'll be getting soon? Not me, none of that is eating away slowly at what mind I have left. Nope the next two weeks will sail by and I will be stress free, then pigs will fly right out of my butt.


I am trying my hardest to not "stress" in the traditional sense. When my chest gets tight and I feel like the walls are closing in I try to turn to God. I am not good at remembering the scripture but I know there is a verse in Philippians about petitioning God repeatedly and doing it humbly that will get your prayers answered. So I am repeating my prayers. Sometimes it makes me feel better, sometimes it makes me want to yell.


I have been noticing just how great my kids are while I sit and watch them play. While I sit praying for them, I see God in each of them. I see Turner's giving heart and his willingness to please others. I see great strength (and maybe a little stubbornness) in Tate. I am thanking God for letting me see the little moments my kids share every day. I am relishing standing just out of sight and listening to their conversations. I am watching the brother sister bond grow each day.


We'll be going to the pediatric kidney specialist in two weeks. I will let all of you know what we find out. Hopefully it will be blessedly uneventful and all I will have nothing to report but "Turner is fine".

Nothing witty

I got a call today from Turner's doctor. She called me after office hours from her home number-this made me think something was up. Well, Turner had some blood in his urine at his check up so now he's being sent to a Nephrologist(kidney specialist). I am worried to say the least. Brad has mild kidney disease, so maybe that has something to do with it.


I hate feeling helpless. I hate wondering if something is wrong with my sweet little boy. I have nothing witty to say, nothing insightful. What I have is raw unfiltered fear. Yes my "right mind" knows this could very well be nothing. Yes my "right mind" knows it could be something benign. But my mommy mind is reeling out of control and bringing me to my knees.


Say a prayer for Turner B. I know God will be tired of hearing my voice. I'll let you know what we find once we get in to the specialist. Thanks--T

Hello you Ok, good, bye

I am a little special. No I don't mean that I am so cute and really sweet (although I am). I mean I am a little bit goofy. I had the faintest memory of some foggy terrible dream that something happened to Brad. So I called him this morning. He answered "Hello"


I said "OK you're alright, bye"


Sweetness knows that I am weird and he didn't ask what the hell was wrong with me, he just said "Yep I'm fine, bye". I love that man for not questioning my insanity. I love him for not pointing out that I am nutty. He doesn't care that I get up five times a night to check on the kids and make sure they are safe in their beds breathing like normal.


I am happy to have found a person that ignores my craziness. Seven years and counting, it'll only be weirder from here on out. Maybe my resolution for the year should be to worry less. I just don't see me keeping it even for a day much less a whole year. I am a hundred percent without a doubt type A control freak. Mine manifest itself in many different ways, but a big one is worrying. Or am i just an normal mom? That could be a toss up.


Well here's to no more dreams where my husband gets mauled by a tiger, here's to not quite so much worrying. Happy 2009.