Peace and Quiet

Don't know why I've been in such a dark mood. Yesterday's stop at a rehab center with Dean, which included visiting someone we know in the dementia unit, was rather unnerving to me. That was probably part of it. Just couldn't explain why I was feeling so out-of-sorts lately.

Today Dean had to go get more blood drawn to check his platelets, which were low the last time. And then on to visit his podiatrist for a regular nail clipping. I asked Dean to go into the doctor's office by himself, so I could brood for awhile by myself in the car. I even told him that's what I was going to do.

Just those few moments alone helped. All I did was sit in the peace and quiet. When I felt somewhat recharged I went in to the waiting room till he was done with the doctor. I'm not sure it totally did the trick, but it did feel good to be alone for just a bit. A caregiver has to get respite anyway she can.

I thank God for opportunities of refreshment and renewal. God knows we all need them. I'm sure that's why He gave us the Sabbath. You don't have to be a caregiver to experience Sabbath Rest. It's built right into our week. And it's ours for the taking.

A Hiccup

Don't ever let your husband break his foot on top of having dementia. Ever since Dean's fracture last year and then his cracked ribs this year, he has asked me to wait on him like he was still injured. He constantly expects me to be at his beck and call, mostly delivering food for him non-stop from the time he gets up till he goes to bed at night. Many times I just refuse and tell him to get it himself. Which often leads to a stream of profanity. I don't mind. I just go on with what I'm doing and pretend the volcano didn't blow. A minute later, he's back to his sunshiny self.

I don't know why I'm pouring all this out tonight. It's been my life for over ten years now, and I know there are lots of women out there who have experienced much worse.

I'm just so anxious to see Dean when we get to heaven. Both of us, in our glorified bodies and minds, will think all of this was like having a hiccup, compared to the joys that await us for an eternity. Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.

The Big Tease

I found out today that my doctor is a big tease. He told me three weeks ago that my foot should take six weeks to heal and that maybe I could throw away my "boot" by then. Well, today was the end of six weeks, but he said at my appointment that it wouldn't hurt to keep the "boot" on two more weeks. I'm tired of this moon-walking hobble. It will be so nice to walk like normal again.

Like so many other things in our life, we don't know what we're missing until we do without it. Who would have guessed that one little foot not operating would affect so many areas of my life.

The church of Christ is referred to as the body of Christ. This emphasizes how much each of the members is needed to make the church function properly. When we fail to do our part, others have to take up the slack. No wonder it's taking so long for the gospel to be spread to the whole world. Jesus is waiting for us to get our act together and start behaving like one unified body.

For now, I'll just have to lace up and wear the dreaded "boot" and pray for continued healing. That's about all we can do in our churches too. Work with what we've got and pray for strength to make it to the end.

Look, Mom, No Walker!

The last two days I have been weaning myself off the walker and walking on my own, with the boot preferably. A lot of swelling has gone down, and it feels comfortable enough after almost five weeks of hobbling around with it. Next week, the doctor said I could probably do without the boot if the X-ray looks alright. Hooray!

It feels strange to walk on my own, but I have missed being able to carry things that didn't fit into the pockets of the walker. Like laundry, a plate of food, the dog dish, a trash can. My work-free days are at an end, it seems. Back to the old grind. I'm a very independent person though, and it's nice to be able to do everything myself again.

I think the Lord knew I needed this short amount of time to let me know that I am not only needed, but that I need someone too. The extra time laying around also allowed me to look at how much I need God. Truly, God has been there, overseeing the whole situation. He arranged for it to be my left foot so I can still drive. The pain wasn't unbearable, and the healing seems to be happening in a timely manner. Many friends I know have not been so fortunate with their falls. I thank God for watching over me and allowing only as much as I could bear.

The Royal Treatment

The highlight of my day was grocery shopping with my daughter and her two little girls. One of them, Jenna, age 3, had two pigtails today, and with her blonde, curly hair, she reminded me of Ellie Mae on The Beverly Hillbillies. My injured foot required me to use a motorized cart, so Jenna stationed herself by my cart so she could retrieve the items from the shelf and put them in my basket. Julia, the one-year-old, entertained me with her latest word--the sound of a rooster, "cocka-do". Then, of course, Kayla, my daughter, did all the bagging and loading of groceries into the car. I felt like a queen with my three beautiful ladies-in-waiting. It was worth hurting my foot to get this kind of royal treatment.

Perhaps this is why the Lord is so anxious for us to get to heaven. He's preparing a place for us there, and I get the impression that it will be a place fit for a king. He knows we have been through a lot on this planet of sin. He will do all He can to make up for what we have suffered. And all that suffering will require some pretty grand royal treatment.

As I felt nothing but praise and joy for my three benefactors today, we will sing glorious praise to our Lord Jesus and throw our crowns at His feet in appreciation for our heavenly reward. It will be worth more than the hurt foot. It will make up for a lifetime of pain.

My Barefoot Cowboy

I am back to my blogging duties. After two days in Kearney, NE at the sixth annual state brain injury conference, I am ready to settle down to life in the anything-but-normal place we call home.

As at Christmas, it was eye-opening to see the changes in my husband's dementia from one year to the next. My daughter was on hand though to keep him corralled as much as possible, while I depended on people to wheel me to the workshops and meetings with my injured foot.

I knew she had her job cut out for her when the two of them showed up a few hours into the conference with her dad fully dressed, including his cowboy hat, but with BARE feet! It seems he had somehow left his shoes and room key in the motel room after their visit to the hot tub and pool area. I'm also wondering what people were thinking the next morning when he sported a baseball cap under his cowboy hat in the motel's lobby. I guess that was the easiest way to get both items to the car as they were checking out of the motel room.

Kayla summed up her frustrations with him whenever she saw me during the conference and whispered in my ear, "Mother, you are a SAINT!"

Hmmm, Saint Teresa. Has a nice ring to it.

My Caregiver Daughter

Yesterday my daughter got one of the scariest calls of her life. Meals on Wheels called and said her daddy wasn't at home. She couldn't reach us by phone, home or cell. So she loaded up her kids and hightailed it over to our house. We had just come home from the doctor's about my foot. I had no idea our appointment would keep us so long and had forgotten about Meals on Wheels, while I was getting a CT-scan on my foot. Needless to say, she was relieved to find us both alive and well.

This incident did my heart good. I often think I'm the only caregiver Dean has. But there are other family members who help with his care, and would step up to the plate, if needed.

And especially there is a God who is caregiver for both of us. I'm amazed at all the ways He provides. All it takes is a phone call/prayer and God will be right over to make sure we're alright. What a relief to us.

Joy in the Morning

I went to the doctor about my swollen, bruised foot today, and sure enough it has not been healing very well. Besides that, the doctor was concerned that where I'm experiencing pain isn't where they are seeing a fracture on the X-ray. So he sent me for a CT-scan and tomorrow I will see a foot specialist. Besides he wants me to stop taking Ibuprofen and try Tylenol instead. All in all, it was a depressing day. And I am not looking forward to the night.

Psalms 30:5 says, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." How true that is. The birds must know it. Since we've been having spring weather, I've been hearing birds singing very early, at the crack of dawn really. I too look forward to morning. Somehow things just look brighter in the sunshine.

Then there's the resurrection morning. Nothing will compare to the joy on that great morning. There's an event where all Creation will be singing! I want to be part of the chorus, don't you?

What Pain?

My foot is still so swollen and bruised that you would have a hard time believing me if I told you it didn't hurt. My nephew just came home from work, on the other hand, and revealed how bad his back was hurting from his job all day. But you wouldn't know he was in pain unless he told you. Pain can be pretty invisible, except for the person experiencing it.

There's one kind of pain that none of us will ever have to suffer though. And that is the pain that Jesus felt on the cross. Not the physical pain. Because martyrs down through the ages, and even in some parts of the world today, are called upon to endure unbelievable physical torment.

I'm talking about the emotional and mental pain. To carry the guilt of the entire world could only have been done by the Lord Himself. He died the death we all deserve since sin came to this planet. Imagine the most horrible crime and the guilt that must accompany it, multiplied by every person who has or ever will live. And the Bible says He was quiet about it, "...he opened not his mouth..." Isaiah 53:7. It was miraculous that He carried all that guilt and shame for us, but equally miraculous how He carried it.

I'm not saying that we should never share our suffering with others, to just be quiet about it, but let's remember that there are those around us who are suffering in silence. Let's be especially sensitive to their private pain when possible. And every time we alleviate suffering for anybody, it's as if we are doing it for Jesus, who not only bore our sins, but our pain too. Matthew 25:30.

Mountain of Dishes

I made a breakthrough discovery today, which should lessen the dish washing time for my resident nephew who's been good enough to tackle the dishes every night, even after a hard day at work. This morning when I hopped (yes, still doing the bunny hop) into the kitchen, there was a mountain of dishes and pans, waiting to be washed.

So I pulled a chair over to the sink, bent my knee and used the chair to balance myself, so I could at least make a little headway on the cleanup task. It was awkward, but not painful, and I was very proud of myself for improvising a way to help with such an ugly chore. My nephew seemed very appreciative of my effort.

A lot of times we could be doing more for others, but we see the mountain of need out there, and don't think we are capable of making a difference. With a little thoughtful prayer about it though, we might be able to devise a way to help. It may be awkward, not very effective, and a little unconventional, but it might very well be just the amount of encouragement someone else needs to come in and finish up the work.

After all, isn't this how the various ministries of the church are supposed to work? The church family working together can accomplish much.

Holding On

Winter is over, with its icy streets and sidewalks. A real threat to some individuals prone to the worst effects of a fall. How odd that my fall recently had nothing to do with slippery snow and ice; and numerous friends lately have succumbed to the same embarrassing, ungraceful stumbles and tumbles, resulting in various injuries and complaints.

We go all winter without incident, then spring awakens the plant world with temperatures soaring, and next thing we know our feet go soaring. Right out from under us.

Sin has a way of catching us off guard too. Just when we think we are out of the danger of falling, of partaking of some harmful indulgence we have tried to put behind us, we find ourselves flat on our face again. Looking up into the face of God and asking Him "Why me, Lord?"

Most of us have learned that one way to prevent falls in the winter is to wear shoes with some tread and to hold onto something or someone when possible. Can we not prevent some of our spiritual falls by fortifying our minds with some Bible and prayer "tread" and hanging onto Jesus and our good Christian friends like our lives depended on it? And I suppose, as a matter of fact, they do.

A Breathtaking Experience

Having a fractured foot, in addition to a restrictive lung condition (like having an elephant on my chest most of the time), has been a breathtaking experience to say the least. But I have noticed that when I can bear a little weight on the walker boot, I am not so winded when I go places. When I am literally hopping without the boot, I'm huffing and puffing so bad you'd think my lungs were going to explode.

I was thinking about the difference in my breathing effort and wondered if that's how it is with Jesus. Even leaning on Him a little bit brings relief, but imagine how well we can walk through life if we allow Him to carry us entirely. No need to huff and puff and expend all that effort. Jesus has promised to carry our burdens, if we "take His yoke". That means plodding alongside our Lord, every step of the way. He pulls the cargo, we just have to stay in step. I can breathe easier and walk better just thinking about it.

My Walker

Today I drove for the first time since hurting my foot over a week ago. My nephew needed a ride to work this morning, and then later I took Dean with me to the medical supply place to see what was wrong with my bi-pap machine (mini-ventilator that helps me breathe at night). Both trips didn't require any walking on my part. I was able to use the boot enough to get out to the car and back. It still is rather painful to put much weight on it, so I continue to use the walker.

That walker has become my friend. It is parked near me everywhere I am in the house. I store things I might need in the pockets it has on the front. Things like the portable phone, a calender, Kleenexes, a hand towel, and the jug of water when it needs filled. Even my purse is draped on the side.

Jesus is just that kind of friend to me. Someone I want near me, to catch me when I fall, or just be there to lean on. Someone who will adapt to my needs and carry my burdens. Thank you, Jesus, for helping me on my Christian walk.

Strength to Serve

This week has been crazy. I've been "laid up" with a bum foot, and although I've felt pretty helpless, having to ask for things as simple as a glass of water, I've also found that I'm still able to do the really important things I enjoy doing. I've visited with someone in the hospital via telephone. I've had online conversations with friends who have cancer and who have lost loved ones. Also proofread some articles for the church newsletter. Tomorrow I'll be "attending" a board meeting via speaker phone. Thank goodness for technology.

Tonight was the ultimate activity by proxy though. It was the night for our monthly brain injury support group meeting. I was supposed to facilitate the meeting, but that was impossible because of all the stairs to climb to get to the meeting room. Instead I asked the presenter to facilitate the meeting and she said that was no problem. Then, as I normally do, I called those on my list to remind them of the meeting. It was our month to bring refreshments, so I sent my daughter to buy them. Then my husband took them, along with the name tags, the sign-in sheet, and the group guidelines we read out loud at the beginning of the meeting. It honestly felt like I was right there, even though I had to stay home.

I am so grateful to the Lord for allowing me to serve Him, even in my not-to-be-desired feeble condition. It reminds me of the verse in Joel 3:10 "...let the weak say, I am strong." Tomorrow I will complain less of my weakness and know that it can and does lead to strength.

Beautiful Feet

"These boots are NOT made for walking" is the new song title I'm singing today. The nurse told me the fracture on my foot was confirmed. I'm to use the "boot" and get X-rays again in four weeks. Sounds simple, but she had no idea what she was asking. I tried to put some weight on the foot with the boot and it HURTS. So I'm back to hopping with the walker for awhile, I guess. The foot is still swollen and bruised and it's been over a week. What's a body to do? What if my foot never heals correctly?

This reminds me of the consequences of sin. Just like falling on my foot, we often stumble into sin, injure ourselves, and require lots of healing time. God doesn't always provide an instant healing, and we can't count on being relieved of the consequences of our bad choices overnight. All we can do is be patient and wait for the Lord to work things out. It's hard for us humans to do that sometimes.

Think of the angels. They've been waiting for thousands of years for our earth to be made whole again. They must trust that God will make it all right in the end. I guess I'll have to do the same with my foot. God has a plan for me. And I'm sure it requires me to have two working feet. As ugly as one of them is right now, I remember the verse that says "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings..." Somewhere there is beauty in this ugly, swollen foot.

Give Me the Boot

How could something that big and ugly bring healing to a foot? I wondered as they put a walker boot on today after taking X-rays again. It's supposed to stabilize and protect the foot evidently and I do need that. I'm still not supposed to do actual walking on it though for awhile, and should try to keep any weight off it until they hear back from the radiologist.

I feel like I'm caught in a time tunnel and zapped back six months ago. For three months I put an identical boot on my husband every day. And doctors were telling my husband the very same things in order for his foot to heal faster than it did. We were all so disappointed when he didn't comply with the doctor's instructions and used his foot as he pleased, instead of staying off it. After a few hours, I was dying to take the boot off. Then it dawned on me how it felt for Dean to want to take the boot off as often as he did.

Now I know why Jesus had to come down to this earth to taste the life that we humans have. It's only when you actually have the same experience that you can really know what someone else has gone through. Isaiah 53:11 says, "...by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many...". I've often wondered what knowledge this was, but now I understand. It was knowledge of us. He tasted it all, for His friends.

Hopping for Love

Today I have a huge desire to bear weight on my injured foot, against the advice of my doctor and radiologist. I really think I could do it without much pain. The foot's still swollen and bruised, but if there's even a tiny fracture, it wouldn't be wise to walk on it, according to the medical authorities. It would just lengthen the healing time. My husband's foot has taken months to heal from his fall last summer. He never would listen to the doctors and stay off his foot entirely.

I've tried thinking of the reasons why I don't just go ahead and walk on my foot. Is it just because of what someone has told me? Doctors don't know everything. They don't know my body and how hard it is to hop around with a walker with shortness of breath. Actually, the motivation I have for continuing to hop around is that, as a caregiver, I can't afford to be laid up too long. So, I'm basically doing it out of love, I guess.

And isn't that why we keep the commandments of God? We don't always understand the reason for obeying, so it has to be out of love.

Tomorrow I will continue hopping out of love.

My Own Kind of Dementia

Today was a waiting game. Waiting to hear from the radiologist about my foot injury. I hope tomorrow is the day I get some news on how bad the injury is and how they will treat it. I'm guessing a boot or cast for my foot is in my future, but time will tell how bad the fracture is.

Dean's caregiving for me is coming along fine. He loses his patience alot, but that is nothing new for him. It's harder for me though to keep mine, because my expectations are that he will care for me with no complaint. But I know deep down that just is not going to happen. I try not to take it personal.

His frustrations are mostly with himself. He can't hear me from another room (well, I'm sorry, but I can't leave the room I'm in). He forgets what I've asked him to do or the task seems too complicated for him to follow. Just simple things like not finding something in the refrigerator will set him off. But, hey, I'm used to it after twelve years. Just keep telling myself, it's not me. He's mad at himself because of his own limitations with brain injury and dementia.

I hope I'm not that way with God. I get frustrated when I mess up with Him too. We can be mighty hard on God, without even realizing it. Have you ever thought, "God, I can't hear you. You aren't speaking loud enough for me to get it." Or "God, why are your commandments so hard to follow?" Or "God, I can't find what it is you want me to do."

Please, God, don't take it personal. It's obviously me who just doesn't "get it"--I'm like an old lady with dementia, taking it out on her caregiver.

Pollyanna or Pity Party

What a lot of work it's been to go nowhere all day today. My muscles ache, not from lying in bed so much, but from hopping with a walker on the few short trips around the house that I've had to make. By the time I get there my lungs make me sound like I've just completed the Hawaii triathlon and come in last. I would get more sympathy from that with family members, except they are used to me sounding like that every day. One day on the stairs at church, I noticed my 3-year-old granddaughter marching right behind me, huffing and puffing all the way. Oh, well, it's part of my legacy.

Now here's a Pollyanna point though. If I had to hurt a foot, praise God it's my left one and shouldn't affect my driving. That would be a real hardship since I do all the driving. I think that will be my assignment tonight. To count my Pollyanna blessings. It's either that or have a pity party all by myself, and I like a crowd when I entertain.

Tomorrow's assignment: Think of a way to instruct Dean when he does things for me, without him taking offense. Today he threw his standard toddler-temper tantrum by announcing, "Quit treating me like a child." Well, there you have it.

Caregiving for the Caregiver

Being laid up with what I'm assuming is a fractured ankle/foot has given me a whole new appreciation of mobility. Hobbling on one foot wouldn't be so bad for some people, except my circumstances are a little sacrificed to begin with. My scoliosis isn't making this any easier. I'm worried for one thing about pneumonia with my restrictive lungs, since I'm only on my second week with a cold. Plus my back is starting to feel some pain when I use the walker. This is putting alot of stress on a back that had a total spinal fusion 48 years ago.

Dean has been a sweetheart though with all his seeking and fetching activities. He realizes how I waited on him so long after his foot injuries last summer. Well, actually I've made it a point to remind him on occasion; but he knows. Reminding is our middle name around here with his memory problems. I soon learned not to give him a list of things to do for me. He has to get the instructions one at a time. He will come back and forth with his fetching anyway just to ask what else I wanted. So, we're just keeping it simple.

Others are helping out too. There are some things I have to get my in-house nephew to do. Things that would be too much of a challenge for Dean, like lowering Dean's walker to fit my short stature. Plus my daughter and son-in-law have been called in for shopping duties and to get Dean out of the house for a spell. I am really blessed to have my loved ones around.

God didn't intend for his creatures to live alone. He knew all along that we would need each other at each stage of life. But mostly He created us to need Him. The biggest handicap in life for me would be not to realize that plain and simple fact: we NEED Him. But out of love, it's still a choice--to do life on our own or with His help. With His help, I'm given hope that all this is part of a glorious plan. The final outcome is what counts. Even my loving family can't give that priceless commodity. Hope.