Blowing Up Balloons

Another blurp in the medical history books for a Mr. Dean, aka Idaho or Shortcut, (my everloving caregivee-husband). Never thought I'd have to take him to the doctor for blowing up a balloon too hard. Yes, believe it or not, he seems to have ruptured one of his salivary glands (parotid gland, if you want to get medically technical).

I swear he was trying to make as many annoying noises as he could with this balloon he got ahold of the other day. I finally got tired of asking him to tone it down. He was obviously enjoying the highly-pitched squeaks and fart sounds he was creating.

Then I noticed the sounds stopped and he brought to my attention a great big egg-sized lump on the left side of his face, right below his ear on the jawline. Naturally, I went into panic mode inside and asked him how long it had been there. Well, of course, he didn't know. He just felt this pop or something on the side of his face after blowing real hard on the balloon, and there it was!

I tried to stay cool, calm, and collected and careful enough not to feel the lump too vigorously, so as not to burst it or anything. But I was naturally curious whether this would go away by itself. It was evening time, so thought I'd let it wait till the next day before I starting dialing some medical professionals.

Everyone I talked to the next day said it probably needed medical attention, because it was still there in the morning, though not as big. So I took him to the doctor's office that afternoon (their after-hours-you-don't-need-an-appointment time). Fortunately the diagnosis was not as complicated as I'd feared and the doctor just prescribed an antibiotic in case some bacteria might escape. He suspected it would go away on its own though, so we're just waiting to see.

What could I possibly have learned from this silly experience, you ask? Well, I, like Dean's balloon-blowing, have a tendency to blow things out of proportion sometimes. Causing my "worry-wart", like a lump, tendencies to overpower my otherwise calm exterior. During these times I'm sure there must be a worry lump there someplace, if I took the time to look for it.

But, most of the time my worries prove to be unfounded. The final "diagnosis" is not nearly as dramatic as I'd feared. I need the Lord's help not to blow so hard on my "balloons" too.

Escaped Pills

This morning when I was filling my own pill organizer, I noticed Dean's pill organizer had one of the little boxes open just a little. Much to my chagrin, Tuesday night's pill door was not only open, but there were three little "escapees" on the loose! Did they fall on the floor somewhere that only a curious dog or child would be able to locate and put in "solitaire" (i.e. their own mouth)?

Dean came into the kitchen at about that time and when I asked what he knew about the "pill break", he informed me that he had noticed that pills had dropped to the floor when he took his pills the night before. But not to worry, he found them and taken them along with his other pills. Well, there's a whole new thing to worry about...what pills were they?

They ended up being "significant" pills, but evidently Dean was able to weather the storm overdose, because, after all, here he was at five in the morning, wide awake and telling me about it with coherent speech and everything.

When bigger things start falling out of their prescribed places in our lives, we follow a similar pattern of wondering, worrying, questioning, and searching. How patient a God we have, who allows us to experience these very human responses. In the end, we often don't get our questions answered, we never find what we're looking for, and it's especially then that our worry can spin out of control.

But God has given us a special tool to help us weather these very real storms of life. It's called faith. Nothing gets the emotions under control better than a healthy dose of this worry-buster. When we turn the controls over to God, He never steers us into waters we can't handle. Things find their perspective in the bigger picture that God Himself controls.

I needed this little reminder this morning. God has the answers and He's in control.

A Greater Power

Last week after lightning from a thunderstorm split a big tree in our neighbor's yard, Dean and I were both shocked to see the downed tree taking up her whole back yard. What a blessing it didn't land on her house!

But she was at wit's end as to how she was going to get rid of it. Dean, an ex-logger, immediately offered his services in cutting up the tree for her and getting it stacked as firewood that she could sell. Even though his power saw hadn't been used for about fifteen years and was buried in the far recesses of our garage, he didn't see why he couldn't come to her rescue and do the job.

The neighbor and I, and I'm sure anyone else who knows Dean very well, had our doubts that Dean could ever accomplish such a feat. Dean at 67, with a brain injury and dementia, who can't even put his own socks on any more and falls on a regular basis--chopping and stacking firewood? It seemed laughable, improbable, and totally unthinkable. But we humored him, knowing that chances are he'd forget about it by the next day and it would never happen.

Nothing more was said about it for a couple of days. Imagine my shock Saturday night when he announced that he had a busy day the next day. I asked what he would be doing, and he said, "I'll be cutting up that tree, that's what!" So Sunday morning he put on his jeans, work gloves, hat, and began the search for the chain saw in the garage. He finally managed to resurrect it from its greasy, dusty grave, began feeding it with oil and gas, and patiently pulling on the cord to start his reluctant forest friend.

I had a weekly blog to get out that day, but had to take intermittent breaks to check on Dean, who was alone in the neighbor's back yard, trying to start his poor, tired saw. I could hardly concentrate, thinking about him falling and lying over there alone with multiple lacerations on multiple limbs--not the trees', but his own!

My mechanic son-in-law assured me that the saw would never start, and we were counting on that to keep him safe. It was so sad to see him trying so hard to complete this one last logging feat though. As much as I dreaded hearing that saw start up, I found myself almost wishing it would, so I could see his face light up with joy and his hefty arms once more take up the saw and apply it to the wood all around him. We were both being transported back to another time, another decade, a newly married, young couple in the Montana Bitterroot Mountains.

But alas, it was not to be. As the day wore on, he finally allowed the saw to be taken over to our son-in-law's garage to see if he could perform some magic on it. But his final diagnosis for the saw was terminal. Dean's precious last link to his manhood is resting in peace once again in our garage.

Fortunately, Dean is taking the loss well. Our neighbor informed us that she has found someone to cut and take the tree, and Dean will never know whether he could have tackled the job or not. In actuality, his saw saved him from knowing...and saved him from getting hurt. I think I'll be hanging on to that power saw. It's a symbol to me of that Greater Power that we can rely on to get the job done, one way or another.

The Saw

my cowboy, logger, truck driver husband and I--sometimes I miss him

Worry

Nothing puts me in the shopping mood more than having money to do it, and since yesterday was the first of the month, my shopping list for things I've been waiting for most of last month was screaming for attention.

I generally like to do my shopping ALONE, early in the morning when Dean's at his day program. But this morning Dean was just barely awake and hadn't had his Sunday morning pancakes yet, so I took a chance and asked if he'd like to go shopping with me. (Didn't want him fixing his own pancakes while I was gone--he's forgetful about turning off the stove.) I couldn't believe how fast he got dressed, and mostly on his own, except for his socks. This man was hankering to go.

As we arrived, he hollered at a man clear across the parking lot and told him he had "neat shoes"--they were quite colorful, even that far away. The man must not have heard him, or was hoping no one else had--he just kept walking. I was dreading other awkward confrontations as we got closer to our destination. After trying a few "go carts", he finally settled on the one he wanted to ride in the store. I must say things went pretty smoothly while we were in the store and on the way home. So, my fears and dreads were not to be realized, at least for that day.

I would say that this is the case for 90% of my worries and fears. Most of them don't ever happen. So, why do I waste such valuable time on them? I John 4:18 tells us that "perfect love casts out fear". I hadn't fully seen that as applying to my worries as well. As I focus on God's love, my worries and fears do have a tendency to take back seat.

There's a big market for worrying these days though. There's lots of speculation about what's going to happen in the world. Some people are drawn to preaching that is meant to "shake us up" with shocking stories and theories about end-time events. These tactics do "worry" some people into obedience. Then there are other preachers who tickle our ears with a "feels good" message, designed to make us feel good and worry less about obedience and focus instead on the prosperity and wealth God is just waiting to hand over to us here on earth. But Jesus tells us to take up our CROSS and follow Me. Not our crown. (Matthew 16:24)

I John 4: 1 says, "Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits, whether they are of God; because many false prophets have gone out into the world." Remember, my friends, whether you're worrying too much or not enough, God's Word will provide us with just the right balance to see us through any trial. The Bible, our only safeguard.

The Gift of Bread

If there's one grocery item I hate to be out of, it's bread. I crave it in some form at almost every meal. So even when our pantry was shrinking this week, in direct proportion to our checking account, I didn't think it was possible for us to actually be out of this hearty staple. But then, we were down to our last loaf, and I was even out of bread flour so I couldn't make any in the breadmachine.

It wasn't a big problem, as I had plans to grocery shop big-time tomorrow when our money comes rolling in. But I was in for a pleasant surprise when our next-door neighbor comes over with a big box of bread to give away. He volunteers at some food distribution center and occasionally shares some of their excess food. I took eight loaves, putting most of them in the freezer. Dean and I cut into a loaf and it was soft, delicious wheat bread.

God tells us in Isaiah 33:16 "...Bread will be given him, His water shall be sure." It was just a reminder to me from God that He is still in charge and there's no need to worry about finances. God will provide. And He is the Bread of Life. John 6:48

Caregiver Woes

It has not been an easy day for this caregiver. My husband's appetite, although somewhat better since we lowered one of his meds, is still through the roof. He is asking me for something to eat repeatedly during the day, and it gets old. I'm still battling a chest cold myself, but that doesn't mean any lightening of my workload around here, including the constant worry about finances. And now he just got mad when I wouldn't give him one of my cough drops!

I'm tempted to think of him as a demanding, selfish old man, but then I remember all the hugs and "I love you"s he has also showered me with during the day and I'm reminded that this is just part of the dementia. He isn't trying to be a burden, and it would hurt him fiercely if I thought of him that way.

So I'll just try to take a deep breath, put it all in perspective, and pray for patience and strength to keep myself together for one more day. After all, look at what the good Lord puts up with in me.

Shattered Glass

The pretty salad that I reported making day before yesterday suffered a horrific demise today when Dean, my husband, sent it sailing across the kitchen when his arm accidentally flung it off the stove. I was about to revive it with another tomato and serve it for our supper. And if you'll remember it was in a GLASS bowl. Not crystal, but cut glass, thankfully. I had no idea glass could break in so many pieces though! The floor was sparkling with tiny pieces of glass EVERYWHERE. Not an easy clean up, I can tell you. I'll be scared to go barefoot in there for at least a week, even after much sweeping and vacuuming.

I have to admit the shattered glass was rather pretty, as I swept it up. At least neither of us were cut or hurt by the accident. Now I have something to request for Mother's Day. A new salad bowl! You see, no matter what happens, we can turn it in to a positive. I refuse to be pulled down by a little cut glass.

It turned out to be a stark reminder that our lives can shatter at any moment. Nothing is guaranteed. Here one minute, gone the next. Rather than complaining or worrying about what the future holds, it might be more productive to just appreciate and enjoy the moments we have. I needed that reminder today.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

What a fun time we had with family and friends today. I was a bit worried about how my husband would handle six adults and four kids, all toddlers, for Sabbath dinner, but he was admirably well-behaved through it all.

Another worry today was the weather. We were under a thunderstorm and tornado watch most of the day. And we have no basement. It really was storming it up right after church when people started arriving at our house. But all we have had out of it so far has been some heavy rain.

I worried about not being able to write this blog tonight, but it appears I can master that one too. Except that I'm getting sleepy. Didn't get my usual nap in today.

Main lesson from today for me. Don't worry for nothing. Let God handle your life, but also your stresses. I used to worry about being a worrier. Trust is a good antidote for that.

The Day After

How nice of the sun to shine so brightly on the freshly-fallen snow from yesterday. The wind even stopped its cold distraction, so we could focus on the glistening white landscape. Along with the brightness of the sun was a warmth that melted away all the bad feelings in the wake of yesterday's snowstorm.

Once again people took to their vehicles and invaded the stores for supplies they forgot to get just two days previous, before the storm hit. But this time the shoppers were wearing their happy faces, instead of their woe-is-me-how-much-snow-will-we-get faces.

When storms threaten to impact our lives, we should try to envision the day after the storm. What a different world it will be for us, when the storm passes. God will help us live for "the day after".

Our Case Manager

With the holidays winding down, there's more time for relaxation and reflection, at least in our household. I've been looking back at my life, compared to the last year or two, and sadly, I can see changes that point to increased dementia in my husband. I don't want to recognize the signs, but they are glaringly present, and must be addressed and dealt with. These are not pleasant observations, but necessary ones for the ongoing task of caregiving for him.

Fortunately, God is in the caregiving business too, and His omniscience allows Him to constantly assess our situations and needs. We don't know the future, but this wise and all-powerful God does, and it's much less daunting for me to know that He is "on the watch". We couldn't have a better "case manager."

I pray that all my loved ones will allow God to orchestrate their lives. And He graciously does just that, when we totally and unconditionally surrender our lives to Him for that purpose. Don't wait another day to give Him the "reins" of your life. He will steer you through the roughest waters. It may be a rough ride, but He will see you all the way to our destination with Him, where all the worries in this life will fade into nothingness.