Perspective

Making choices! It can be difficult from the most mundane decision to the very important decision. Like from what to eat for dinner to deciding to what shingles for a new roof. Yet the hardest choice for me can be how to view my circumstances. This is a daily choice. Actually a moment by moment choice. Do I choose to be frustrated and discouraged because I'm tethered to oxygen 24/7? Or how I get tangled in tubing so many times a day? My lifeline leash has limits to my independence. Yet I do have the choice to be thankful for where and how I am today. Live in THIS day! I chose to remember the journey and where I was a year ago My visit to my pulmonogist was an eye opener yesterday When i pressed him for a prognosis he replied, "It is hard to know what the long term prognosis is because most of the people as sick as you didn’t survive. And we are only 2 years into this to know what long term is." That really shook and shocked me. I'm in a small percentage of critical covid patients that survived. I knew that but I do not always grasp it. Does that make sense? So today tubing tangles are a symbol of survival. Be thankful in all things. It is all about perspective! I choose joy. 

Again?

The power of words coupled with truth is an undeniable life changing force.  The words we like to hear are positive, happy ones like “I love you”, “Proud of you”, “Til Death Do Us Part” Having your baby” to name a few. But then there are the hard words.  “You are fired”,  “There’s been an accident”, “He died”, “She died”, “You have cancer” to name a few more. My normal world came to a screeching stop with the C word. Fighting cancer for a year of treatment was life changing. As was the dread of hearing those three words again before every single annual mammogram.  Praise the Lord I’ve been cancer the last 18 years. But the dread lies quietly in wait each year. 

Three other words, “You have Covid”  changed my life a year ago.  I almost died and my recovery in rehabilitation was five months. I am still recovering with the need of oxygen.  And my hair grew back. And a new dread took up residence in the recesses of my mind.  What if I get covid again?  Several doctors have told me that I might not make if I get Covid again because of my damaged lungs. 

So I’ve kept my world relatively small.  I recently bowed out of a wedding and didn’t attend my grandkids’ music camp performance.  Just keeping my world as safe as possible. But it happened. A scratchy throat prompted me to test and I had Covid.  AGAIN. Sigh. 

But God quieted my fear. He reminded me that He brought me through it last year. If it is His will, He can do it again. So I just fell back on my favorite hashtag. #alwaystrusting

My family and friends prayed. My good doctor prescribed good meds that I started immediately. I kept a close watch on my oxygen levels. My granddaughter Ava came to keep me company and her eye on me. She’d already been exposed to Covid from her mom. 

This is the  fifth day and I feel normal!!! No fever  No loss of taste or smell  No headache  No bronchial issues. The only symptoms I had were scratchy throat and fatigue. I’m very thankful the worst is over. I hope so but with Covid, you never know. 

So today I returned to life. Being outside was so refreshing. Ava and I took a drive and got donuts and Panda Express. I delighted in my favorite pass time of taking pics from my car window.

So thankful for God’s mercy to me in countless ways. “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” Psalm 23:6.

PS:  Dear God, could I also skip the Covid hair loss this time around?  

A year ago

 A year ago my covid test was positive.  As I looked at the test result apprehensively, I didn’t anticipate the long journey ahead. Looking back I find it hard to grasp that I almost died and half of our family got covid.  I was in a fragile physical condition when my husband died. Grieving was postponed by recovery efforts to breath and build my strength to ambulate.  Five months later I returned home and to a multitude of adjustments, emotionally and physically. 

So where am I today, a year later?  I’m still dependent on 2-4 liters of oxygen depending on my level of activity. My much needed knee surgeries are permanently off the table because of damaged lungs.  So I’m still adjusting  To things I cannot manage without help. To figuring out how to do things in a different way.  Or adjusting to the loss of things I probably won’t be able to do again.

Like walking on the beach.  Not a wheelchair friendly place   Or immersing myself under the cool refreshing water or jumping a wave.   Not quite compatible with a nose cannula and oxygen tubing. As a former Florida girl and beach lover, how do I reconcile this personal loss in my life? 

Refocus  on what I can do  Not what I cannot do   Not always easy but doable   It’s a choice. And remember.    

Every day I go to the beach in my memories   How?  The master bathroom is decorated in a beach theme  I hung a grouping of  six    favorite beach pics out of large collection of beach shots.  Long gazes of my photography reminds me of cherished times and it soothes my soul.  Memories   Let the memories live again  and a new day will begin.    

#tobecontinued

#wellwithmysoul

#alwaystrusting

Recovering and Grieving

I’ve been pondering the similarities between grieving and recovery. Recovery is a return to a normal state of health, mind or strength.  Grieving is a cause or occasion of deep distress or sorrow.  And I’ve been doing both since last September.  

Grieving is an continual journey.  The triggers of grief sneak up on me at times I least expect.  Grief cannot be measured because there is no defining end. 

But recovery is evidenced in countless ways. A gain of strength or mobility in an area of physical challenge.  Or recovery of an interest that seemed lost to you just a few months ago. A step forward. A measured progressive step. 

I’m keeping track of my recovery steps. This week I was ready to decorate the front porch and dining room with patriotic decor.  I was always into seasonal decorating except for the last six months. No Christmas, Valentine’s Day or Easter. But my state of mind took a step forward to bring out the decorations for Flag Day and the Fourth of July. It was good to embrace this personal tradition again. A little step here. A little step there. I’m recovering my life.  

#alwaystrusting 

It’s your birthday

 It’s your seventy fifth birthday. And you are gone. I am beginning to process this. I see the signs of your absence everyday. The empty chair. No frozen waffles for breakfast. No worn socks turned inside out oleft on the floor. Not hearing your daily phone calls here, thereu and everywhere. Quiet nights. No snoring  So much more is missing. You’ve been gone for six months. Yet, I’m just now experiencing the reality. The numbness is slowly wearing off. 

When I was fighting to recover from Covid, you’d always ask me when I was coming home. I’d answer tomorrow.  It was easier to say that then acknowledging the long recovery journey that loomed ahead. 

And then you had a massive stroke. I wonder when I spoke to you from my hospital bed to yours if you heard me say I loved you and it was ok for you to go. Did you remember why I wasn’t at your bedside?  Did you know how strong our three daughters were through this heartbreaking time? 

But what I really wonder about is how it was when your faith became sight.  When you were face to face beholding our Savior and Lord in all of His glory.  Did you shed your conservative side and raise your hands in worship and praise? Have you been hanging out with the disciples? David? Noah? Moses? Do you see our parents, family and friends that have gone before us?  

You and I shared life for fifty one years, from dating to marriage. We kept our commitment vows. And we kept our faith in the Lord always. Though I have been left behind, I have countless memories and photos. As I go forward as a widow, I will miss my life partner.  But I promise you, I will see you later.  

Always Trusting 

Amy Grant sings Lead Me On

 The first strains of our adopted anthem begins.  We look at each other. We promised each other we would always stand for this song. In unison our concert feet are on the floor. We dance. We raise our hands. As the majority of concert goers do.  

Except once. The concert venue was packed out. My daughter and I had excellent seats on the second row center  The familiar anthem intro begins. But no one else has stood up. We look at each other. We kept our tradition and bravely stood. Two of us. And before we knew it, the entire venue was standing. It was a goosebump moment.  

And whenever I listen to this song, my heart soars, my feet want to dance and I still raise my hands in praise.  Those concert days with daughters and their friends were the best. 

Milestones

 My sister and I grew up hearing our dad proclaiming certain life happenings as milestones. We celebrated most of them. First date, first drivers license, first prom, significant marker birthdays. Except our mom who stayed 29 for ten years, then she was thirty nine for another decade, you see where this is going. But I digress.  

The first birdie out of the nest was college bound me. A definite milestone to celebrate but a bit bittersweet. Perhaps we were not ready for the changes but we adjusted.  And we celebrated every homecoming and time we spent together.

The years passed and family milestones kept coming. Weddings, new babies, growing kids with their milestones from babyhood, childhood and adulthood. Now we are not only going to visit our parents three states away but going to see them as loving grandparents. Special visits. New milestones. Precious memories.  

Sooner than we imagined our family milestones became a balancing bar of role reversal mixed with respect to our aging parents. A major milestone to relocate them to be near us for better care. We only had Mom with us for a year and Dad only two years. And talk about a hard milestone-burying your parents. The hard part was we never talked about this milestone. The only conversation was IF I die not WHEN I die. My sister and I made it through this tough milestone of letting beloved parents go. We were comforted in knowing they both were in heaven, waiting for our reunion one day. 

Today was a milestone for myself and daughters. We designed a grave marker for their dad and myself. Seeing our names on the marker is a ‘suck in your breath’ moment. My husband with a death date. My name eventually will be completed. 

I cannot help but wonder how did we get here so quickly. Yet there are marvelous milestones still ahead. I will embrace them because I know God is my life planner and in control. 

Always trusting.