Have you ever wondered what your life would have felt like if you had been named differently? Would things have gone differently for you if you were named Oliver instead of Dave, or Polly instead of Tiffany?
I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about that, but today at Burger King (it was necessary, believe me) I had the opportunity to be someone else for just a few seconds. The guy at the counter took my order, looked up and said “Name?” And for some reason I told him “Clara”. I do not know why Clara, I just wanted to see how it felt. It’s not my name, not even close.
I realize there was no danger involved as in a spy alias, and it wasn’t like I was lying either – he didn’t specify that it had to be my name. It was just a small, secret excitement to keep my own name hidden and be a Clara for a few minutes. That old fashioned name that I never hear much anymore… I had to spend the wait time consciously thinking Clara thoughts, lest I forget who I was trying to be and not recognize my food when it was called out.
What became clear to me is that I have become so accustomed to “living in” my name, writing it, seeing it on letters, name badges, checks, hearing it spoken and just thinking it, that I can’t imagine being anyone else. It identifies my life to me and it feels strange to be called anything else. Just sayin’…
Clara’s receipt, complete with ketchup.
(Another totally weird thing is to google your name and see how many other people are called the same thing? How can that be? Have you done that?)
One of the hardest things for me in my relationship with God is knowing when he’s telling me something. I’m sitting in the physical, trying to hear from the spiritual and honestly, I need more practice at it to be sure what I’m hearing.
The husband has been a member of a community band for years. It takes quite a bit of his time and is really his one and only hobby. He plays trumpet, helps on the board, and with their website and talks about band, band, band all the time. I’m not a band music type of person, although I can usually find something to enjoy about any music played well. I have been to quite a few of his concerts over the years but lately I have felt more selfish with my time. I have many things I enjoy doing as much (more) than listening to marches and show tunes.
Today there is a fall concert, and I would say that the husband has been a tiny bit stressed out about it. I had not discussed with him whether I would go or not. He left early to be there for a practice and warm up. I was at home wanting very much to have a lovely quiet afternoon. Unfortunately, I have found that often in that situation I begin to have persistent thoughts that maybe I should be doing something else. Like, maybe going to a concert in support of the husband. Is this the voice of God testing my willingness to listen? Is this an overzealous conscience fueled by guilt? Hmmm… what are the chances?
So here I am at the concert (painfully early I might add), which I know will probably make the husband happy.
It’s possible it wasn’t God talking but he knows that I thought it might be him, so I think he’s happy too. It strikes me as the kind of thing God would do to surprise both the husband and me, so in that way I am looking forward to how this will turn out. And what can it hurt? I feel sort of blessed already, I’m just sayin’…
If a person is a nurse, which I am by profession, it is almost impossible to avoid having to make decisions for people. At the very least one has to know when to influence people to make a decision for themselves that is best for them. Sometimes the decisions are about life or death and the responsibility can be scary and somewhat overwhelming. It just comes with the job. When I walk out the door on my way to work I am most always in a prayerful mode, asking God for the patience to make it through the day and the smarts to know what I am seeing when I look at my clients. It’s been one of those scary weeks and I am thankful that my prayers are heard and answered.
My newest elderly client (and friend) has been out of rehab and at home for almost three weeks. He came home far too soon and needed a lot more help than any of us knew he would need, but we had hopes that his strength would increase and he would thrive. He was so overjoyed to be in his own house and out of the hospital. I was leaving to visit my parents a few days after he came home, but we managed to get a crew together to be with him almost 24 hours a day. There were ups and downs as everyone settled into routines. I returned from my time away and began helping with Jack’s care again.
And then this week, there came the morning that he was so short of breath that sitting up on the side of the bed required a rest period. Trying to get into the car for a doctor appointment was so difficult that we decided to cancel it. And his own admission that he didn’t feel well and just wanted to lie down finally tipped the balance for me. Something was wrong and not getting better. This was the first time I have ever called 911. It was a good decision. We were in the ER for the next six hours and he was finally admitted to the hospital with congestive heart failure.
There are four of us caretakers for Jack and we are still keeping vigil. He was moved to the cardiac ICU yesterday. Jack remains uncomplaining, always worrying about whether we have eaten, always trying to send us home to rest and wondering if we’re taken care of. We have hopes that he will improve and come home again, but there is an awareness of how fragile life is, how quickly things can change and how precious the time is that we have with each other. I’m just saying that vigils can be a bit stressful…
The town of Hayward, Wisconsin where my family lives is about four hours from a major airport so I have become familiar with the shuttle service, Northwest Travel. This morning at 6 am, I climbed into the van with Dave, the driver, for the ride to Minneapolis. It was dark dark. Dave had just made it home at 10 pm the night before, having made the same run.
We talk from time to time about the area were driving through. Most of the drivers are retired people with a history in Hayward and we usually find we have people and places in common.
I’m grateful my mom packed cheese and crackers and apple slices which she thought would make a good snack on the plane. They are breakfast for me and are gone in the first half hour. The flavor of the smoked Gouda mixed with the sweetness of apple is so right for fall and the quiet darkness of the trip.
It was a busy time, this last ten days. The routines and tasks were different from my usual so in that sense it was a vacation, and a refreshment, not my usual work.
I got along fine with the one outfit of clothing that I wore. Mom and I made a trip to the thrift shops and at $4 a bag I was able to put together a nearly awesome northern wardrobe. I recommend the no pack method to anyone brave enough to try it.
I enjoyed spending time getting to know my neice and nephew as teenagers. I stayed with them a couple of times when they were much littler. Now they are homeschooling, driving, babysitting others and doing their own cooking and shopping. Times change. Missed my brother and his wife but so glad they were able to take a much deserved anniversary outing.
And of course the precious (can’t really think of another word for it) time with mom and dad, sharing some of their routines, talking. We laughed over lots of things, got stocked up on jigsaw puzzles for the coming thanksgiving holiday, and last night we cried over a sad movie. More memories, and hopefully we will be able to remember them, although you never can count on that.
Thankful for life, for the ability to travel, for the opportunity to share simple things. Thank you, once again.
When you think about it, it’s a rare thing to step into someone else’s life and live there for a few days when they are not there. It’s a little surreal in fact. This week I am still me, but I am living as a “stand in” for my brother and his wife while they are gone on a well deserved anniversary trip. This morning after sleeping in their bed, with their dog, I got up and watched the sky get light from my sister-in-law’s favorite chair in her second story bedroom.
My brother’s house and the upstairs bay window that looks to the east – love it.
I walked over to my parents house for my first cup of coffee for the morning, and then back to have breakfast with my brother’s two children Claire and Evan. Today they are starting the week’s schoolwork which is scheduled in detail for them. They study at home and I’m warned there might be questions about algebra, geometry and writing.
My nephew and the dog studying together.
My brother and his wife have a genuine interest in their children and their children’s friends. They invite a small group of teens from their church over to their house every other week – yesterday was the day for that and my brother explained how he hated to cancel it just because they weren’t going to be home. So he didn’t. I am glad my brother isn’t afraid to freak me out, and I’m thankful God keeps me calm and trusting when I’m challenged.
Evan and I went shopping Saturday and got healthy snacks and he cleaned up the family room in preparation. What a responsible guy! After church on Sunday, Evan and I got into the van and I sat waiting for the rest of the kids to come out and join us, I didn’t realize they were already seated behind us until one of them asked me what i was waiting for. What a quiet, well-behaved group! (this really happened).
At the house they had a great time cutting up apples and making hot chocolate. They spent half an hour eating and talking with each other, half ah hour listening to me talk about my experiences with teens in Cambodia, and half ah hour playing a game while waiting for their parents to pick them up. They were respectful to me, kind and encouraging to each other and still looked like they were having a lot of fun. What a refreshing look at today’s youth!
Getting ready to play Dutch Blitzthe game gets crazy…
The family dog really misses my sister-in-law. He is a lap dog and it’s almost like having a baby in the house – one that wants to be held all the time. He is getting used to me though, as is the family cat. This morning they were both giving me “the stare” as I started doing things in the kitchen. The water bowl was empty and they seemed to know how to get someone to fill it. As i said, the dog sleeps quietly all night on the bed with me, and yesterday he took me for a walk too. What a sweet dog!
Scruffy, taking Aunt Shirley for a walkMore of what we saw on our walk, the dog and I.
It’s all good so far and I fully expect the rest of the week to go smoothly. I suppose it’s partly a case of extra good behavior to go easy on Aunt Shirley, and that’s okay, but mostly I think it’s a blessed life that I’ve stepped into and get a chance to live in, for a few days. What an interesting opportunity!
I love birch trees.I love autumn.I really love autumn!I love this silhouette of a martin house against the sky!I love water scenes.
It doesn’t last long but is all the more beautiful for it’s transitory nature. We drove slowly, turning down every beckoning lane that showed color. This is the north woods at it’s finest and our celebration of the first day of the Feast of Tabernacles.
I am always, ALWAYS thankful for safe travel. Air travel especially is a marvel in this day and age. When you look at the statistics, which I don’t happen to have at hand, going somewhere by plane is many times safer than going by car on a road trip. Yet we all get in cars and travel without giving it too much thought. But many people have a phobia about getting on a plane.
Maybe it’s being strapped into something akin to an aluminum can, with dozens of strangers….
Maybe it’s knowing that one man’s alertness, judgment and skill determines whether your flight ends well or badly….
Maybe it’s wondering what you would think about for the last 120 seconds of your life should you be accidentally sucked out of the plane….
Maybe it’s walking down that aisle and discovering that your seat for the next three hours is next to… a baby.
A baby that’s already been on the plane for two hours.
A baby who is possibly putting on that look of “I’m done here.” and whose mother is nervously bouncing her up and down on her knee, hoping for the best, whatever that is.
Meet Eleanor.
Ellie’s carseat had the window place, she and her mom were in the middle seat and I was in the aisle seat. I always choose aisle seats. Somehow it lessens the claustrophobia.
The nice man across the aisle from me felt obligated to say what a good baby she was the whole flight from Ft. Lauderdale. “Smiled all the way.” he said. I know babies. Two hours of smiling at one stretch is about their limit.
Sure enough, as we sat endlessly watching people trying to put their way-too-big carryons in the over head bins, Ellie got tired of being bounced and cajoled and started to, well, cry. She got red, and angry. She let her mom know that she didn’t want to be stuck under a blanket to nurse, most definitely not that. She was hot, sweating, infinitely uncomfortable.
Honestly, at that point I was overcome with sympathy and compassion for mama, because everyone in the plane was turning around and holding her responsible. Her worst scenario was coming to pass and she had emptied her bag of tricks. (No really the worst scenario would have been trying to put oxygen masks on herself and the baby… I’m guessing.)
“You know, it can’t get much worse. Give me the baby. Maybe stranger shock will quiet her down.” Was that brave of me or what? And a second later, with no argument at all, it was me and Ellie. Seat mates.
She really was a good, sweet little child and this story turned out much better than I hoped. The change of perspective, someone else’s lap, and the air vent that we opened full blast in her face, quieted her down right away. Personally I think she didn’t want to be bounced any more so I held her quietly and sang in her ear. As the jet engines roared to life (and they were about six inches outside our windows on either side – love the back of the plane, not) and we took off on our journey, Ellie went back to her mom and fell asleep for all but the last few minutes of our flight. Nothing as peaceful as a sleeping baby. I got to look at her the whole trip which was sort of a blessing for my blood pressure.
Sleeping child, sleeping mother. Peace for the whole plane.Leaving me free to crochet and enjoy a snack.
I’m all cared out for today. The trouble is I’m going on a ten day trip in the morning. I should be packing, but I don’t care. I’m going to do it differently and just not pack anything. I’m going to get up in the morning, get dressed and go to the airport. I’ll take my computer and my night mouth guard. Maybe some underwear.
Will this have consequences in the following week? Maybe, maybe not. That’s why it will be a great experiment.
It will be nice not to have luggage while I’m traveling.
I can wear the same thing all week. I can go to the thrift shop. It will be fun. Maybe it won’t be fun.
This week I have not called my mom. I have not called my daughters. I have not done any writing. I have not done the laundry or cleaned the house. I have hardly been at home. I started a new caregiver assignment that turned out to be quite challenging.
Even young people can have a hard time when they are weak and sick, but being that way when you are elderly is worse. It is a pit of helplessness. My friend Jack is in that pit. I don’t know if I can help him climb out but I know I can’t just leave him there either.
After spending seven months either in the hospital having surgery, or fighting infections, or getting his diabetes regulated, or in rehab trying to get his strength back – he is finally at home. He was giddy with excitement when they brought him out to evaluate his home for safety. It wasn’t that any of the institutions were bad places. He had just had enough of the routines, of professional friends, of hospital furniture, of TV on the ceiling. He dreamed of the peace and quiet of home.
In spite of having a nurse manager, an occupational therapist, a physical therapist, a home health aide and me, medical “girl Friday”, this week at home has made Jack realize that he had some very high expectations. Meals don’t appear magically at home. Messes don’t clean up by themselves. There are no helping hands at home every time you feel a little dizzy or off balance. Home can be a scary place when you are alone, when you fall and can’t get up, when your blood sugar is so low you can’t think straight or have the strength to get out of bed. Help comes and goes, but has often gone when you need it most.
Every day during my time with Jack, we would work on some of the problems he was having, we would have a meal together and then he would nap, pretty much worn out. My five hour stretches were the longest periods of time that anyone was able to be with him. Every time I left, I felt a bit guilty, almost afraid of what I’d find when I returned. I got the impression that he was anxious too, wondering how he would get by.
So, I’ve gotten a chance to watch Jack suffer, mentally and physically. He has had to give up every shred of dignity as we women do things for him that he would much rather do for himself. But I have yet to hear a word of complaint, or even of anger really, Somewhere along his life path, Jack has learned to suffer well. As I watch, I think how valuable an example that is. We all will suffer something, sometime, and have to decide how to view that suffering, how to act when we are in the middle of it. Can we learn and grow from it or is it a waste of time?
I found a caregiver who will stay the night with Jack, starting tonight. As he was meeting her he seemed more hopeful, stronger, more able to talk. Maybe he will work through this hard time and gain his independence once again. At the very least, I think he will get a good night’s rest. I will also rest better tonight.
Have you learned something valuable from a time of suffering in your life? or from watching someone else suffer well?
In spite of having people who endorse me for my wellness and nutrition advice on LinkedIn, I love cake. Not healthy, nutritious cake (oh sure, like there’s healthy cake…) but ordinary white cake with blue and green frosting. Like this cake.
It’s not overwhelmingly sweet, it’s soft, easy to eat, not at all filling – pure fluff and nonsense. I’m away from home in a somewhat captive environment and am hoping I don’t eat the rest of this before the day is through. Help me.
I Just Have to Say... 