This Is What Love Looks Like

These are strangers to me. They were coming out the door of physical therapy as I was going in. Her leg is in a cast from the knee down, and she's got a walker thing on rollers that she rests her knee on. He opened the door for her, asking "Honey did it hurt a lot?" as they went past me.

That's when I saw it. Her purse.

Pink, with tassles and glitter and geegaws my pic above doesn't convey. I couldn't get my phone to load fast enough to get a close up.

Her purse, slung over his shoulder without a second thought, as he helps her down the sidewalk to their car. The concern on his face is priceless, and the tenderness in that one act, just holding her ridiculous and awesome girly purse without a care made me almost cry. I heard him in a distance ask her if she wanted to go get some ice cream. Heck yes I bet she did.

That's what love looks like. It's isn't lingerie or perfectly clean homes, it isn't fancy dinners or even an ideal life. It's messy, it's clumsy, and sometimes it's hurty.

Real love will always carry your purse.
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This Is What Love Looks Like

These are strangers to me. They were coming out the door of physical therapy as I was going in. Her leg is in a cast from the knee down, and she's got a walker thing on rollers that she rests her knee on. He opened the door for her, asking "Honey did it hurt a lot?" as they went past me.

That's when I saw it. Her purse.

Pink, with tassles and glitter and geegaws my pic above doesn't convey. I couldn't get my phone to load fast enough to get a close up.

Her purse, slung over his shoulder without a second thought, as he helps her down the sidewalk to their car. The concern on his face is priceless, and the tenderness in that one act, just holding her ridiculous and awesome girly purse without a care made me almost cry. I heard him in a distance ask her if she wanted to go get some ice cream. Heck yes I bet she did.

That's what love looks like. It's isn't lingerie or perfectly clean homes, it isn't fancy dinners or even an ideal life. It's messy, it's clumsy, and sometimes it's hurty.

Real love will always carry your purse.
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The Fifity for Rikki and The Loop for Lucas

This is a posting for my Hoosier friends who still read the blog about an important event that you can take part in and make a positive impact in your community.

It's an event organized by my brother and sister in law with the help of lots of people they know, to celebrate the lives to two people who were special to them, Rikki and Lucas, who lost their lives in a car accident in July. They were motivated to do something to celebrate the life of their friend and her young son, and in doing so have put together a wonderful event to help other families.

The Fifty for Rikki and Loop for Lucas takes place on October 6th and you do need to hop on that link to sign up to participate. The event directly benefits The Indiana Organ Procurement Organization.

Rikki and Lucas are gone forever, but their organs were able to be donated, so that others might have a chance to have days like these, sitting happily in the arms of someone they love on a sunshiney day.

This is Rikki with Lucas what I understand is a few weeks before they died. 

If you're close, I urge you to participate to celebrate the lives of these special people.

I didn't know them. But it doesn't really matter, now does it?

Come on Hoosiers. Let's ride.

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The Fifity for Rikki and The Loop for Lucas

This is a posting for my Hoosier friends who still read the blog about an important event that you can take part in and make a positive impact in your community.

It's an event organized by my brother and sister in law with the help of lots of people they know, to celebrate the lives to two people who were special to them, Rikki and Lucas, who lost their lives in a car accident in July. They were motivated to do something to celebrate the life of their friend and her young son, and in doing so have put together a wonderful event to help other families.

The Fifty for Rikki and Loop for Lucas takes place on October 6th and you do need to hop on that link to sign up to participate. The event directly benefits The Indiana Organ Procurement Organization.

Rikki and Lucas are gone forever, but their organs were able to be donated, so that others might have a chance to have days like these, sitting happily in the arms of someone they love on a sunshiney day.

This is Rikki with Lucas what I understand is a few weeks before they died. 

If you're close, I urge you to participate to celebrate the lives of these special people.

I didn't know them. But it doesn't really matter, now does it?

Come on Hoosiers. Let's ride.

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The Breathing of a Nine Year Old

As the days have remained warm, my kids have suddenly gotten a cough and the sniffles that adds up to a cold. I took one boy to the minute clinic just to make sure it wasn't a sinus infection, his cough had gotten worse, and his snot was worse and things seemed to need dealt with. They said "it's allergies maybe a cold, move along, move along."

I think all parents have their thing though. My "thing" is, I have to be able to hear them breathe. I can tell who is coughing, who is snoring, who is mumbling in their sleep from the next room. It was hard sleeping in the earplugs some nights for just this reason, I couldn't hear them breathe.

As new babies, they slept next to me in bassinets where the rhythm of their breathing was my lullaby. The sound of my children breathing in sleep is one of the most comforting, relaxing sounds in the world to me.

Then you can image my surprise when, on going in to lay down with the twins who had decided to start screaming at 6am, I heard the most horrible rattling from the 9 year old's lungs. I could hear the fluid, hear the bronchial tubes failing to fill, as he sucked in his air too fast and too hard over and over.

I got him his inhaler and felt his forehead and he mumbled that his lungs hurt.

He went back to sleep, breathing only slightly better, and I lay down below him on the bunk covered in 8 year old twins. But instead of sleeping, I was listening. Listening to him breathe.

I'm asthmatic. It's my terror, not to be able to breathe, to drown in my own lungs, to be gasping for air with lungs that just won't work. I hate it that I passed that along to my sweet and gentle boy but I did.

Sure as you like, we ended up at Children's Hospital of Atlanta a short time later where they immediately confirmed that he'd gone to pneumonia. As quick as that, overnight, from just a bit congested to pneumonia.

My poor boy spent his Labor Day weekend laid up, not having fun, and taking medicine that was liquid instead of pills - his manhood was insulted I believe. He's 9 you know. He can swallow pills. I've been reminded this 500 times.

I think since he's bitching, he must be getting better.

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The Breathing of a Nine Year Old

As the days have remained warm, my kids have suddenly gotten a cough and the sniffles that adds up to a cold. I took one boy to the minute clinic just to make sure it wasn't a sinus infection, his cough had gotten worse, and his snot was worse and things seemed to need dealt with. They said "it's allergies maybe a cold, move along, move along."

I think all parents have their thing though. My "thing" is, I have to be able to hear them breathe. I can tell who is coughing, who is snoring, who is mumbling in their sleep from the next room. It was hard sleeping in the earplugs some nights for just this reason, I couldn't hear them breathe.

As new babies, they slept next to me in bassinets where the rhythm of their breathing was my lullaby. The sound of my children breathing in sleep is one of the most comforting, relaxing sounds in the world to me.

Then you can image my surprise when, on going in to lay down with the twins who had decided to start screaming at 6am, I heard the most horrible rattling from the 9 year old's lungs. I could hear the fluid, hear the bronchial tubes failing to fill, as he sucked in his air too fast and too hard over and over.

I got him his inhaler and felt his forehead and he mumbled that his lungs hurt.

He went back to sleep, breathing only slightly better, and I lay down below him on the bunk covered in 8 year old twins. But instead of sleeping, I was listening. Listening to him breathe.

I'm asthmatic. It's my terror, not to be able to breathe, to drown in my own lungs, to be gasping for air with lungs that just won't work. I hate it that I passed that along to my sweet and gentle boy but I did.

Sure as you like, we ended up at Children's Hospital of Atlanta a short time later where they immediately confirmed that he'd gone to pneumonia. As quick as that, overnight, from just a bit congested to pneumonia.

My poor boy spent his Labor Day weekend laid up, not having fun, and taking medicine that was liquid instead of pills - his manhood was insulted I believe. He's 9 you know. He can swallow pills. I've been reminded this 500 times.

I think since he's bitching, he must be getting better.

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The Ultimate Hand-Me-Down

With four children I find hand-me-downs to be one of the worlds greatest ideas. When I had the oldest boy, I was 34 and had two GIANT baby showers most of which bestowed on me tons of clothes, which then were handily worn by my twins 19 months later. Passing clothes down for someone else to wear is probably the worlds original recycling effort.
But we've got one hand-me-down around these parts that is better loved than any other.

I know where it came from. It was given to me at a baby shower at my job, a blue and white baby jammie with a Peter Pan collar (seen above flipped us cuz it's the 80s I guess). My oldest boy wore it, and then my twins wore it. It got put into a box of old clothes, I'm pretty sure but then somehow it came out one day. Or maybe it didn't make the cut and somehow the kids got ahold of it.

Regardless, one Christmas, Santa brought my oldest son a Cabbage Patch doll (named Jamil Cesar, no really that's his name) and one of the first things we had to do was make sure Jamil had jammies for night time. My son drug out these blue and white jammies and swaddled him up. It's been an on and off tradition, swaddling Jamil into his jammies. Mostly these days Jamil is naked and tossed off somewhere, and the jammies on a bed or on the floor.

I guess Jamil gets hot and takes them off.

But last night as we were wrapping up stories with our traditional Good Night Moon, Julia spies the jammies and brings them over. "Tigger needs jammies Mommy, it's night night."

So now Tigger wears the jammies, and it's another child to love these silly blue baby jammies. I should thank whoever bought them but I can't recall WHO it was. They seem magical, whomever my children love must wear them.

Thanks whoever bought them. They make me smile every time I see them.

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The Ultimate Hand-Me-Down

With four children I find hand-me-downs to be one of the worlds greatest ideas. When I had the oldest boy, I was 34 and had two GIANT baby showers most of which bestowed on me tons of clothes, which then were handily worn by my twins 19 months later. Passing clothes down for someone else to wear is probably the worlds original recycling effort.
But we've got one hand-me-down around these parts that is better loved than any other.

I know where it came from. It was given to me at a baby shower at my job, a blue and white baby jammie with a Peter Pan collar (seen above flipped us cuz it's the 80s I guess). My oldest boy wore it, and then my twins wore it. It got put into a box of old clothes, I'm pretty sure but then somehow it came out one day. Or maybe it didn't make the cut and somehow the kids got ahold of it.

Regardless, one Christmas, Santa brought my oldest son a Cabbage Patch doll (named Jamil Cesar, no really that's his name) and one of the first things we had to do was make sure Jamil had jammies for night time. My son drug out these blue and white jammies and swaddled him up. It's been an on and off tradition, swaddling Jamil into his jammies. Mostly these days Jamil is naked and tossed off somewhere, and the jammies on a bed or on the floor.

I guess Jamil gets hot and takes them off.

But last night as we were wrapping up stories with our traditional Good Night Moon, Julia spies the jammies and brings them over. "Tigger needs jammies Mommy, it's night night."

So now Tigger wears the jammies, and it's another child to love these silly blue baby jammies. I should thank whoever bought them but I can't recall WHO it was. They seem magical, whomever my children love must wear them.

Thanks whoever bought them. They make me smile every time I see them.

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A Funny Thing Happened to My Cardiac Test Results

So you might recall as they were trying to diagnose my Brain Cloud they sent me to get a bunch of tests on my heart.  I had an abnormal EKG and plus the brain cloud, so it was medical testing for me.

Well, first of all, when I went to my general practitioner about my foot, way back when but after the heart test, I said "So umm, what about all my cardiac results?" and he said "Oh, you know, they didn't send them to me."

He said he'd have them sent over and call me if there were any problems.

So that was MAY. Since then, I've pretty much just gone on with the litany of OTHER doctors and life and my foot and the brain cloud and whatever, I figured they would've called if there was a problem.

Imagine my surprise when my husband, at the doctor because he was having some chest pain (not a heart attack thankfully) was at the doctor and asked about my results. The doctor looked them up, they called me and I learned that, my results are - there are no results.

The report ACTUALLY says "the physical stress test was stopped because ..." and it ends.

The test wasn't stopped. It wasn't stopped AT ALL. They did ALL THE TESTS. And there are NO RESULTS.

I'm sort of flailing. I know without a doubt that this is going to be a huge fight, because my insurance company won't want to PAY to get them all re-done yet I am betting that is EXACTLY what needs to happen. And I'm not paying. The hospital probably gave my damned test results to someone else which means it's screwed up in their computer system.

What annoys me the most is, there could be something wrong and I'm just rolling around here like a fucking time bomb with no notice. It's such ridiculous incompetence I can't even see straight. How do they say they didn't do tests that they ABSOLUTELY DID DO.

The only answer to me is that, they simply either entered my info on someone elses, and vice versa, or they just entered the wrong info altogether for some unknowable reason.

Color me annoyed.
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A Funny Thing Happened to My Cardiac Test Results

So you might recall as they were trying to diagnose my Brain Cloud they sent me to get a bunch of tests on my heart.  I had an abnormal EKG and plus the brain cloud, so it was medical testing for me.

Well, first of all, when I went to my general practitioner about my foot, way back when but after the heart test, I said "So umm, what about all my cardiac results?" and he said "Oh, you know, they didn't send them to me."

He said he'd have them sent over and call me if there were any problems.

So that was MAY. Since then, I've pretty much just gone on with the litany of OTHER doctors and life and my foot and the brain cloud and whatever, I figured they would've called if there was a problem.

Imagine my surprise when my husband, at the doctor because he was having some chest pain (not a heart attack thankfully) was at the doctor and asked about my results. The doctor looked them up, they called me and I learned that, my results are - there are no results.

The report ACTUALLY says "the physical stress test was stopped because ..." and it ends.

The test wasn't stopped. It wasn't stopped AT ALL. They did ALL THE TESTS. And there are NO RESULTS.

I'm sort of flailing. I know without a doubt that this is going to be a huge fight, because my insurance company won't want to PAY to get them all re-done yet I am betting that is EXACTLY what needs to happen. And I'm not paying. The hospital probably gave my damned test results to someone else which means it's screwed up in their computer system.

What annoys me the most is, there could be something wrong and I'm just rolling around here like a fucking time bomb with no notice. It's such ridiculous incompetence I can't even see straight. How do they say they didn't do tests that they ABSOLUTELY DID DO.

The only answer to me is that, they simply either entered my info on someone elses, and vice versa, or they just entered the wrong info altogether for some unknowable reason.

Color me annoyed.
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