Three days... they can fly by, drag agonizing slow or seem totally insignificant altogether. Truth be told, I had never given it much thought. I was sitting praying the other day when God laid on my heart to give up Facebook for three days. Three days? I thought, sure, why not? At least He wasn't asking me to fast for a week, like I had done before. I can't fast with food since I'm diabetic, so when it comes time to fast, I find I have to give up something else. One time it was soap operas. That was over a year and a half ago and I haven't watched one since. Talk about a week of fasting becoming a habit. Gave up daytime tv altogether, except for the occasional HGTV marathon on the weekend.
I really thought God was just going to show me how much time I was wasting on Facebook and how much I could get done if I wasn't sitting in front of the computer, etc. Yep, I thought I knew God pretty well and what lesson He was going to teach me. Imagine my surprise when the "lesson" I learned was more about Him and had far less to do with me.
In all honesty, y'all know that I've been lamenting on our circumstances and being stuck in the winepress for far too long. It's been one thing after another and quite frankly, I will admit that there are times that I really wondered if God forgot about us altogether. I'd pray, I'd listen for His still, small voice and hear... nothing. I couldn't see God, I couldn't hear God and I couldn't feel God. I felt abandoned at times and yet somehow I still managed to believe. I still had hope and I still had my faith. I really guessed that I didn't "need" anything more. Isn't that we Christians have been taught all our lives to believe anyway? We shouldn't "need" any confirmation or anything more from God than what already was paid for at the cross?
So as I was sitting there praying, I was thinking about the upcoming Easter season and really grateful in my heart for all that Jesus did for us by going to that cross. I felt the grief in my heart of Him having to make that trek to the cross and the pure torture He endured until His moment of death. I rejoiced in my tears as I contemplated His resurrection on Easter Sunday. I've done this many, many times over the years, but this time what I was led to think about was the three days in between. I'd learned the lessons in Sunday school and thought I knew all about it but He was going to teach me a lesson this year that I hadn't seen coming. Three days. He was saying "none of you know what I did for those three days, nor will you, but let me show you what three days can be."
I wasn't making my usual posts on facebook to let you know what I was doing and quite frankly, I don't know what y'all were doing either. It was hard not to "just sneak a peek" to catch up, trying to justify it to God (um, yeah, I know) that I was just going to see if anyone had any prayer requests. But a deal was a deal and you really can't cheat with God. At first it was no big deal, but I found that when you have time to just spend with Jesus, He uses it. He showed me how well He did know how it felt to not see, speak to, hear from or feel the Father. He also showed me that while y'all didn't know what I was doing and I had no way of knowing what y'all were doing - things were still happening in the physical realm and spiritual realm. Same as it did over 2000 years ago. For three days He was incommunicado. We know that those who loved Him were mourning His death. They wanted to believe that what He had told them would come true, that He was going to reign as King and deliver them from all their adversaries, but let's face it - they had their doubts at that point. They thought their hope and promises died with Him. They thought it was all over and all they had to do was wait on their own day to leave this world. I've been able to relate to their feelings. What I never really thought about was what He was doing during that time. Wish I could tell you that He filled me in on all the details but He didn't. What He did show me is that He was up to something. There has been conjecture throughout history of what He did and we have been told of a few moments of that time, but we really don't know ALL that He did.
I do know that perspective can have a lot to do with how you are looking at a situation. I'm sure it was a very long three days for the followers in their grief. I know that to someone who is facing death, three days can fly by. I know that watching a loved one die can be both agonizingly slow because of their suffering and yet so quick because you can't stop it from coming. I know that to those who are just toodling through life, three days doesn't matter. Imagine having an eternity of "business" to take care of in three days. That's what Jesus did ~ for us. He had an assignment straight from God that He had to fulfill. We don't know the details ~ they were marked top secret for His eyes only. I can't even imagine how quick those three days flew by for Him, especially when compared to the timeline of eternity. At moments during my three days of fasting from Facebook, I felt all of the above and I came out of those three days a little more cognizant of what not only was accomplished on the cross itself, but in the work that must have been done in the three days after.
I'm grateful that I don't feel led to give up Facebook altogether. I'd really have a hard time with that since it's so much a part of my life now and I really love keeping up on all y'all. I am going to try and not spend quite so much time on here, so if you need me to see something, either tag me on it or send me a message. I won't always be able to keep up (as I'm finding out just trying to see what I missed... talk about Mission Impossible). I'm also grateful that God knew what I "needed" and chose to give me one of His Holy nudges to let me know that He's really still there, just like He's always been, and just like I don't know what was being done during those three days on my behalf, I can rest knowing without a doubt that He had it all planned out then and He has it all planned out now. As for what Jesus did for those three days after the crucifiction until the resurrection, well, it's one more question to add to my list to ask Him when I get to heaven... right after I'm through standing in line to slap Eve for ever having eaten that apple to begin with.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
I Wish Him Well
Today, or since the hour is late, more appropriately, yesterday, my ex brother-in-law got remarried. From what I've heard, to a wonderful girl named Lauren. I am truly happy for him and wish him nothing but the absolute best. My nephews still live at home with him and from what I've gathered, they seem to really like her and that is good. They all live in a big house with his parents as well, although I don't know for how much longer. I do know he and his new bride were looking for a house in another town close by and selling their respective houses. Not sure where his parents will go since they are getting up in years.
After all is said and done, I really miss them. For many years they've been family to me. Funny how that happens in divorces. Sometimes the ones caught in the crosshairs have little to do with what happened and even less knowledge about it and yet they're cut out too. It wasn't done maliciously, mostly because we lived in different parts of the country and talking seemed awkward at best and downright disloyal at times, although it shouldn't have been thought that way. I don't know the detail of the breakup between my sisiter and her husband. She never volunteered the info and I never asked. A few times he called me trying to get info that I honestly didn't have, so I of course got dragged into it kicking and screaming. Sad thing is that I loved them both - and all their warts and flaws. I could see both sides. I hoped they could work it out and yet knew somehow that wasn't going to happen.
I'm glad he moved on. I'm glad he found someone that he feels he can spend the rest of his life with. I hate being on the outside. I love his parents - they became like parents to me too since mine had long since passed away. I'd love to call them and one of these days I will. I just wanted the wedding to be behind - somehow I think it will make it easier. Plus it will give us something to talk about. I hope his new bride treats him well, I hope he finishes projects he agrees to do for her. I hope they do things together, as a family, and find time to laugh. The boys are older now with lives of their own but I hope that they forge memories that will last a lifetime. I love them all. I didn't divorce them, although sometimes it feels like I was forced to sign papers to stay away. I hope that's not the case. We'll see.
So Cheers, my friend, as you embark on the next chapter of your life. May the road be smooth enough to sail into the sunset but bumpy enough to add interest along the way. ((hugs)) and love to my "old" family. Miss you and can't wait to see the pictures. God Bless.. <3 <3 <3 Congratulations to the groom; best wishes to the bride.... always.
After all is said and done, I really miss them. For many years they've been family to me. Funny how that happens in divorces. Sometimes the ones caught in the crosshairs have little to do with what happened and even less knowledge about it and yet they're cut out too. It wasn't done maliciously, mostly because we lived in different parts of the country and talking seemed awkward at best and downright disloyal at times, although it shouldn't have been thought that way. I don't know the detail of the breakup between my sisiter and her husband. She never volunteered the info and I never asked. A few times he called me trying to get info that I honestly didn't have, so I of course got dragged into it kicking and screaming. Sad thing is that I loved them both - and all their warts and flaws. I could see both sides. I hoped they could work it out and yet knew somehow that wasn't going to happen.
I'm glad he moved on. I'm glad he found someone that he feels he can spend the rest of his life with. I hate being on the outside. I love his parents - they became like parents to me too since mine had long since passed away. I'd love to call them and one of these days I will. I just wanted the wedding to be behind - somehow I think it will make it easier. Plus it will give us something to talk about. I hope his new bride treats him well, I hope he finishes projects he agrees to do for her. I hope they do things together, as a family, and find time to laugh. The boys are older now with lives of their own but I hope that they forge memories that will last a lifetime. I love them all. I didn't divorce them, although sometimes it feels like I was forced to sign papers to stay away. I hope that's not the case. We'll see.
So Cheers, my friend, as you embark on the next chapter of your life. May the road be smooth enough to sail into the sunset but bumpy enough to add interest along the way. ((hugs)) and love to my "old" family. Miss you and can't wait to see the pictures. God Bless.. <3 <3 <3 Congratulations to the groom; best wishes to the bride.... always.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Pulmonary Fibrosis and Why We Need Prayer
A Snapshot of the Disease
That's the factual side. There is a whole other personal side as well. I live with this, day in and day out. I cannot turn it off or walk away from it. Each day I see it progressively robbing more and more of my life - more and more of me. It started a few years back when I noticed that I seemed to be getting winded much quicker than I ever had before. At first I just chalked it up to being overweight and getting a little older. I mentioned it to my doctor but he didn't seem too concerned, so neither was I. It kept getting worse and somewhere along the way, I picked up a little cough. It wasn't producing anything and it wasn't all the time, but it was there. My doctor showed a little more concern at that time and ordered a chest x-ray. Not particularly liking what he saw, he referred me to a pulmonologist who did a complete work up. My PFT's (pulmonary function tests) were down but nothing too alarming. He instructed me to lose weight and exercise more. So that's what I tried to do. I did lose a significant amount of weight (50 lbs) in a year but still my breathing was rough, so my primary sent me back to the pulmonologist. He again did the tests and they were down a bit more. My logic was that if it was due to weight, shouldn't they have improved or at the very least stayed the same? He did a CT scan but still attributed it to my weight - and not very nicely. Pretty much telling me my breathing problems were all in my head. Needless to say, I left there in tears vowing never to go back.
In the fall of 2008, I was scheduled to have carpal tunnel surgery and was going through the normal pre-op work up when something caught the attention of my doc on the EKG. He sent me for a complete cardio-pulmonary work up before he would sign off on okaying the surgery. Cardio came through fine but we ran into problems with the pulmonary. Ironically enough I had to go back to the office, that I vowed never to go in again, due to time constraints. I didn't have enough time before surgery to find a new pulmonologist. Mercifully I didn't have to see the same doc, but his partner. This time when they did the PFT's they were significantly reduced and everything else was stopped so that they could pursue that. The next few months led me through more CT scans, a bronchoscopy, alveolar lavage, and an open lung biopsy a week before Christmas. It was from that biopsy being sent to Mayo Clinic that I got my diagnosis and was delivered the news of a death sentence.
A month after the biopsy, I was able to finally join my husband in Tennessee and my records were transferred to Vanderbilt. While there is normally an eight to twelve month wait to get in to see them, I was able to see them within two months. For the last two years, they have tried different drugs to see if they could come up with some combination that would stall or slow the progression of the disease down. I have had bad reactions to each and every one and none of them helped with slowing it down. Since they weren't helping and were making me so sick, I've been taken off all but a maintenance dose of prednisone, partly in hopes of getting me ready for a lung transplant.
For the last 6 months, I've been going through testings and appointments to see about qualifying for a lung transplant. Things were moving along pretty well until last month when I lost my insurance because my COBRA ran out. I have automatically been disqualified from pursuing a lung transplant. I'm ok with that though, because I really wasn't sure that was the route I wanted to go anyway. Lung transplantation opens up a whole other can of worms and hardships - that will be another blog itself.
I'm struggling day by day. It's getting harder to breathe and I am having to use oxygen pretty much most of the time. I sleep with it all night, I cannot leave the house without it and whenever I do anything around the house, I have to have it on. If I'm just sitting here quietly on the computer, I try not to put it on, but even then there are times I must. It's hard on Oliver to watch his once very vibrant, active wife, just sit there sometimes gasping for breath. It's hard for me not to panic during those times, knowing that the day will come when I won't be able to recover. It's not so much the dying that scares me, but the suffocating and choking to death that does.
The lack of oxygen flowing through my blood is affecting other parts of my body as well. I have become quite forgetful and that is worrisome to me. I literally can watch something on tv and an hour later not remember watching it. I forget when I've talked to people or when I go into another room, what I went in there for. I feel like that email that's been circulating for years about going to do one thing, getting distracted, etc. until you're right back where you started. That's not so funny to me anymore. My heart is stressed and it's beats are numbered. Sometimes it even hurts. Pain is magnified because the oxygen is not getting around the way it needs to. I sometimes fall asleep mid-sentence in a conversation. Falling asleep in church has become pretty standard. On my chair, daily. Oliver doesn't even try to wake me up anymore, he just turns off the light and covers me up. On the flip side, I have trouble sleeping at night. I can only get a couple of hours in at a time and it's fitful at best. Sometimes I'm just afraid to go to sleep, wondering if I'll wake up. I'm watching my life slip away and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I fight as hard as I can but I'm losing ground.
That's where the prayers come in. Somehow in the midst of all this struggle, I'm able to find peace and that's due to the prayers of friends and family. I know it's too late for a cure to be found in my lifetime. I'm a realist. But I do have a son and grandson that I care deeply for that I would hate to worry about them having to deal with this. I watched my own mom die a slow, painful death of what I think was the same thing I have - our symptoms are the same, but they didn't really know too much about PF back in 1974. It's hard enough to get the diagnosis today. We need God to step in. We need the funding for research so that treatments and ultimately a cure can be found. This deadly disease affects far more than you can imagine - both directly and indirectly. As you pray for me and my family, I too am praying that it does not touch yours but if it does, I pray a cure can be found swiftly so that you don't have to walk in the shoes that I've had to walk in and the ones that so many before me have. If you don't think your prayer can make a difference, think about this... a snowflake all by itself doesn't amount to much of anything, but look what happens when a bunch of them stick together. : ) Thanks and God Bless.
- The disease affects 200,000 Americans; alarmingly prevalence has increased as much as 150% percent since 2001
- The median survival rate is only 2 to 3 years, and more than 2/3 of patients will die within 5 years
- There is no FDA-approved treatment or cure for IPF
- An estimated 40,000 people die each year from IPF – one every 13 minutes (the same number that die annually from breast cancer)
- An estimated 48,000 new cases are diagnosed each year
- IPF can affect anyone, but the disease tends to affect men more than women; the mean age at the time of diagnosis is 60-70 but can occur at any age
- IPF is 5 to 6 times more common than cystic fibrosis, yet it remains virtually unknown to the public, many policymakers, and even some physicians
That's the factual side. There is a whole other personal side as well. I live with this, day in and day out. I cannot turn it off or walk away from it. Each day I see it progressively robbing more and more of my life - more and more of me. It started a few years back when I noticed that I seemed to be getting winded much quicker than I ever had before. At first I just chalked it up to being overweight and getting a little older. I mentioned it to my doctor but he didn't seem too concerned, so neither was I. It kept getting worse and somewhere along the way, I picked up a little cough. It wasn't producing anything and it wasn't all the time, but it was there. My doctor showed a little more concern at that time and ordered a chest x-ray. Not particularly liking what he saw, he referred me to a pulmonologist who did a complete work up. My PFT's (pulmonary function tests) were down but nothing too alarming. He instructed me to lose weight and exercise more. So that's what I tried to do. I did lose a significant amount of weight (50 lbs) in a year but still my breathing was rough, so my primary sent me back to the pulmonologist. He again did the tests and they were down a bit more. My logic was that if it was due to weight, shouldn't they have improved or at the very least stayed the same? He did a CT scan but still attributed it to my weight - and not very nicely. Pretty much telling me my breathing problems were all in my head. Needless to say, I left there in tears vowing never to go back.
In the fall of 2008, I was scheduled to have carpal tunnel surgery and was going through the normal pre-op work up when something caught the attention of my doc on the EKG. He sent me for a complete cardio-pulmonary work up before he would sign off on okaying the surgery. Cardio came through fine but we ran into problems with the pulmonary. Ironically enough I had to go back to the office, that I vowed never to go in again, due to time constraints. I didn't have enough time before surgery to find a new pulmonologist. Mercifully I didn't have to see the same doc, but his partner. This time when they did the PFT's they were significantly reduced and everything else was stopped so that they could pursue that. The next few months led me through more CT scans, a bronchoscopy, alveolar lavage, and an open lung biopsy a week before Christmas. It was from that biopsy being sent to Mayo Clinic that I got my diagnosis and was delivered the news of a death sentence.
A month after the biopsy, I was able to finally join my husband in Tennessee and my records were transferred to Vanderbilt. While there is normally an eight to twelve month wait to get in to see them, I was able to see them within two months. For the last two years, they have tried different drugs to see if they could come up with some combination that would stall or slow the progression of the disease down. I have had bad reactions to each and every one and none of them helped with slowing it down. Since they weren't helping and were making me so sick, I've been taken off all but a maintenance dose of prednisone, partly in hopes of getting me ready for a lung transplant.
For the last 6 months, I've been going through testings and appointments to see about qualifying for a lung transplant. Things were moving along pretty well until last month when I lost my insurance because my COBRA ran out. I have automatically been disqualified from pursuing a lung transplant. I'm ok with that though, because I really wasn't sure that was the route I wanted to go anyway. Lung transplantation opens up a whole other can of worms and hardships - that will be another blog itself.
I'm struggling day by day. It's getting harder to breathe and I am having to use oxygen pretty much most of the time. I sleep with it all night, I cannot leave the house without it and whenever I do anything around the house, I have to have it on. If I'm just sitting here quietly on the computer, I try not to put it on, but even then there are times I must. It's hard on Oliver to watch his once very vibrant, active wife, just sit there sometimes gasping for breath. It's hard for me not to panic during those times, knowing that the day will come when I won't be able to recover. It's not so much the dying that scares me, but the suffocating and choking to death that does.
The lack of oxygen flowing through my blood is affecting other parts of my body as well. I have become quite forgetful and that is worrisome to me. I literally can watch something on tv and an hour later not remember watching it. I forget when I've talked to people or when I go into another room, what I went in there for. I feel like that email that's been circulating for years about going to do one thing, getting distracted, etc. until you're right back where you started. That's not so funny to me anymore. My heart is stressed and it's beats are numbered. Sometimes it even hurts. Pain is magnified because the oxygen is not getting around the way it needs to. I sometimes fall asleep mid-sentence in a conversation. Falling asleep in church has become pretty standard. On my chair, daily. Oliver doesn't even try to wake me up anymore, he just turns off the light and covers me up. On the flip side, I have trouble sleeping at night. I can only get a couple of hours in at a time and it's fitful at best. Sometimes I'm just afraid to go to sleep, wondering if I'll wake up. I'm watching my life slip away and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I fight as hard as I can but I'm losing ground.
That's where the prayers come in. Somehow in the midst of all this struggle, I'm able to find peace and that's due to the prayers of friends and family. I know it's too late for a cure to be found in my lifetime. I'm a realist. But I do have a son and grandson that I care deeply for that I would hate to worry about them having to deal with this. I watched my own mom die a slow, painful death of what I think was the same thing I have - our symptoms are the same, but they didn't really know too much about PF back in 1974. It's hard enough to get the diagnosis today. We need God to step in. We need the funding for research so that treatments and ultimately a cure can be found. This deadly disease affects far more than you can imagine - both directly and indirectly. As you pray for me and my family, I too am praying that it does not touch yours but if it does, I pray a cure can be found swiftly so that you don't have to walk in the shoes that I've had to walk in and the ones that so many before me have. If you don't think your prayer can make a difference, think about this... a snowflake all by itself doesn't amount to much of anything, but look what happens when a bunch of them stick together. : ) Thanks and God Bless.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
My Rope is Unraveling
"When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." I've heard that quote all my life. I've also heard the Christian version - "When you get to the end of your rope - let go and let God." Words. You read them and you nod as they make some sense somewhere in the recesses of your mind. Then life throws you curve ball after curve ball and they are no longer just words but become your life's mission. I gotta admit my rope is unraveling and the finger nails that I have been hanging on with the last bit of my being are cracking, splitting, peeling and breaking. I'm done.
I've been through a lot in my life. Through more things than I even care to bring to the forefront of my mind and I have always been an overcomer and come back stronger. For the first time in my life, I feel knocked down and not sure I have the energy to get back up. I know all the verses in the Bible that are there to bring me encouragement and hope and I try, really try, to let them rise up in me and help me stay afloat, but lately that's becoming harder and harder for me to do. It's spring, with all it's growth and fullness and promise of warmer weather to come. Usually a time of year that I'm outside soaking up every ray of sun that I can get, puttering in the yard, getting that feeling of satisfaction of a job well done and the kind of ache in your muscles that you just KNOW you've put in a good day's work. I just don't have the energy anymore, or the strength. I sit in my chair looking at all the things that need to be done and then just have to look away. I can't do it anymore.
I just feel like such a burden. My expenses are high and I am unable to generate any income at all. I've been denied social security disability many times - first because I didn't have the correct diagnosis and they didn't think I was sick enough, now because I don't have enough recent credits - and I've been told there is nothing more I can do until I am 65. I won't make it to 65. It's only by the grace of God that I've made it to 55. Pulmonary Fibrosis does not let you live that long. We don't know the cause of my PF and mercifully it doesn't seem to be the fast acting kind but it's eating my body away none-the-less. Without being declared disabled by SS or a senior by age alone, I am not qualified to receive any state assistance either. I now have no health or life insurance since my COBRA has run out. I am uninsurable. Oh there is ONE company willing to underwrite a policy for me for $2300 a month and a $5000 deductible. No can do on only $1500 in social security that my husband is able to now able to draw. And we do thank God for that. Problem is that it is not enough. Not with the mortgage alone being $1000 a month. That leaves $500 a month for food, utilities, medicines, life....
I feel like I have become a burden to the world and mostly to my husband. It's hard because we have both worked so hard all our lives and played by the rules. We have never cut corners or reached beyond our means. Honestly I don't remember even once where I haven't bought something on sale. We've been good stewards of what we've had. We've taken only three vacations in 32 years. We're just now, in the last few years, homeowners. And we're losing it all. Our savings is gone, our credit cards are maxed out and we're living in a deficit every month. We'd sell the house, but we cannot get near enough out of it to break even. We're here until they kick us out and then truthfully, don't know where to go. My meds, with insurance, ran about $350 a month and I don't even want to know what the cost will be now without insurance. I'm good for another month or so because I stocked up as I could. My oxygen alone - the home concentrator and portable tanks - run about $600 a month. I haven't even been able to pay the co-pay, let alone the full bill. I have collection agencies calling each day - and mercifully they're mostly recordings and somehow easier to hang up on. I just don't have it to pay them. It stresses me no end. I've become one of "those people."
We went out on a limb and bought a portable oxygen concentrator through a friend on facebook. She was great and gave me a really good deal. Problem is that now that we got it, it doesn't work. I don't for one minute think she sent me an unworking maching on purpose - her dad died from Pulmonary Fibrosis - but whether it was because her boyfriend used an unauthorized charger or something happened in transit, I don't know. We used every penny of our income tax refund to buy it - $1100. I need to send it in to be fixed but I don't know where and quite frankly don't have the money. So now I'm feeling guilty for having had the need to spend what little money we had for medical equipment that doesn't work. Sigh. Gratefully they haven't pulled my other machines but I'm sure that day is coming as soon as they know that they won't be getting any money from my old insurance company.
I feel bad for Oliver. He's had to retire. One, he just hasn't been able to find another job here in the last year and a half and now, quite frankly, I think he's afraid to leave me alone. The lack of oxygen to my brain has affected my mind. I do get forgetful and moving about the house has become more difficult. I will only take a shower or bath when I know he's in the house because I lose my balance so easily and I don't want to become like one of those commercials where "I've fallen and can't get up." Thanks to the goodness of friends, I now wear a medical bracelet that has my whole medical history on it so if something was to happen and Oliver isn't close by, medical personnel can access the info and treat me accordingly. That is a great peace of mind.
Somewhere in all this I've lost me. I can no longer be or do the things that I loved to do. The physical things because I don't have the oxygen enough to make my body run efficiently and the mental things because my mind is slipping into an abyss of darkness that I'm afraid one day I won't be able to come out of. My emotions are raw and I find it harder and harder to just laugh each day. I sit here and look at the dust piling up on the furniture and am helpless to do anything about it. Occasionally I do have a burst of energy and am able to take the duster and move it around, but those days are far and few between. Mostly I have to fight the urge to just write "sorry" in the dust. Oliver has been great about doing what he can around here but let's face it - his idea of clean and mine are not exactly the same. I appreciate his efforts, I feel guilty because all I can do is watch him. I see the stress aging him and that makes me feel terrible. He feels helpless because he can't make me better. We thank God for Charlie as a way to break up the stress.
There are days when just the action of getting up and getting myself a glass of water is enough to take my breath away for over an hour. If you were to see me sitting here and were here in my living room, you'd probably not even know I was sick - unless of course you looked at the oxygen paraphenalia that is flanking me. I can even sit here and hold conversations and be fine. But let me get up to go to the bathroom and by the time I come back, I'm sucking on that oxygen tubing to beat the band. I'm down because I no longer have any medical support. For all intensive purposes, Vanderbilt has "fired" me because I no longer have insurance. I can't get any financial assistance from them because - get this - Oliver draws social security and that's too much income for two people with no children under 18 at home. Yeah well, I'm certainly not going to try and have a kid now just to get some assistance from Vanderbilt - even if that were even physically possible.
I do have my local Physician's Assistant who helps me keep my prescriptions current but she really doesn't know what to do for me beyond that. My disease is way out of her area of expertise and she's too busy with the everyday ills of her other patients to find out. I have tried every program, every company, every foundation, every everything that I've been able to find in my research to try and get help and have come up with nothing. Oh they all feel my pain, but are helpless according to their "rules". We couldn't even get food stamps. I literally feel my life slipping away inch by painful inch. I do not feel like a contributing member of society anymore and that hurts the most. I've become a burden and that is certainly not something this independent woman of Scottish and Norwegian descent ever thought would happen. My world has fallen apart and I can no longer seem to cling to the rope that I've been on for 55 years. I feel like I'm pulling the people around me down with me. Lately it's been hard to wake up in the morning. Where once it was "Thank-you God for another beautiful day and another chance at life", it's now become "Oh God, I'm still alive, now what?"
My lifeline has been the computer and quite frankly, facebook. Just being able to keep in touch with others and to see them living their lives makes my whole day. I play Farmville and FarmTown and they help me with pain management. I'm able to research and be able to make informed medical decisions on my own, which has come in handy since I no longer have doctors to help me do that. My days aren't all doom and gloom, I do smile. I try, I really do try, to find the good side of things and hang on to those. I don't know how much longer I have on this round sphere we call earth or what my purpose is, but for whatever reason, I guess God isn't ready for me yet. It's hard to have to live in a bubble of sorts. What is a simple cold to someone can literally kill me if I catch it. I've had two PF friends who that exact thing happened to within the last month and I've heard story after story of others who have lost loved ones that quickly to this disease. It's like living as a ticking time bomb. You can be toodling around seemingly fine one day and gone the next. It's hard to live with that on your shoulders. It's hard knowing on the days that I'm struggling to breathe even with the oxygen that the day will come when I will no longer recover. It's hard not to panic and something I'm really working hard on. It's hard to know that at any point, because I also have pulmonary hypertension, that my heart can just blow out. There is a fine line between getting the exercise you need and overdoing it. Getting it wrong can literally be a killer. That's a lot of pressure - literally and physically.
I admit that I am overwhelmed. I'm a fighter and have been all my life but the fight is slowly fading out of me. Between the physical assault on my body and mind and the financial stresses and the concern about what the future (if I have any future left) holds. We've come to the conclusion that it may be time to leave Adamsville. Truth be told, the idea of living closer to my grandson and the beach is sounding better and better each day. It won't be easy. First we have to try and get out of this house. Our credit is ruined from the medical bills that have piled up and we haven't been able to pay plus the fact that our credit cards are now maxed out - from everyday living expenses. And we have no idea how we'd pay to get our stuff down there or whether we'll even be able to rent a place. So many unknowns. I'll hate to leave here because I have loved it so but I don't feel I belong here anymore. Friendships have waned and been stressed because it's hard on them when you have to live with these circumstances. I can't blame them for not coming around - it's hard to watch me struggle for things everybody takes for granted. It's hard for Oliver to watch and except for the times he takes Charlie for a walk, he has to. It's hard on my son, Dan, who doesn't even call because quite frankly, he doesn't know what to say. It hurts that he doesn't call, but I do understand. I can no longer hide the dark sides of this disease. I can't hide the pain as I grimace from movement and I certainly can't hide the times that I have to hook up to the oxygen, which has become more and more frequent. I even have to sleep with it now. We do still have our small group from church and they are wonderful. They bring a smile to my face and make me feel just a little bit human for a couple of hours every couple of weeks. We love them.
The good thing about being let go from Vanderbilt is that I no longer have to worry about living within 3 hours of Nashville. Since being automatically disqualified for a lung transplant due to no insurance, that option is off the table and that was the only option I had of beating this thing called Pulmonary Fibrosis. But that leaves us free to literally move wherever we want to, well, at least in our heads. There are days when I'd love to be down by the beach near my grandson and then there are other days when I'd just like to get a motorhome and go check things off my bucket list. Away from the collection agency calls, away from all those things that keep you tied to terra firma. As long as we would be able to have a satellite hookup for tv and internet, we'd be set. I might even be able to assist in keeping a motorhome clean - much less overwhelming than the house. There are days when I dream of something as simple as owning a Motorola XOOM e-tablet. Since I like to read it would be neat to have a tablet to be able to do that with. It would be nice to be able to curl up in my chair and do all the things on the internet that I do. The laptop is just too heavy for me and awkward to do that with. I'd love to go on a cruise. I'd be happy living on a houseboat but I'm not sure Oliver could stomach it. I'd love to visit Hawaii but since flying can severely compromise my lungs, that option is definitely out. I know I wouldn't be able to just swim from Los Angeles to Honolulu - and back. Then I realize that these are ALL dreams that may never come true. Right now, in reality, I can only dream that the electric, water, food and meds are paid for today.
I mourn not being able to do all the things that I always thought I'd have later to do. I worked hard, sometimes too hard, and set aside my dreams and aspirations to be with my family. I always thought that I'd be able to travel when we retired and to have a nice house and be able to get a new car every 5 or 6 years or so. I'll never experience that new car smell again - well, unless I just go sit in one at the dealership. Quite frankly, I may not be able to do that since all kinds of smells now literally take my breath away. I hate the stares I get from people on those rare occasions when I do venture out. Most people are merciless, thinking I did something to myself that caused me to be sick - like it was my choice to be this way. I didn't. I hate that kids now feel they have to hide behind their parents because they are afraid of the oxygen tanks and tubing, which make me sound like Darth Vader. That breaks my heart because I have always loved kids and had a special connection with them. Where once I saw smiles, now I only see fear.
I'm not looking to invite anyone to my pity party. I don't even stay here long myself, if I can help it. Quite frankly, I don't even know what more I want out of life. I guess my biggest thing would be to have some kind of security. I'd like to put all my concentration into fighting this disease and into believing that perhaps, just perhaps, the doctors got it all wrong and I have something else - something curable. I'd like to beat the odds that are stacked up against me. That is my daily prayer. That somehow, some way, SOMETHING will just turn out ok. That at least one area in my so called life would just settle down and not be stirred. I'd like some calmer waters, please. In the meantime, I'll look out the dirty window at the sunshine and the trees and grass greening up and remember that there are seasons in everybody's life and that even winter can only hang on so long. Perhaps the rope unraveling is a good thing after all. Maybe, just maybe, it will be the opportunity to change the grip that will make all the difference. I sure hope and pray so.
I've been through a lot in my life. Through more things than I even care to bring to the forefront of my mind and I have always been an overcomer and come back stronger. For the first time in my life, I feel knocked down and not sure I have the energy to get back up. I know all the verses in the Bible that are there to bring me encouragement and hope and I try, really try, to let them rise up in me and help me stay afloat, but lately that's becoming harder and harder for me to do. It's spring, with all it's growth and fullness and promise of warmer weather to come. Usually a time of year that I'm outside soaking up every ray of sun that I can get, puttering in the yard, getting that feeling of satisfaction of a job well done and the kind of ache in your muscles that you just KNOW you've put in a good day's work. I just don't have the energy anymore, or the strength. I sit in my chair looking at all the things that need to be done and then just have to look away. I can't do it anymore.
I just feel like such a burden. My expenses are high and I am unable to generate any income at all. I've been denied social security disability many times - first because I didn't have the correct diagnosis and they didn't think I was sick enough, now because I don't have enough recent credits - and I've been told there is nothing more I can do until I am 65. I won't make it to 65. It's only by the grace of God that I've made it to 55. Pulmonary Fibrosis does not let you live that long. We don't know the cause of my PF and mercifully it doesn't seem to be the fast acting kind but it's eating my body away none-the-less. Without being declared disabled by SS or a senior by age alone, I am not qualified to receive any state assistance either. I now have no health or life insurance since my COBRA has run out. I am uninsurable. Oh there is ONE company willing to underwrite a policy for me for $2300 a month and a $5000 deductible. No can do on only $1500 in social security that my husband is able to now able to draw. And we do thank God for that. Problem is that it is not enough. Not with the mortgage alone being $1000 a month. That leaves $500 a month for food, utilities, medicines, life....
I feel like I have become a burden to the world and mostly to my husband. It's hard because we have both worked so hard all our lives and played by the rules. We have never cut corners or reached beyond our means. Honestly I don't remember even once where I haven't bought something on sale. We've been good stewards of what we've had. We've taken only three vacations in 32 years. We're just now, in the last few years, homeowners. And we're losing it all. Our savings is gone, our credit cards are maxed out and we're living in a deficit every month. We'd sell the house, but we cannot get near enough out of it to break even. We're here until they kick us out and then truthfully, don't know where to go. My meds, with insurance, ran about $350 a month and I don't even want to know what the cost will be now without insurance. I'm good for another month or so because I stocked up as I could. My oxygen alone - the home concentrator and portable tanks - run about $600 a month. I haven't even been able to pay the co-pay, let alone the full bill. I have collection agencies calling each day - and mercifully they're mostly recordings and somehow easier to hang up on. I just don't have it to pay them. It stresses me no end. I've become one of "those people."
We went out on a limb and bought a portable oxygen concentrator through a friend on facebook. She was great and gave me a really good deal. Problem is that now that we got it, it doesn't work. I don't for one minute think she sent me an unworking maching on purpose - her dad died from Pulmonary Fibrosis - but whether it was because her boyfriend used an unauthorized charger or something happened in transit, I don't know. We used every penny of our income tax refund to buy it - $1100. I need to send it in to be fixed but I don't know where and quite frankly don't have the money. So now I'm feeling guilty for having had the need to spend what little money we had for medical equipment that doesn't work. Sigh. Gratefully they haven't pulled my other machines but I'm sure that day is coming as soon as they know that they won't be getting any money from my old insurance company.
I feel bad for Oliver. He's had to retire. One, he just hasn't been able to find another job here in the last year and a half and now, quite frankly, I think he's afraid to leave me alone. The lack of oxygen to my brain has affected my mind. I do get forgetful and moving about the house has become more difficult. I will only take a shower or bath when I know he's in the house because I lose my balance so easily and I don't want to become like one of those commercials where "I've fallen and can't get up." Thanks to the goodness of friends, I now wear a medical bracelet that has my whole medical history on it so if something was to happen and Oliver isn't close by, medical personnel can access the info and treat me accordingly. That is a great peace of mind.
Somewhere in all this I've lost me. I can no longer be or do the things that I loved to do. The physical things because I don't have the oxygen enough to make my body run efficiently and the mental things because my mind is slipping into an abyss of darkness that I'm afraid one day I won't be able to come out of. My emotions are raw and I find it harder and harder to just laugh each day. I sit here and look at the dust piling up on the furniture and am helpless to do anything about it. Occasionally I do have a burst of energy and am able to take the duster and move it around, but those days are far and few between. Mostly I have to fight the urge to just write "sorry" in the dust. Oliver has been great about doing what he can around here but let's face it - his idea of clean and mine are not exactly the same. I appreciate his efforts, I feel guilty because all I can do is watch him. I see the stress aging him and that makes me feel terrible. He feels helpless because he can't make me better. We thank God for Charlie as a way to break up the stress.
There are days when just the action of getting up and getting myself a glass of water is enough to take my breath away for over an hour. If you were to see me sitting here and were here in my living room, you'd probably not even know I was sick - unless of course you looked at the oxygen paraphenalia that is flanking me. I can even sit here and hold conversations and be fine. But let me get up to go to the bathroom and by the time I come back, I'm sucking on that oxygen tubing to beat the band. I'm down because I no longer have any medical support. For all intensive purposes, Vanderbilt has "fired" me because I no longer have insurance. I can't get any financial assistance from them because - get this - Oliver draws social security and that's too much income for two people with no children under 18 at home. Yeah well, I'm certainly not going to try and have a kid now just to get some assistance from Vanderbilt - even if that were even physically possible.
I do have my local Physician's Assistant who helps me keep my prescriptions current but she really doesn't know what to do for me beyond that. My disease is way out of her area of expertise and she's too busy with the everyday ills of her other patients to find out. I have tried every program, every company, every foundation, every everything that I've been able to find in my research to try and get help and have come up with nothing. Oh they all feel my pain, but are helpless according to their "rules". We couldn't even get food stamps. I literally feel my life slipping away inch by painful inch. I do not feel like a contributing member of society anymore and that hurts the most. I've become a burden and that is certainly not something this independent woman of Scottish and Norwegian descent ever thought would happen. My world has fallen apart and I can no longer seem to cling to the rope that I've been on for 55 years. I feel like I'm pulling the people around me down with me. Lately it's been hard to wake up in the morning. Where once it was "Thank-you God for another beautiful day and another chance at life", it's now become "Oh God, I'm still alive, now what?"
My lifeline has been the computer and quite frankly, facebook. Just being able to keep in touch with others and to see them living their lives makes my whole day. I play Farmville and FarmTown and they help me with pain management. I'm able to research and be able to make informed medical decisions on my own, which has come in handy since I no longer have doctors to help me do that. My days aren't all doom and gloom, I do smile. I try, I really do try, to find the good side of things and hang on to those. I don't know how much longer I have on this round sphere we call earth or what my purpose is, but for whatever reason, I guess God isn't ready for me yet. It's hard to have to live in a bubble of sorts. What is a simple cold to someone can literally kill me if I catch it. I've had two PF friends who that exact thing happened to within the last month and I've heard story after story of others who have lost loved ones that quickly to this disease. It's like living as a ticking time bomb. You can be toodling around seemingly fine one day and gone the next. It's hard to live with that on your shoulders. It's hard knowing on the days that I'm struggling to breathe even with the oxygen that the day will come when I will no longer recover. It's hard not to panic and something I'm really working hard on. It's hard to know that at any point, because I also have pulmonary hypertension, that my heart can just blow out. There is a fine line between getting the exercise you need and overdoing it. Getting it wrong can literally be a killer. That's a lot of pressure - literally and physically.
I admit that I am overwhelmed. I'm a fighter and have been all my life but the fight is slowly fading out of me. Between the physical assault on my body and mind and the financial stresses and the concern about what the future (if I have any future left) holds. We've come to the conclusion that it may be time to leave Adamsville. Truth be told, the idea of living closer to my grandson and the beach is sounding better and better each day. It won't be easy. First we have to try and get out of this house. Our credit is ruined from the medical bills that have piled up and we haven't been able to pay plus the fact that our credit cards are now maxed out - from everyday living expenses. And we have no idea how we'd pay to get our stuff down there or whether we'll even be able to rent a place. So many unknowns. I'll hate to leave here because I have loved it so but I don't feel I belong here anymore. Friendships have waned and been stressed because it's hard on them when you have to live with these circumstances. I can't blame them for not coming around - it's hard to watch me struggle for things everybody takes for granted. It's hard for Oliver to watch and except for the times he takes Charlie for a walk, he has to. It's hard on my son, Dan, who doesn't even call because quite frankly, he doesn't know what to say. It hurts that he doesn't call, but I do understand. I can no longer hide the dark sides of this disease. I can't hide the pain as I grimace from movement and I certainly can't hide the times that I have to hook up to the oxygen, which has become more and more frequent. I even have to sleep with it now. We do still have our small group from church and they are wonderful. They bring a smile to my face and make me feel just a little bit human for a couple of hours every couple of weeks. We love them.
The good thing about being let go from Vanderbilt is that I no longer have to worry about living within 3 hours of Nashville. Since being automatically disqualified for a lung transplant due to no insurance, that option is off the table and that was the only option I had of beating this thing called Pulmonary Fibrosis. But that leaves us free to literally move wherever we want to, well, at least in our heads. There are days when I'd love to be down by the beach near my grandson and then there are other days when I'd just like to get a motorhome and go check things off my bucket list. Away from the collection agency calls, away from all those things that keep you tied to terra firma. As long as we would be able to have a satellite hookup for tv and internet, we'd be set. I might even be able to assist in keeping a motorhome clean - much less overwhelming than the house. There are days when I dream of something as simple as owning a Motorola XOOM e-tablet. Since I like to read it would be neat to have a tablet to be able to do that with. It would be nice to be able to curl up in my chair and do all the things on the internet that I do. The laptop is just too heavy for me and awkward to do that with. I'd love to go on a cruise. I'd be happy living on a houseboat but I'm not sure Oliver could stomach it. I'd love to visit Hawaii but since flying can severely compromise my lungs, that option is definitely out. I know I wouldn't be able to just swim from Los Angeles to Honolulu - and back. Then I realize that these are ALL dreams that may never come true. Right now, in reality, I can only dream that the electric, water, food and meds are paid for today.
I mourn not being able to do all the things that I always thought I'd have later to do. I worked hard, sometimes too hard, and set aside my dreams and aspirations to be with my family. I always thought that I'd be able to travel when we retired and to have a nice house and be able to get a new car every 5 or 6 years or so. I'll never experience that new car smell again - well, unless I just go sit in one at the dealership. Quite frankly, I may not be able to do that since all kinds of smells now literally take my breath away. I hate the stares I get from people on those rare occasions when I do venture out. Most people are merciless, thinking I did something to myself that caused me to be sick - like it was my choice to be this way. I didn't. I hate that kids now feel they have to hide behind their parents because they are afraid of the oxygen tanks and tubing, which make me sound like Darth Vader. That breaks my heart because I have always loved kids and had a special connection with them. Where once I saw smiles, now I only see fear.
I'm not looking to invite anyone to my pity party. I don't even stay here long myself, if I can help it. Quite frankly, I don't even know what more I want out of life. I guess my biggest thing would be to have some kind of security. I'd like to put all my concentration into fighting this disease and into believing that perhaps, just perhaps, the doctors got it all wrong and I have something else - something curable. I'd like to beat the odds that are stacked up against me. That is my daily prayer. That somehow, some way, SOMETHING will just turn out ok. That at least one area in my so called life would just settle down and not be stirred. I'd like some calmer waters, please. In the meantime, I'll look out the dirty window at the sunshine and the trees and grass greening up and remember that there are seasons in everybody's life and that even winter can only hang on so long. Perhaps the rope unraveling is a good thing after all. Maybe, just maybe, it will be the opportunity to change the grip that will make all the difference. I sure hope and pray so.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
A Tennessee Spring Afternoon
Ok, the afternoon started out innocently enough. I really was just heading outside to sit on my lounge chair and immerse myself in a book I've been wanting to finish. It's not the worst book I've ever read but certainly not a page turner by any means. I'm only 50 pages from getting it done and I thought the warm sunshine along with the crisp breeze of a sunny spring day would entice me to finish it. I did start reading. I actually got about 4 pages read before I couldn't help myself, I began looking around.
There is something about early spring clean-up that just begs for you to attack it on a glorious day. I admit that I no longer have the strength, stamina or even the very breath to do what I used to but I couldn't just sit there and do "nothing" like I planned. So, despite knowing better when I've sick all week, I decided at least I could "tame the jungle" (aka mowing the lawn) for the first time this year. There is something about the smell of freshly mowed onions that just screams spring. Yep, you read correct - freshly mowed onions, not grass. At least now I'm no longer surprised when this happens nor think I've lost my mind.
We have about an acre and a quarter of land that is ours, but half of it is wooded. All in all it takes about an hour to mow and quite frankly, it's a "chore" I really enjoy. There is something about the drone of the tractor engine, the smell of the aforementioned onions, the fresh air, the sound of crickets, the mounds of ant hills emerging from the ground, the toads hopping for their lives as the tractor approaches, that just makes you glad to be alive. I must say I have mastered this task. No longer breaking windows or running over things that can tangled in the blades. Since it rained a good deal this week, I didn't need to worry about closing the windows before churning up the dust and dirt. No flat tires on the tractor. No belts coming loose because I took a turn a bit too tight. No bruised knees from holding on to the tractortoo tightly wtih my legs for fear of falling off. I have improved. I got it done in record time and went back to my lounge chair and book.
As I sat there with the goal of really finisihing the book this time, I began to once again look around. I knew better than to look at the weeds poking up from the front landscaping - they can wait. I looked up to the sky to see a hawk fly overhead and smiled as I watched it soar and dive. I heard the distinct sound of the mockingbirds that have shared our property for the past couple of years. I heard a dog bark in the distance and heard the crack of gun go off as some hunter tried to shoot his prey. My nose met with the smell of burning of leaves and wood from others who were clearing their properties of the fallen branches and stuff that the winter leaves behind.
Ok, enough of that... I have to finish this book. I started once more to at least finish the chapter, if not the rest of the book, when movement caught my attention from the left. I looked over expecting to see Duke, our neighborhood Great Dane, but instead my eyes beheld the vision of a half dozen deer come scampering across our yard towards the wooded area across the street. Not an unusual sight by any means, we have deer come by all the time, but not usually when we're out there and certainly not less than 15 yards away. They were absolutely beautiful with their graceful strength. I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as I saw the last of their little white tails disappear into the woods. I wished I'd have had my camera at the ready but I knew that even if I had it out there with me, I would have missed the whole moment because it was over in an instant.
I put the book down. It wasn't going to get read anymore this afternoon. Instead I just sat there and just really absorbed all that was going on around me. I embraced every sensory experience that I could and I let every muscle in my achy body just relax. And I thanked God for another day, for another breath, for another chance to experience a lovely spring day. We've lived a lot of places over the years and I've met many a spring but I have to say there is something incredibly peaceful and powerful about Tennessee in the springtime. It's not just the promise of things to come or the freshness of new beginnings, it's something more. Something almost intangiable and yet right there. Hard to explain but wonderful to experience.
I'm glad the Bradford Pear trees are giving up the last of their white spring flowers because that means the stinky fish smell that accompanies them will wane as well. It's awesome to see the bright colors of the buttercups and tulips and various other flowers as they poke through the ground in all their glory. I love watching the naked branches begin to bud with their little green nubs of future leaves to remind us of the circle of life. I'm glad it's spring and I look forward to many more beautiful days finally finsihing that book - someday.
There is something about early spring clean-up that just begs for you to attack it on a glorious day. I admit that I no longer have the strength, stamina or even the very breath to do what I used to but I couldn't just sit there and do "nothing" like I planned. So, despite knowing better when I've sick all week, I decided at least I could "tame the jungle" (aka mowing the lawn) for the first time this year. There is something about the smell of freshly mowed onions that just screams spring. Yep, you read correct - freshly mowed onions, not grass. At least now I'm no longer surprised when this happens nor think I've lost my mind.
We have about an acre and a quarter of land that is ours, but half of it is wooded. All in all it takes about an hour to mow and quite frankly, it's a "chore" I really enjoy. There is something about the drone of the tractor engine, the smell of the aforementioned onions, the fresh air, the sound of crickets, the mounds of ant hills emerging from the ground, the toads hopping for their lives as the tractor approaches, that just makes you glad to be alive. I must say I have mastered this task. No longer breaking windows or running over things that can tangled in the blades. Since it rained a good deal this week, I didn't need to worry about closing the windows before churning up the dust and dirt. No flat tires on the tractor. No belts coming loose because I took a turn a bit too tight. No bruised knees from holding on to the tractortoo tightly wtih my legs for fear of falling off. I have improved. I got it done in record time and went back to my lounge chair and book.
As I sat there with the goal of really finisihing the book this time, I began to once again look around. I knew better than to look at the weeds poking up from the front landscaping - they can wait. I looked up to the sky to see a hawk fly overhead and smiled as I watched it soar and dive. I heard the distinct sound of the mockingbirds that have shared our property for the past couple of years. I heard a dog bark in the distance and heard the crack of gun go off as some hunter tried to shoot his prey. My nose met with the smell of burning of leaves and wood from others who were clearing their properties of the fallen branches and stuff that the winter leaves behind.
Ok, enough of that... I have to finish this book. I started once more to at least finish the chapter, if not the rest of the book, when movement caught my attention from the left. I looked over expecting to see Duke, our neighborhood Great Dane, but instead my eyes beheld the vision of a half dozen deer come scampering across our yard towards the wooded area across the street. Not an unusual sight by any means, we have deer come by all the time, but not usually when we're out there and certainly not less than 15 yards away. They were absolutely beautiful with their graceful strength. I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as I saw the last of their little white tails disappear into the woods. I wished I'd have had my camera at the ready but I knew that even if I had it out there with me, I would have missed the whole moment because it was over in an instant.
I put the book down. It wasn't going to get read anymore this afternoon. Instead I just sat there and just really absorbed all that was going on around me. I embraced every sensory experience that I could and I let every muscle in my achy body just relax. And I thanked God for another day, for another breath, for another chance to experience a lovely spring day. We've lived a lot of places over the years and I've met many a spring but I have to say there is something incredibly peaceful and powerful about Tennessee in the springtime. It's not just the promise of things to come or the freshness of new beginnings, it's something more. Something almost intangiable and yet right there. Hard to explain but wonderful to experience.
I'm glad the Bradford Pear trees are giving up the last of their white spring flowers because that means the stinky fish smell that accompanies them will wane as well. It's awesome to see the bright colors of the buttercups and tulips and various other flowers as they poke through the ground in all their glory. I love watching the naked branches begin to bud with their little green nubs of future leaves to remind us of the circle of life. I'm glad it's spring and I look forward to many more beautiful days finally finsihing that book - someday.
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