life
The Clinical Journal Entries started as a clinical assignment but then turned into tradition. Unfortunately, we are back into the assignment mode, and that takes all of the fun out of it. It will start out as a copy-paste from Word (the doc I emailed my professor) and now I get to tell you how the day really happened (or at least my uncensored and way-more-fun version of it)
This is our geriatric/rehabilitation rotation. I signed up for the only section that was less than an hour from my house, a nursing home in Akron. A solid 30 minute drive at 6:20am for an instructor who wants us there prior to 7am because "these patients are already awake anyways!" Right.
Now, I love old people. I'm a sucker for grandparents, and I even enjoyed working on the Acute Care of the Elderly unit for my first-ever clinical rotation. Old people, the elderly, seniors... however it's politically correct to call them these days, are full of stories and have such varying personalities. They're just like us twenty-somethings, only a whole lot smarter with many more lessons learned. They're so easily stereotyped, while to them, we're probably just as easily stereotyped. The more you're around the people who hit their '80s, '90s, or even 100s (101 - like one of our residents!) the more you realize that they're just people like you or me, only their bodies sometimes get worn out from this life and they need extra help. That's all. Alzheimer's and incontinence aside, forget about the hearing aids and teeth sitting on the counter... Each and every old person in the world has a personality, interests, dislikes, memories, habits, values, and fears. And, like everyone else, they just want to love and be loved.
Studying the process of what can go wrong in old age, however, is a different case. We have clients, not patients. They're here because they, the government, or their families are paying for their stay. They're here to get better so they can go be good Grandmas again. They're here to play games and sing songs until they go across the river. They're here because they are a little forgetful and someone needs to help them know to take their medicine. They might be here because their spouse died, their family couldn't take them, yet they couldn't quite live on their own. And then some have colorful rooms filled with photos and banners and flowers and things from the home they will soon return to. See, it's a different kind of place. It has a distinct smell and sound, and yes, there are medicines and health problems, but it doesn't feel like a hospital. Instead, nursing homes seem like big dorms for old people. And I'm a nurse, just not that kind of nurse. Just when I was getting proficient with tubes, needles, systems, IV pumps, intricate computer charts... I get dropped off on the doorstep of an old people dorm and am told to make myself useful and take assessments and give meds, charting it all in 4" 3-ring binders . Hand-charting aside, those things really don't take long. But this does - this takes 10 hours on our feet, looking busy, and some weeks we will have alert patients, while some weeks we may not even have a patient who can talk back. I'm the busy-busy-busy nurse, the one in the group who just doesn't slow down, so this might be a problem. I foresee a lot of craft events and afternoons spent at the group "Dining Room Movie." If I have to feed a few people or clean up after them, that's okay, too. If I have to smile at a mean old lady or help him clean his dentures, that's okay, too. And if I get to do a dressing change on a stage 3 pressure ulcer or get to go with a patient to see how dialysis works in our (rare in-nursing-home kidney dialysis) center, then it'll definitely be a good day! I just don't like the smell of that place, especially at 7am, and I really, really, really don't like being bored.
Today was just orientation, see the unit, meet the staff, here's-all-the-assignments-and-final-paper-i-want-to-kill-you-with kind of day. So next week, maybe something will change or I'll have some sort of different opinion. Probably, yes, most likely. :)
Oh yes, and because this is an assignment, I must state 3 personal goals, one with a clinical focus, one with a gerontological focus, and one with a rehabilitation focus.
Clinical: To increase my patient assessment skills (...Seeing how one of the only things we are doing here is, well, patient assessments, lol)
Gero: To be comfortable with dementia patients (Because let's face it - they're scary. I had one when I student tech'ed at General and it was a BAD experience)
Rehab: To help a patient work on skills so he/she can return to home (Because we do have a few "acute" older people, and we all know that homes are soooo much better than nursing homes!)
My next journals will be on activities I did with residents or random things the syllabus wants us to do ("Make a list of stereotypes of older people"), citing a website that taught me more about my patient's condition, citing a journal regarding one of my patients... ya' know.... just the normal fabulous stuff the professors sit at home and make lists of because they have nothing better to do. All while reading about 4-8 (50 page-ish) chapters of 2 textbooks a week. (Well, technically 3 textbooks. The one was so big they had to make Vol. 1 and Vol. 2. Not. even. kidding.) Whoooo!!!
And I need to rant just a little more to get "today" out of my system, because I'm tired and was up too early and am crabby from being bored and so stressed... I would have guessed a nursing home would be on the warm side, but this place was HOT. We toured all 4 (or 5?) "units" and went on two different floors, all the different wings, and there was not one single cool spot beyond opening-wide a window or a door. So next week, other than coming in swim-scrubs, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. I figured it would be rude to steal an "out of it" patient and turn on their room A/C. Definitely rude. And mean. Neither of which I'm into being. But it's like, we can put nice warm blankets and Snuggies and jackets on them, yet we are not allowed to take off any more clothing without violating some kind of rule or law. Yes I have a tank top under my scrubs, but will they let me walk around in that? No, because how un-professional! Yeah, well then get a thermostat that works, set it where normal people set it, and try that for professional!
And to think if this was any other day, I'd have my reason for doing this, the hope of the ONLY one thing that I fought through this much school for already. But it's funny... we humans are odd creatures. I'm still fighting and even the faintest hope of my reason is gone. So am I fighting for nothing? Probably. Uh-oh, I can't let my mind go that way. K, turn this way...
5. More. Weeks. Of. This... And I wish I could say I'm getting the summer off, but I'm NOT. I will be spending 6 weeks taking what I should have taken January through last week but nervous breakdown'ed my way out of.
If I can keep going at this insane pace, I'll be done in 1 year, 1 1/2 months, making my grand total... 6 painful years.
And then what? A nanny who just happens to have a nursing degree? God help me! All I wanted was a part-time job that I loved (which could be nursing, yes, could be this....) and to work because of want and not need, with the ultimate goal of staying home with my children. Somehow all of my dreams got really mixed up into the life I have now. Add a degree and a part time RN job, keep the nannying, and I have everything in the dream except the kids... The kids I pour so much into are kind of other people's kids. Oh, and a husband... I think somewhere in there the dream was being married first. Yeah, and that's a sore subject right now. But yes, he would be present because I would be working because I want to, not because I have to, right? Remember that part? Not sure how this knot of "dreams" came to be, or how to untangle it, but we'll get there... look around, assess, reassess... intervene when necessary. Follow the plan of the Divine, foremost. Stay on for the ride, because it's sure going to be interesting how this one plays out!
(Sidenote - Nurses, did you know that after 2015, the MSN is no more? The next step is the doctorate of nursing practice I think. I'm not sure if they're moving CNS NP CRNA, etc. up to PhD level or what, but the masters will cease to exist. The nursing board smartypants are doing the physical therapist thing where all existing MSNs will be "grandfathered in" but anyone wanting to be a grad student has to work to PhD. So my plan is, you guessed it, to start my masters the latest day in my life possible before I can no longer get "grandfathered" in for my MSN.)
Today I woke up exhausted, not liking the gloom out my window, not looking forward to eliminating my Ex's existence on my legal documents, and not looking forward to visiting my hepatologist - an hour away - late in the afternoon.
So first up... in to see my attorney to get all of my power of attorneys, durable healthcare power of attorneys, living will, etc. revised. Mr. Attorney said it wasn't smart to put my fiance in such important legal documents, but I told him we weren't like other couples, and it would be fine. Today I bit my words as we took his names off of all of my legal documents - as if he doesn't exist - on my most important papers anymore. I signed, signed, and signed, and he notarized, notarized, notarized. Off we went with new documents, reflecting my new life. Off we went to Cleveland... ugh.
My mom and I listened to a really uplifting CD on the way there, and I love spending time with my mom. But the drive is so long. The visits aren't the worst of it; it's just draining by the time you do the driving, parking, waiting, signing in, etc. But onto to the visit - Of course I saw Dr. Hupertz's resident first, and this resident rubbed me the wrong way. That's what started it. Then I saw my doctor. All in all = lots of tests and procedures to be scheduled. My I'm-fine-hey-no-liver-problems-here break is officially over. It seems I get a hiatus every Aug/September through April or May since she tries to follow the school schedule, but it's approaching March... April... May... June, and there's lots of info she wants on me... well, here it comes again. How's the scans looking? How are the cysts on my kidneys looking? How big are the varices? Is the bloodflow blocked even more? Is the MELD high enough to warrant a transplant yet? She has questions, and I don't want to give her the time to get the answers. I don't want the answers in all actuality. I'm bored with all of this. I just want to be better. So anyways, back to today - then we go to schedule all these procedures. I always see the same scheduler who I love, but hey look, they decided to hire a new one who knows absolutely nothing. I absolutely loathe arguing, and that's all we were doing, so I had to have my mom come in and talk to this woman because things were seriously getting that heated. She couldn't care one bit about any word I had to say, and it was her way or no way, and she was all WRONG. So we finally got me scheduled, I went downstairs and gave them their vials of blood, and then my mom and I went to the car in the rain, and I slept the entire way home.
I get home, go to bed, exhausted and hoping I can sleep. Of course not. So I take some meds. Then I'm not sure if it was he or I, but texting with the Ex began. Things got violent and some very hurtful things were said, some opportunities to simply show love were ignored, and I ended up on my dad's bed crying while he watched TV. I asked him if this was a normal way for a guy to handle something like this. That's how the conversation began. He turned off the TV and we talked and talked and talked, onto and past about 200 different topics, each about said guy and his actions and what has happened and where it hurts. Then Dad stands up... what is he doing? Getting something out of the bathroom... oh... a tissue. For me. Dad got me a tissue. So by the time said tissue is in my hand, I was bawling, so he just stood there, arms open wide, until I came into them and sobbed. He told me he was hurting so badly for me and he knows how I've been wronged, how the approach to this breakup was entirely poorly-mannered and months of damage had already occurred.... long story. But he told me how this has been so hard for him to see me go through this, and he loved me, and there was a greater plan. So I sobbed, and he cried, and I sobbed... into my daddy's strong arms. His arms meant he knew, he cared, he understood, and everything would be okay. Hurt and violated, yes, but he agreed with me in my gratitude for the grace of God intervening 3 weeks ago. It's amazing, it is.
Then I texted my sister to see a movie at 10 with me. I ached to see Dear John again... to see someone else hurting like me. But, Nik has to go to bed for early class. I text my cousin. I text my bestie. I remember that Jen, bless her heart, had just gotten out of work, and here she tells me me she'll be on her way just as soon as she stops home for clothes. She's almost missing a work deadline on her new RN job and is exhausted out of her mind, but she's driving an hour from work to her house to get stuff to come 45 minutes to my house to spend the night and pray with me and let me cry and cry and cry.... and then wake up and make sure I'm just a little better in the morning. Now that's a best friend.
We are blessed, dear friends, so so blessed.
It's been so many days since I've written. I've been sorting through parts and pieces of my life, reassembling some broken parts, throwing away of a few unusable things, adding a bunch of wonderful, graceful things, you know, just renovating a bit. Using the bad to bring out some good. And I finally believe the wings of this new and improved Amanda are finally ready to fly. I like who I am now, and I feel like I'm so much more mature. I know what I want. Everything is so clear to me right now. Sure, I'm still struggling with a few things, but I learned how to leave them at the feet of Jesus.
Speaking of the glorious... all week, I've been dwelling on this post by the fabulous Angie Smith (at another great blog you should check out, (In)Courage), entitled "The Glorious Hem." Read, reflect, and rejoice. We - despite our many, many flaws - are all wanted, and we will all be redeemed. Nothing matters but what we have in store for us only by the grace of God. May we press on, getting through the dirt we encounter all over this life, to finally meet our groom. He knows us and wants us. He is waiting for us with his promises to wipe away our tears and make all things new. Glorious!
Todd and I seem to be in "Spring Cleaning" mode a little early this year. In the past few days, we have started tackling some home projects that we have been putting off for awhile. One of them (which I was DREADING) was cleaning out our closets.
I was dreading it for a few reasons, not the least of which was that there were some sassy pants in a size 2 that I knew God was calling me to surrender to the "in your dreams" pile. I decided I need to take some pressure off myself about losing all of my baby weight, so I was actually pretty liberal with my sorting this time around.
I was also dreading cleaning out the girl's closets because there were stacks of clothes that needed to be sorted by size and season, and different piles for people who have little girls I have been putting it off forever, so I committed the afternoon yesterday and set up shop in Kate's room. I turned on the radio and started reaching for the piles.
About a half hour later, I was in tears.
I hadn't expected it to be so mentally draining. I have mentioned this before, but I really feel like I see life in photographs...
I remember the outfit Ellie was wearing when she realized that the hose water was freezing, and about 2 seconds later when she taught Abby the same lesson the hard way.
I remember what Kate wore home from the hospital, and what blankie I first photographed her in.
I remember the bathing suit that Abby was wearing when she felt beach sand for the first time.
I remember the dresses the girls were wearing last Christmas, when I was a few months pregnant with a baby girl I thought was healthy.
I have one of our Christmas cards from last year and it is signed "Todd, Angie, Ellie, Abby, Kate and Baby Smith."
I grieved all over again, in a different way. I grieved because I can't hold her in those sweet hand-me-downs while rocking her to sleep. It seems like at this point, the hardest moments come in ways that are totally unexpected. I start to feel like I am doing really well, and then I get hit over the head with this queasy feeling of agony.
I sat on Kate's floor and dreamed of Audrey for awhile. I miss her so much, and I daily mourn the loss of the little moments of life I take for granted with the girls.
As I made my way into my closet, I felt so heavy with sadness. I started throwing my maternity clothes into a giant bag while I had a little "conversation" with God. It was pretty one-sided.
At least it was at first.
After a few minutes, I looked up and saw the bag that has my wedding dress in it. When I talk about "the Lord speaking to me," it is in a time like this, when I feel a prompting to do something and I know that it is coming from Him. In this moment, I felt like I needed to unzip the bag.
It seemed a little odd, but I know Him well enough to know that I should just obey the urging and let Him guide me to where I am supposed to be. I unzipped the bag and for a brief moment, my mind was consumed with the fact that I used to have a 21 inch waist, but then I remembered that the God of the Universe was speaking to me (clap, clap!) so I returned to a posture of listening.
I pulled the bottom of the dress out of the bag and the train came spilling out. I spread it out on the ground and studied it as moments of my wedding day came to mind. I started to relax and my eyes drifted to the edges of the train. And I saw the most incredible, unexpected thing.
The hem of my gown is dirty. Really dirty.
And I know how it got that way. I walked down a church aisle, took photographs in the grass, and danced and ate my way to happiness. I lived in it.
A few dresses down from my wedding gown is the dress I wore when we buried Audrey. It is dirty as well, but not from happiness. It is stained with fresh earth, wrinkled from kneeling by my daughter's grave.
And so I sat on my closet floor asking the Lord to show me why He had brought me here. I closed my eyes and imagined the hem of my wedding gown as I danced with my new husband.
"... I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." -Revelation 21:2-5
I couldn't remember the whole scripture, but the words "You are the bride of Christ" came to mind. I suddenly had an image in my mind of myself in a glorious white gown that floated all around me. A seemingly endless train chasing after me as I walked.
And then, Him.
I couldn't see Him in my mind, but I felt a great peace as I imagined my hands, clutching at fabric all around me so I could run to where He was. I saw myself, falling before Him as my dirty gown settled all around me.
Dirty from the hurt and the disappointment.
Dirty from the dancing in joy.
Dirty from years of walking across a wet graveyard.
Dirty from loving deeply, richly, completely.
Dirty from the fears, the dreams, the sorrow, the confusion.
Dirty from the memories, the regrets, the mistakes, the injustice of this world.
Stained by this life I have walked while my Savior whispered, "One day I will wipe your tears, my sweet bride..."
What a glorious hem surrounds us all. It follows us wherever we go, gathering up pieces of this life in anticipation of the next.
And one day, I will bow to the King of Kings, and I will worship Him.
And as He wipes the tears from my eyes, I will ask Him the question that cannot be answered fully from a closet floor....Where is she, Lord?
And in the meantime, I will start to think of my days like a wedding photograph. I will walk, veiled, down this long aisle, in breathless anticipation of the day that awaits me.
I will trust in the One Who will make all things new in His time.
I will keep my eyes on He Who waits for me.
I will.
Or rather, I do.
Angie Smith, Bring The Rain
Sometimes you have to be apart from people you love, but that doesn’t mean that you love them any less. Sometimes it makes you love them even more.
The Last Song movie
It’s hard when you miss people, but you know, if you miss them, it means you’re lucky. It means you had something special in your life, someone worth missing.
One Tree Hill 7.16
My hair stylist lost her husband to cancer last August. It was a hard battle with a drawn out ending. She hasn’t been the same since and probably won’t be. Last week, I went in to get my hair done, and she stopped and looked at me, knowing what had happened since my mom had seen her the week before. “It’s like this huge empty feeling right here, isn’t it?” as she stopped and pointed to somewhere between her stomach and her heart. I nodded, holding back tears. I didn’t have the courage to ask how long until that feeling fades away... if ever?
I watched you sleeping quietly in my bed
You don't know this now but there's some things that need to be said
And it's all that I can hear, It's more than I can bare...
What if I fall and hurt myself?
Would you know how to fix me
What if I went and lost myself?
Would you know where to find me
If I forgot who I am,
Would you please remind me?
Cause without you things go hazy
Rosi Golan
2 weeks ago to this moment, January 30, 2010, my fiance (of 2.5+ years, boyfriend of nearly 5.5) and I broke the relationship.
We bowed to what we knew was the plan of God, even though it was the hardest thing either of us have ever had to do.
I cried to God, "Anything but this," and I meant it. I've known sickness, I've known pain, I've known more than most. And my continual cry was honest, yet my prayer unanswered.
As for God, His way is perfect.
Psalm 18.30
That late Saturday night, I ended up in the emergency room with a subsequent hospital stay after a complete breakdown, and the rest of the days haven’t been any easier. One day I slept for about 20 hours straight (starting at 4pm), while other nights, I can’t even sleep. God never said His way was easy, but He did promise He’d be with us every step of the way.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.
Psalm 23.4-5
However, Jonathan and I have both used this separation time to bring us closer to God.
Sometimes all but our very lives need to be taken away from us before we realize
God is all we have left... and God is all we really need.
In the beginning, GOD.
Genesis 1.1a
Him that filleth all in all
Ephesians 1.23b
We’ve been holding to the promises we know are true, trying to get through this, to the other side... whatever is over there, we don’t know.
Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.
Proverbs 3.5-6
Yet still I can’t help but wonder...
How long until the tan line on my left index finger goes away?
How long until I can start eating and drinking? (Losing 16 lbs in 2 weeks just isn't right)
How long until I can see you without having to hold back tears?
How long until I can mention your name without crumbling?
How long until I can wash my hands without going into a panic, sure my ring is gone?
How long until I can wear the clothes I wore when I was with you?
How long until I can go into any place we have ever been together?
How long until I can watch the movies or shows I first saw with you?
How long until I can truly smile or laugh or love again?
How long until all of the beautiful memories fade?
How long until this nightmare is over?
How long until we finally see His higher plan?
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
Isaiah 55.8-9
Right after that night, I made two lists - one of things I will miss, and one of things I won’t miss. I realize the second might have been inappropriate, but it’s the only way I could formulate some kind of coping at that point in time.
These are the things which I ultimately ache to see, hear, or feel just one more time... I'd give all but my very soul to have these things just for one more second. The things about you that I miss... The things you did that I’ll be forever so grateful for. Reasons to miss you even more... The things I will never forget. Whatever you want to call it, this is my list.
Your subconscious humming
Your immaculate DVR commercial-skipping skills
Putting up with my rants
Entertaining my theories
Your cold hands in the winter
Letting me control the music in the car
How you'd gently fix my ring if it was poking your finger
Not minding my "return policy"
How you'd gently stroke my back
Your nerdiness
How you could tell - without even looking - if I fell asleep
Each time you told me I looked cute or was beautiful
How you'd reassure me, "It's okay - we'll prepare for the worst."
When you'd hold me as I sobbed
How you'd whisper to God when I couldn't find the strength
You using a coaster and usually putting any stray dishes in the dishwasher
Long emails in the beginning
No request was ever too much for you, not even Dairy Queen in January
Getting gas before you picked me up
Input regarding wedding things (colors, stationery, photographers)
Relentless love
Learning the value of family
Putting up with my eccentricities and moods
Carefully learning my needs
Noticing I buy my favorite clothing items in a few different colors
Letting me take my time
Reassuring me
Pretending to like your Amanda plant when really, you let it die
Helping me cope with transitions and life eventsUntangling my jewelry
For painting my walls and hanging my curtains
For waiting for me
For knowing when and how to deal with what was beyond my walls
Long drives
Stopping me before I went "too far" whether it was in speech or deed
Dropping your plans to hold me while I cried
Driving me home, going east on 18, stars out, soft music playing, our hands together, our words soft
Miniscule errands, all the time
Your passion for your work
Keeping my secrets
Talking about our future childrenWhy you almost passed out
Chick flicks
Sacrificing to buy the bigger, clearer diamond to surprise me with
Driving 2.5 hours to a concert you probably didn't want to go to
Teaching me basketball
Holding my hand in the hospital
Letting me dawdle when shopping for anything, anywhere
Movie theaters, Playhouse Square, concerts, Disney on Ice, Cavs games, and t-ball games
Letting me do everything elaborately and excessively
Growing your caring nature
Going home only once I was settled in bed and kissed goodnight
Letting me call you at midnight
Spontaneous "I'll love you" texts
Respecting me
Your chivalryYour light, just-because kisses on my head
Sharing each and every one of our 1,190 days
Friday, August 20, 2004 to Saturday, January 30, 2010... Right now, I’m still coming to grips with losing my very best friend, fiance, husband, children, pretty house in Hudson, Ikea furniture, my job in Cleveland, and all of the other things we’ve weaved into the dream of our beautiful future.
We fit together like we were meant to be, and I really thought we were. The grief is worse than losing anyone in death because you’re still alive, I’m still alive, and both of us have to figure out now how to live apart until we can live together again as friends.
You were my first love. You carried and took care of me, stayed by me, held onto me. You taught me the existence of love itself, in believing in things much greater than ourselves. You nurtured my growth, enabled my being. You gently tore down my unsurpassable, incorruptible walls. You taught me how to love.
No matter where we each end up, we will always be entwined into the innermost beings of each other. Growing together for a quarter of our lives has left undeniable, indelible marks on our souls. For that, I will always love you.
Hear my cry, oh God - attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee. When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy... I will trust covert of thy wings. Selah.
Psalm 61.1-4
You tucked me in,
turned out the light,
kept me safe and sound at night
Little girls depend on things like that
Brushed my teeth and combed my hair
had to drive me every where
You were always there when I looked back
You had to do it all alone,
make a living, make a home
Must have been as hard as it could be
And when I couldn't sleep at night,
scared things wouldn't turn out right,
You would hold my hand and sing to me
Caterpillar in the tree,
How you wonder who you'll be
Can't go far, but you can always dream
Wish you may and wish you might
Don't you worry, hold on tight
I promise you there will come a day
Butterfly fly away
Butterfly fly away
Got your wings, now you can't stay
Take those dreams and make them all come true
Butterfly fly away
You've been waiting for this day
all along and know just what to do
. . B u t t e r f l y . . . f l y . . . . . a w a y . . . . . .
G. Ballard, A. Silvestri
Death.
I've known death for many years now, more than I can remember.
Whenever someone at church passed away, Mom would dress her tiny girls in their little dresses, white tights, and black patent leather shoes. She would do our hair really pretty, and then our family of four would head off to the funeral home. On the way, Mom and Dad would go over etiquette as if we had never known manners in our lives. They just wanted to make sure we were on our "best behavior." And we were. We would hold their hands as we stood in line to see the body, and while Mom and Dad shared their regards, we would sweetly smile and return any hugs given to us. As we walked out the room, we couldn't help but notice the people crying, the sadness, the atmosphere. Though out the doors, it was easily forgotten. Afterall, it was a sunny, beautiful day and we would go home and run through the sprinkler or play with our dolls. Meanwhile, a family's world had been shaken upside down.
Years passed and we began to understand.
I think death is one of those things that you wish you never got old enough to really know... And once you know it, you never forget when it strikes.
My aunt's mom, "Mrs. Coger" was like a grandma to me. She came to all of our family events and had such a sweet spirit. She made me feel special, and I loved to talk to her. I don't remember too much about her, but I do remember her love. She always carried such a peace with her too... She died on September 11th, 2001. Her funeral was the first one I really remember, maybe because I absolutely lost it when I saw her in the casket, or maybe because I was old enough by then to realize what it meant. Either way, I still miss her sweet spirit and gentle smile.
Then there was my parent's friend, we called him "Uncle Phil." He got sick at my graduation party and we later found out it was multiple mylenoma. For years, it slowly drained all the life out of him, and we were glad when his suffering ended. Yet even when he was in the worst pain, serving others was his priority. I remember one time he had just finished a treatment and was sitting poolside with a hat on. I was in the pool and my leg cramped up. I didn't say anything, but he knew something was wrong. I told him nothing was wrong, but as weak as he was, he got up and said, "Well I'm getting in anyways." Thankfully, my leg released and I showed him as I told him to sit back down. Then there was the time my doctor thought seeing an oncologist might help with my blood levels affected from my liver disease. While I waited in the waiting room, alone, the door opened. It was Phil. First I was embarrassed for him to see me there, and then I felt awful because I knew how upset he'd be knowing I was seeing a blood/cancer doctor. We said hello and he asked if everything was okay, and I told him it was. Worrying about me was the last thing he needed, but it was probably the first thing he did. Funny... we were all worrying about him. It rained at his funeral, absolutely poured. It was a cold, October day, and the wind and water chilled us to the bone. My parents were out of town, and I went home to a lonely house. I couldn't get warmed up no matter how many layers of clothes I put on, so I started the fire and sat and shivered until my little guys Bryce and Declan came over to go trick-or-treating. While the fire crackled, I remember yelling at God for taking him. Well, not for taking him but for letting him suffer so long before taking him. But if someone, even one person, came to God from his life, then Phil would have wanted to die. He was like that. But either way, why the years of one of the worst, most ravenous types of cancer? I hate myself for wanting to ask God that.
A decade or two ago, we gladly accepted Grandpa into our lives and shared baseball games, western movies, and fun family times... He didn't say much, but when he did, it was so funny. We loved that guy... and just like that, lung cancer, and he was taken away. He died after a long fight in the hospital, and I won't forget the day they took his IV out. My mind put the pieces together - no IV meant no hydration, nutrition, no IV meds... I'm not one to break down in public, but that's when I finally believed Grandpa was going to die. My grandma held me in the hospital hallway for what felt like an hour as I just sobbed and sobbed. Grandpa still lived for weeks after that, though. Our family stood guard on the oncology wing of the hospital, sharing all kinds of shifts, for weeks. The docors didn't know what he was holding on for, and we never found out. Completely not expecting it, I got the news that he was going fast while I was in Anatomy & Physiology class. I remember driving to the hospital begging God to let me see him one more time. I finally arrived, parked, ran inside the hospital, ran to the elevators, ran to his room, and there was my whole family. My Uncle shook his head as his eyes met mine. He was gone. I looked at Grandma and the only empty seat in the room was beside her, so I sat down. We embraced. I then noticed Grandma was holding his hand like she wouldn't let go. A few minutes passed and just like that, she got a disgusted look on her face, turned to me and said, "He's cold." She got up and left. That was it. Grandpa was gone.
Then there was a girl at church just a little older than me. She had the same name as me, and although I never really knew her, I was well aware of what we shared in common. I'd watched her my entire life. She had cystic fibrosis and always inspired me by coming to church even when I saw the pain swelling up in her eyes. She always wore a black dress suit... I'll never forget that. She was in so much pain, yet she wanted to look nice for God's house. She was beautiful for that. Watching her battle with CF was awful. It was up and down, up and down for years, and of course, she eventually had to succumb to it. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news (Muppet Vision 3D in Disney World, last May) and I cried. When I saw her in the casket, I cried again. That could have been me. I thanked God for ending her pain and realized yet again how fragile life is. And then I asked God why he took her, too, like Phil. While He let them suffer for years before taking them. If it's our time to die, okay, I get that. But then why does it sometimes come with the most tragic, painful, atrocious sufferings the world has to offer? Why doesn't God stop it? I know He can. But as I said, I hate myself for even questioning Him on it. The Word says, His ways are higher than our ways, His thoughts higher than ours.
And I remember my precious Nana died almost a year ago to the date. January 28, 2009. Maybe a year prior, we were out to lunch (like we always did) and while she was going on about her aches and pains, she addressed death for the first time in front of me. She said it'd be easier than being the old lady she was, with all of her problems. I interrupted her and told her to stop. I said, "Nana, you are not going to die. Don't you want to see me walk down the aisle? Don't you want to hold your great grandbabies?" That stopped her for a little while, but I guess it was just her time to go. Nana & Poppop are "snowbirds" so when they went down to Florida in October 2008, never in a million years would I think Poppop would come home early - with Nana in a casket. In fact, the thought of it now even makes me sick. I had the relationship with my Nana that most people can only dream of. I won't write too much here since I have pages and pages of memories on earlier posts, but she was one of my favorite people in the world. She got me, and I got her. She took pride in teaching her "Mandy Mine" a good portion of everything I know. She was classy, beautiful, and loving. Now, approaching the anniversary of her death, it takes my breath away to see my mom missing her so badly because I'm sure her very own daughter would miss her more than her granddaughter - and I miss her like the going-to-vomit can't-stop-crying take-the-pain-away type missing. It's been a year, and although it doesn't feel as overbearing, it hasn't lost its entire heaviness, and it definitely hurts like crazy. Her life was a big one in every way, and there is no way any of it is going to be forgotten anytime soon. I still cry for her so hard I feel like my stomach will come up through my mouth - death is hard. But thank God, I know I'll see her again someday. I can't wait, I really can't.
Then last night, less than 24 hours ago, God took a friend of mine. His name was Gregory, and his sister was Leslie. They moved here from Chicago and we went to church together. Our families became friends, and then in the beginnig part of 2008, the doctors found out Greg had a brain tumor. He went from worse to miraculously better to spiraling downhill fast. His parents, sister, and various friends from church stayed at his bedside every day of these last years. Yes, a lot of us from Akron went to Chicago just to cheer up a friend. That's the good kind of friendship, I'm sure of it. A bunch of his Ohio friends even surprised him with a party in Chicago (that made the news!) for his 20th birthday. But now he's gone, and again, we are wondering why he was in such constant suffering only to die. I know he's enjoying heaven, and although I'm not feeling my best right now, I know I need to go be with his family in Chicago. Friends get each other through stuff like this. Friends and God. There will be so much of both this coming weekend, I'm sure.
And to think this is all just a normal part of this crazy miracle called life...
