Lessons from Loon Loop

Do Pharisees use CFLs?

2011-06-12T15:42:00.000-05:00

We went to the recycling center the other day to pick up some finished compost. We had finally moved into place some retaining wall bricks around a shrub, and needed some back fill. We reclaimed the bricks from a neighbor who didn't want the flower beds the previous owners had built and offered them to us. Good recyclers that we are, we hauled them over. They made a nice border around the shrubs we dug up from an old farmstead that was being turned into a new development, the iris bulbs I got on Freecycle, and the lilacs a friend dug up for us on his farm. At the base of the shrubs I laid the branches I had trimmed from the red cedar, another rescue from a construction site. No sense in wasting good biomass, and a good drainage additive as well!

We loaded shovels and tarp into the Subaru (that's what we earth-friendly greenies drive, not because it's less carbon emissions, just 'cause it makes us look cool.) We brought home several loads of finished compost - rich earthy soil made from other peoples grass clippings and weeds. The county does a lot of work chipping it up finely, and turning it over so that it composts quickly. I'm not sure how they do that. Maybe a gas powered grinder? I bet they have a bobcat or even a backhoe to do the big piles.

It was hot and sweaty work getting it unloaded and into the bed. We took a break, headed inside where it was air conditioned, and cracked ourselves a couple of ice cold sodas and drank them straight from the aluminum cans.

It sure feels good using your muscles, "living off the land", and saving the planet. All that recycling and reusing we did today sure goes a long way toward keeping the earth safe.

Presenting the Bride

2011-04-30T17:24:00.002-05:00

I watched the royal wedding yesterday, as did most of the world.
The most poignant scene for me, however was Kate being helped into
the car by her father. He gently and carefully folded her gown's
train, and handed it in, to be placed on the seat beside her.
He gingerly slide in next to her and smiled at his beautiful
daughter.

She sat enthroned in the yards of satin and lace, a jewel in a
setting of cream and ivory, waiting to be presented to a delighted
prince.

Her father gently lifted and smoothed the fabrics, so that none of
it would be creased or dirtied. He beamed at her, obviously proud and
pleased.

It suddenly occurred to me that is exactly how our Heavenly Father
feels. He protects and surrounds us, the Bride of Christ, keeping us
from soil and damage, so we can be presented as a perfect gift for
His son, the Prince of Peace. All we go through, our trials and
pains, are preparation for the that glorious presentation.
I am awed and humbled, once again, but the love the Father and Son
have for us, the Beloved.

Right brain, left brain, can't decide

2011-04-21T17:09:00.000-05:00

As I continue to heal from my stroke and subsequent seizures I am constantly being forced to find new ways to do old things. I've had to learn to dress myself and not leave the house unbuttoned. I've had to learn to turn on a timer so I don't walk away from the stove and forget about it entirely. I've had to relearn driving routes I've know for 11 years, by re-driving and re-memorizing landmarks and street signs.

Now I've had to relearn how to learn. Before I was a "give me a fork and let me dig in" kind of learner. I set up a systematic approach; a step by step plan to tackle a new skill or realm of information. I can't do that now. The stroke has damaged the part of my brain that deals with sequential processing; step 1, step 2, etc. I also have a limited "working memory", the number of things I can hang onto in short term at one time. This makes learning anything new difficult.

My hubby bought me a wonderful electronic keyboard a Christmas ago, thinking it would be good physical and intellectual therapy. It would be, if I could figure out what to do with it. I diligently look at the little black notes, count out "every good boy does fine", line up my fingers on the keys and then try to play. Some place between the treble clef and the keyboard all the notes and thoughts tilt off the page and out of my brain and nothing connects. I tried to play a little song I once learned as a child, and couldn't do it. I burst into tears and sat with my head in my hands and wept.

After I'd boohooed for awhile I mopped myself up and tried again. I would not let that black and white "thing" in the other room beat me. If I couldn't learn it by studying it, I'd learn it by sidling up close enough to spy on it and learn its musical secrets. I put on one of the pre-programmed lessons, slowed it way down, and listened, plunking along when I thought I could guess which note was next. I actually hit a few. The computer told me I did "OK". Well, that's good enough for me. For now.

I've had to do that with other things. Just do one little bit. Let it sinter in my brain. Try it again later. Lather, rinse, repeat.

For someone who has always been very literal, mathematical, systematic, this is weird. What's weirder yet is that I have to let my "right brain" do all the work. Yes, it's my right side that's damaged. Maybe it's rejoicing over its chance to do some of the work. Jumping up and down shouting "pick me, pick me!"

So, I toddle along, dabbling, playing. Someday I will play a whole song. Which side of my brain gets to do it? We shall see.

A call to arms

2010-07-18T09:20:00.000-05:00

Find something true. Find that truth and taste it. Roll it around in your mouth, feel it with your tongue, your teeth, the sides of your cheeks, then swallow it whole. Feel it there in your heart, warming and warning. Then, when you hear the lies you will know the truth; its flavor and texture and smell. When that knowledge is firmly in place, find another truth as well. Taste that truth and another and another. Fill yourself with truths to defend and protect yourself from the anorexia of lies.

Lessons from Loon Loop: Green Movement as Religion

2010-06-24T10:22:00.000-05:00

Lessons from Loon Loop: Green Movement as Religion

I wrote this originally in April of 2009. I'm certain I had not read Boris Johnson's essay in the Sunday Times from London, but it seems as if we were both thinking the same thing. Read his article and see if you agree.

Climate Change as a religion?

Posted by Boris Office

on February 2, 2006 | 100 comments

the fear of climate change is like a religion in this vital sense, that it is veiled in mystery

We’ve lost our fear of hellfire, but put climate change in its place

I used to have a mother-in-law called Gaia, so any book called The Revenge of Gaia is likely to cause a flutter of panic in my breast; and by the time I had finished the new best-seller by green prophet James Lovelock, I am afraid I was in a state of brow-drenched hysteria.

The good news is that the Gaia in question is not my ex-mother-in-law. The bad news is that she represents a chthonic deity even more capable of vengeance upon errant mankind. Gaia is the Earth herself; she is Mother Nature; she taps her foot in ever-growing impatience at the antics of our species; and, according to Professor Lovelock, she is about to exact the most terrifying punishment for our excesses. She is about to get carboniferous on our ass.

Lovelock has been studying climate change since the 1960s. He has been described by the New Scientist as one of the great thinkers of our age, and he was made a Companion of Honour in 2003. He knows his onions, and, indeed, how much moisture they require.

He has been around the world looking at the rising tidelines, sniffing the smoke from the burning rainforest, listening to the roar of the ice-melt from the glaciers, and he has come to the conclusion that the climate change lobby has got it hopelessly wrong.

We delude ourselves, says Lovelock, if we think that the global temperature is going to rise in small increments over the next century. We are like the blindfolded crew of a boat approaching Niagara Falls, and there will come a moment when the temperature will rise with all the equivalent vertical horror. Some time in the next hundred years, he says, it is suddenly going to get hotter and hotter and hotter.

“Billions will die,” says Lovelock, who tells us that he is not normally a gloomy type. Human civilisation will be reduced to a “broken rabble ruled by brutal warlords”, and the plague-ridden remainder of the species will flee the cracked and broken earth to the Arctic, the last temperate spot, where a few breeding couples will survive.

It is going to be a “hell of a climate”, he says, with Europe 8C warmer than it is today; and the real killer, says Lovelock, is that there is not a damn thing we can do about it. We are already pumping out so much carbon dioxide, with no prospect of abatement from the growing economies of China and India, that our fate is sealed.

We in Britain produce only two per cent of the world’s carbon output and, even if we closed down British industry overnight; even if we abolished the winter fuel allowance and ordered the pensioners to wear more sweaters; even if we forested the entire country with windfarms, it would make not a bean of difference.

It would be like trying to cool a volcano with an ice cube. The Kyoto protocol; the climate change levy; the windows and doors regulation – they are all as pointless as telling a patient with terminal lung cancer that he should give up smoking.

And when the Great Heat has destroyed our industry, and wrecked civilisation, it will get worse, says Lovelock. Because then we will lose the aerosol of dust and smog that has kept out some of the sun’s rays; and it will get hotter still.

There is nothing for it, he says, but to forget the piffling Kyoto-led regulation, and build nuclear power plants, so as not to be dependent on Russian gas, and send bodies of fit young men and women to East Anglia, there to build levees against the coming inundations. An international solution is now beyond our reach, he says, and we must look to Britain first.

Phew-ee. Is Lovelock right? I haven’t the faintest; but as I listen to his Mad Max-style vision of the coming century, I find my mind bubbling with blasphemous thoughts.

Wasn’t it pretty hot in the 10th century? Didn’t the Romans have vineyards in Northumberland? And is it really so exceptionally hot in modern Europe? According to yesterday’s paper, Lisbon has just had its first heavy snowfall for 52 years. What’s that about?

I feel I cannot possibly disagree with Lovelock, or with the overwhelming body of scientists who attest to the reality of climate change. I am sure that they are, in some sense, right; and it feels instinctively true that we are a nasty, over-polluting species; and there is something horrifying, when you look at those pictures of the world at night, to see the phosphorescent sprawl of humanity.

But the more one listens to sacerdotal figures such as Lovelock, and the more one studies public reactions to his prophecies, the clearer it is that we are not just dealing with science (though science is a large part of it); this is partly a religious phenomenon.

Humanity has largely lost its fear of hellfire, and yet we still hunger for a structure, a point, an eschatology, a moral counterbalance to our growing prosperity. All that is brilliantly supplied by climate change. Like all the best religions, fear of climate change satisfies our need for guilt, and self-disgust, and that eternal human sense that technological progress must be punished by the gods.

And the fear of climate change is like a religion in this vital sense, that it is veiled in mystery, and you can never tell whether your acts of propitiation or atonement have been in any way successful. One sect says we must build more windfarms, and these high priests will be displeased with what Lovelock has to say. Another priestly caste curses the Government’s obsession with nuclear power – a programme Lovelock has had the courage to support.

Some scientific hierophants now tell us that trees – trees, the good guys – are the source of too much methane, and are contributing to global warming. Huh? We in the poor muddled laity scratch our heads and pray. Who is right? Who is wrong?

If Lovelock is only half-right, then we must have an immediate programme to pastoralise the global economy and reduce emissions. The paradox is that, if he is completely right, there is not a lot we can do, and we might as well enjoy our beautiful planet while we can.

Or is he completely wrong? To say that would be an offence not just against science, but against a growing world religion.

Range hood as a metaphor for life

2010-01-27T10:29:00.000-06:00

Woke up in a cleaning mood today. Not having that happen very often motivates me to "use it or lose it." Tackled the stove first. Ran the burners and drip pans through the dishwasher, wiped down the top and back. Turned my attention to the underside of the range hood. EE-yuck.
Now I do not claim to be a good cook. I am proud, however, to call myself a messy one. I figure that what I lack in creativity and taste can be compensated for with volume and distance traveled. When I cook something, you KNOW I've been there.

So it came as no surprise to find enough raw materials under the range hood to reconstitute into a passable campfire meal. I sprayed everything down, and left it to soak. There is something in cleaning supplies that triggers introspection in me.

I thought about why it is that I don't clean under there more often. I realized that it really is a metaphor for life. The places I am busiest, messiest, are those places I don't often contemplate. Most of living goes on in my mind and soul, but the externals, the burners and dials, get the most attention. The filter for yuck, the fan filter, in this case, catches all the crud and keeps it there.

Do I spend more time on my body, my outward activities and belongings than I do to the filters in my mind and soul? Do they need cleaning?

Hmm.. Something to ponder.

Everyone's shedding!

2010-01-19T16:24:00.002-06:00

My friends have been talking about "shedding" ie. decluttering and simplifying their lives. That's all well and good, but why does my family think they need to join in. It's not the same thing, anyway. Their "shedding" involves their stuff, draped over chairs, spread across the carpet, dragged in from the yard and left on the kitchen counter.

I vacuum; ds comes in and kicks off his shoes in the hallway, spreading sand across the newly vacuumed and mopped floor. Hubby hangs hats, coats and shirts on any available post, usually the kitchen chairs or the newel on the stairs. An attractive look, really. The dishes get done, and as soon as the sink is empty someone dumps more dirty dishes in. Do they not see the empty sink and think'Hmm, maybe I can just put this in the dishwasher?' No! Of course not!

I wash clothes; leave the clean ones folded nicely in the basket, ready to be put away. do they get put away?No, just more dirty clothes get piled on.

Then the cats. Puffs of hair everywhere.

I give up. Does nobody notice what I do around here?

Global warming...

2010-01-16T17:38:00.002-06:00

We could use some. It's been the coldest, snowiest winter we've had since I was a kid. Out heat bill is astronomical. I can't see out one window due to drifted snow.

Greenhouse gas? I'll give you greenhouse gas. I had to make a pot of chili with red pepper just to warm us up. There's your greenhouse gas! Feeling better already?

If I only had a brain...

2009-01-08T18:24:00.000-06:00

Or at least a different one. To get you up to speed...In Feb last year I had a stroke. In July of last year I had a very bad seizure, ambulance to one hospital and helicopter to another. Was doing okay until November of this year when I had another seizure. Back to hospital, where they immediately whisked me off to another hospital capable of dealing with me.Now, I'm on seizure medications, have had some "breakthrough" seizures, and have had to double my medication dosage. Still can't drive. I'm being hauled everywhere by my patient and loving husband. My son now has more incentive than ever to get his license, and is slogging through the driver's ed curriculum. I'd be thrilled to have him driving,both for my sake and for his!In spite of all this, I'm happy! Either I don't get it, I'm more brain-damaged than I thought, or I'm in total denial. Don't care though. There's an incredible freedom that comes from having stared down the throat of death and disability, and been barfed back up on the shore. Gross visuals, I know, but I do feel a bit Jonah-ish. I didn't go into this kicking and screaming, but I am certainly glad to be in the beach again anyway. Enough for now. The hand dexterity required for typing takes a lot out of me, and besides, it's time for supper.

The Sacred and the Mundane

2008-08-28T20:47:00.001-05:00

The Sacred and the Mundane

Why do we assign value to the parts of our lives, creating lists of Really Good Things, below that, Stuff That Just Happens, and way at the bottom, Junk We Get Through? There is a mindset that says that we work hard to get to the Good Things, and put up with all the other in order to get there. What happened to the value of everyday things?

For instance, as a home school mom, I find I have to “get through” those tedious days of memorizing the multiplication tables, or the screaming, hair-pulling days of complete rebellion (mine and my son's!). I stand it because there are those moments of crystal clarity, the times where you hold your breath and absorb the moment – that moment when he “gets it” or sees life in a new way, or melts your heart with thankfulness.

But what about the ordinary? Are there any rewards in Heaven for those of us that don't climb mountains or write novels or sing arias? Do we get credit for just doing our calling? Is the ordinary sacred?

I know we do, and it is. Think about the Levites, that special group of Hebrews who were set apart to keep the Tabernacle in the wilderness. They had different rules, were supported by the rest of the tribe – they were special! But think more about it. Besides caring for all the gold stuff, and doing the daily offerings, they had to maintain the Tabernacle. Let's really think about this. It was a goat hair tent, set up in the middle of the desert, where lots of people walked in and out and lots of butchering went on. They had to be janitors! In a really dirty environment! Do you think this was Junk To Get Through in order to be important Levities? No! This was as sacred to God as the rest of it.

So where do we go with this? I believe to to live life abundantly, we must live it fully. We should be as present in the mundane as in the amazing. Washing dishes can be a sacrament. Tucking in your children at night with love is an act of worship to their Creator. Simply being aware of what we are doing and why we are doing it can be as satisfying as the highest praise from someone else. Take time today to find the sacred. It's all around you, filling your life, but you must look for it.

Red visits friends

2008-07-30T20:09:00.000-05:00

Orange vacations on the coast

2008-07-30T20:07:00.000-05:00

Why Gummi Bears?

2008-07-30T19:54:00.002-05:00

Good question? I spent the last week at Abbott Northwestern, some of it in a coma, most of it in the ICU and many days on a ventilator. If you've ever been on a ventilator, it gives you a tremendously sore throat. My mom brought me gummi bears to suck on; they are very soothing on the throat. So the pay back the helpful bears, I'm giving them a chance to experience the finer things in life, just like Flat Stanley.

Green Gummi at the Street Rod show

2008-07-30T19:49:00.001-05:00

The Need to Look Forward

2008-06-17T12:30:00.005-05:00

I found a fascinating first-person story of a woman's journey through stroke and recovery. It is word-for-word excerpts from her diary, interspersed with entries by her neurologist, Louis R. Caplan, professor of neurology at Harvard Medical School. He writes this:

Those who dwell on their handicaps trap themselves in the idea that they must be exactly as they were before the stroke. They remain eternal patients and often forget to live...Successful people do not swell on this loss of capabilities. They emphasize different directions. With time comes experience and changes in goals. directions and activities. Our lives are a series of changing passages.

Progress Report!

2008-06-13T17:08:00.002-05:00

I've been feeling tremendously sorry for myself because I can't think or type and work as fast as I used to. I am dyslexic and forgetful. I am now one of the ranks of people with ADD. If I get more than 2 feet away from the task I was doing, I get distracted by something else and wander off. I've realized that if I want to keep track of what I'm doing I have to write it down.

I drove around today to do errands. I carefully wrote out each destination, and what I needed to do or get there. After completion I checked each thing off. Guess what? Success! I came home with everything I needed to get, didn't take any wrong turns or get sidetracked! I'd even picked up some more books about stroke from the library. I didn't realize there were any I hadn't read yet. As I sat on the couch having my coffee and skimming the book, it dawned on me. I was SKIMMING the book. I couldn't do that 2 months ago. In order to keep continuity I needed to read each and every word. Today I picked out the portions I was interested in, effortlessly!

Woohoo!

Knitting Neurons

2008-06-11T10:36:00.003-05:00

It's been a fascinating journey so far, through CVA (cerebral vascular accident, or stroke) into recovery. There are so many parts to this. The acute medical issues, the lingering physical deficits, the psychological understanding and acceptance and now the intellectual processing glitches.

Immediately after the stroke I had numbness and "lost-ness" of my left hand and arm. I really sometimes forgot that parts of it were there. I could move everything, if I looked at it specifically, but unless I consciously "inhabited" those fingers, they just dropped off my neural map. I had quite a bit of balance trouble. Having been a skater and diver in my younger years, a strong sense of kinesthetics was always a part of me. I always knew where I was in space. To not be able to stand on one foot for even 3 seconds was incredibly frustrating. To close my eyes and immediately tip over seemed ridiculous, for someone who used to be able to spin in several directions.

The sensory overwhelm was another problem. Standing in a crowded foyer at church, with all the voices and movement and bodies made my head spin. Standing at the top of the stairs and looking at the vast space of the entryway was another spin-producer.

Physically, I have improved dramatically. My fingers are all "there", most of the time. Sometimes I realize I am not using them, and then I make a conscious effort to inhabit them once again. I can stand on one foot, a necessary skill in everyday life(!) Why I consider that such a big deal, I don't know.

Internally I've had to process and accept the idea that I'm damaged goods. I really believed that I had "dodged a bullet" and would be just fine. For some reason the results of a vision test that showed I have a vision loss in my lower left quadrant was hardest to take. It hit home then that, yes, parts of my brain ARE gone. I told a friend I was having trouble with that, and that I had hoped to get through this unscathed. She said, "None of us get through life unscathed." Wow. (Thanks, Kate.) It put it in perspective and somehow I immediately felt okay with it.

Lately the challenges I'm facing have to do with intellectual processing. I've always been a very "left-brain" thinker; analytical, linear, detailed, but at the same time my subconscious was working in creative, outside the box ways. I could work at some problem methodically and step-by-step, only to have some unique solution just pop into my head. The right brain functions were doing their thing, behind the scenes. I've noticed that seems to be lacking, perhaps because the brain injury is on the right side of my noggin. I will plod along at something, working and working, even when it's not working, thinking if I just keep doing it, it will fix itself. That creative spark is not there.

I am not tremendously worried about that at this point, (for one thing, what would that accomplish),and for another, I have made enormous strides in my recovery in the other areas, so I'm sure this will improve also. Just to hedge my bets, I'm doing as much right-brain stuff as I can, to exercise that part, and as my friend Martha said, knit some neurons. (Love that phrase!

Trilliums in Bloom

2008-05-28T18:54:00.008-05:00

Near Spooner, WI, my parents' home. The blooming is just beginning.

Bishop's Cap

2008-05-28T18:54:00.007-05:00

These are as tiny as they look.

Goodbye, Scotty

2008-05-01T17:13:00.003-05:00

Scott MacRunnel, you died too young. You were a shining star in the night sky. The nights are darker now. You will continue to shine in our hearts, and your light continues even now.

No Screen, No Fun.

2008-04-27T14:19:00.001-05:00

Carnival of Homeschooling: Homeschool kids can entertain themselves! After an episode of defiance and general naughtiness, D. was punished with "no screen" for all of today. That means no TV, computer or video games. He thought he'd be miserable all day with NOTHING TO DO!!!!

So far today he has scooped the algae out of the pond, dug up a dead fish to see how it was decomposing, made a ransom note out of letters clipped from a magazine, created characters from his tangram pieces, taken his bike apart, drawn cartoons, jumped on the trampoline, fed and watered the dogs, and put away his tent.

Poor baby.

Stroke-Dome

2008-04-26T09:36:00.004-05:00

(With apologies to Mad Max and Tina Turner.) I've been having trouble with my left hand due to my stroke. After dropping several things yesterday, I came up with a new movie scene: Stroke-Dome. "Two hands enter, one hand leaves."

Okay, so my husband thought it was funny.

Green Movement as Religion

2008-04-25T20:48:00.002-05:00

The green movement seems harmless at it's worst, and "good for the earth" at it's very best. But it has taken on all the trappings, mind-control and power-hunger of the worst religious or philosophical dogmas.

Read an essay here that explains.

Whatever it is, I'm against it.

2008-04-25T20:30:00.003-05:00

I believe some hidden cameras captured the Minnesota congress at work. See the video here!

Whatever it is, I'm against it

Rainy April Friday

2008-04-25T12:37:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to learn more than point and shoot photography. Here is an attempt to change depth of field. Keep in mind the raindrops are really a very fine mist, taken from about 6 inches away.

Make a Mix Cooking

2008-04-25T11:05:00.001-05:00

Here's a weekend worth of work!

EZ Laundry Soap

2008-04-25T10:44:00.000-05:00

This is the easiest and cheapest way to make your own laundry detergent.

Grind up one bar of soap. I use my salad shooter, but a food processor or even a cheese grater would work. Add one cup washing soda, one cup borax. Stir it up and use 1/8 cup per load. It will not suds much, unless you use hot water. It will wash in cold water. Gets out just about everything!

2008-04-11T20:11:00.000-05:00

Apr. 11, 2008 - Vision Loss-Online test

I took an online visual field test and it did show that I have a blind spot in my lower left quadrant. I thought so, since some things disappear if I look out of the corner of my eye.

Try it yourself here Vision Loss test. They will email you your results in a graph format. Interesting stuff!

I see my neurologist next week, and will let you know what I discover.

2008-03-28T22:10:00.000-05:00

Mar. 28, 2008 - Life after a stroke

Is not that much different. I have some physical and neurological deficits, but nothing that keeps me from my daily activities. I have some dyslexia with numbers and letters, I get "lost" visually, that is, I can pick out details but can't always grasp the whole.

My balance is much better than it was, and my manual dexterity is improved.

Why me? I have no idea. Why I was spared the catastrophic damage that could have occured, I don't know. I believe God knew I had work yet to do as a mom and a wife.

Life after a stroke

2008-03-28T09:54:00.000-05:00

Mar. 28, 2008 -
Is not that much different. I have some physical and neurological deficits, but nothing that keeps me from my daily activities. I have some dyslexia with numbers and letters, I get "lost" visually, that is, I can pick out details but can't always grasp the whole.
My balance is much better than it was, and my manual dexterity is improved.
Why me? I have no idea. Why I was spared the catastrophic damage that could have occurred, I don't know. I believe God knew I had work yet to do as a mom and a wife.

New Motto for Life since my stroke

2008-02-28T22:12:00.000-06:00

Feb. 24,2008 CARPE CRANIUM - Seize the Brain (what little is left of it!)

Carpe Cranium

2008-02-24T09:53:00.000-06:00

Feb. 24, 2008 1:08 PM My new motto for life
Seize the brain, what little is left of it!

Loopier Yet

2008-02-22T22:16:00.000-06:00

Life is never dull on Loon Loop. On Feb 10, Sunday morning, while I was singing in worship team, I suffered a massive stroke. I am doing well, considering what the outcome could have been. I have some motor and balance problems, but am in intensive therapy and getting better.

Loopier Yet

2008-02-22T09:52:00.000-06:00

Feb. 22, 2008 - Life is never dull on Loon Loop. On Feb 10, Sunday morning, while I was singing in worship team, I suffered a massive stroke. I am doing well, considering what the outcome could have been. I have some motor and balance problems, but am in intensive therapy and getting better.

A trip down the rabbit hole

2007-12-02T09:51:00.000-06:00

Dec. 2, 2007 - My earlier entry about my new migraine medicine was full of hope and optimism. If I'd only known what I was in for.I had reached the standard daily dosage, and still no headaches, but the side effects were getting stronger. The hardest to deal with was the anxiety. I've never been an anxious sort of person, but suddenly I was perpetually on the verge of panic. I had an ever-present feeling of impending doom. One episodes sticks in my mind. all of the sudden I was certain I couldn't handle life any more. I sat at the kitchen table, hyperventilating, and figured out how to get out of all my jobs. I'd quit teaching, quit coaching, quit church activities, quit everything. Committees, worship team, friendships; they all had to go. I just COULDN'T DO IT!!!!! I could hardly breathe, my lips were tingling from lack of oxygen and the room started going gray.Then it passed. I looked up, and thought very calmly to myself, "the stereo cabinet needs dusting."WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?!I called my doctor right then. I have to go off the medicine. She convinced me to cut back to about half, and after a week or so, I felt fairly normal again. Yikes!That wasn't the end of it, though. Two weeks ago I got hit with the mother of all migraines. I couldn't see the numbers on the phone to call my hubby. I tried to email him, couldn't see the keyboard or the screen. He later showed me the message I sent him; total gobbledygook.He came home and took me to the emergency room. They gave me a lovely cocktail of demerol and ativan, sending me off into the bliss of pain relief and sleep.Two days later, the sleeping was over, but not the problems. I couldn't recognize familiar things. My cat jumped into my lap ( you know how animals sense when you are sick and need comforting.) I didn't know this animal that jumped on me; I didn't even know it was a cat. It scared me and I flung it off me. Later, I looked out the window and saw our neighbor outside doing lawn work. He was dressed the way you expect for yard work on a cold day; grubby clothes, stocking cap. Problems was, I didn't know who he was. I called my husband over and told him there was a vagrant in the yard.The problems persisted for several weeks. Balance - I've run into the wing chair in the living room so many times I have rows of bruises on my ribs. My hips are black and blue from nailing the end tables. I can' t dial the phone- the numbers won't resolve into anything I recognize. I can't drive. I have no idea what to do when I get to an intersection. Do I get to go next? Is that person in the turning lane stopped? What do the brake lights mean? I knew it was too dangerous to drive any more. I decided not to cook unless someone was home to check on me. I've left things on the burner for hours. I've dragged my sleeve through the burner's flame. I can't read, because the words from one part of the page pop up in the white spaces somewhere else. I can't type. Extra letters and spaces appear for no reason, and I can't figure out how to fix them. The worst was trying to teach my co-op class. I looked at the syllabus I had written. It said we were going to cover pages 97-101 in the text. I couldn't comprehend what the dash meant, and I couldn't understand how to find those pages in the book. The sequential ordering of numbers was just beyond me. I called my doctor. What is wrong with me? I think it's the medicine. she agreed. I was to start tapering off right away.

One week on drugs

2007-08-02T09:50:00.000-05:00

Aug. 2, 2007 -
Today I started my twice-a-day dosage. This morning's dose has made me quite dopey, and typing is really a chore. Oh, I get all the letters in there, but the order is not quite right. I'm sure if you checked each sentence, all the appropriate letters exist, but in nowhere near the right arrangement. Thank goodness for spell check!I am losing weight! In spite of several parties with lots of high calorie snacks. I think I like this. I can be skinny, go to parties, and be dumb. Look! I'm Paris Hilton! The best thing is, no headaches. I have had a few garden-variety tension headaches, but no migraines. I still have the glare induced afterimages and light sensitivity, but no migraine. Hallelujah. I do have trouble finding words, but I hear that will pass with time.Onward and upward, or wonrdward and poarnedrard!R the medicated!

2007-07-27T09:46:00.000-05:00

Jul. 27, 2007 - Day One on Drugs
I'm sure you'll all be fascinated by this saga (yeah, right). I finally had enough of my ever-increasing migraines and went to the doctor. He put me on Topamax, an anti-seizure medication that prevents migraines. There's a huge laundry list of side effects, the best of which is effortless weight loss. I'm looking forward to that!That having been said, the others are not so fun. Inability to form and find words (yes, I'll be teaching high school writing in co-op), inability to focus (yes, we'll be doing chemistry this year), stupidity - they call it Dopa-Max, and a host of other fun stuff. So far today, after one dose last night, I am experiencing a burst of energy, some trouble with words, and a bit of dry mouth. I haven't lost one ounce of weight. I truly expected to be down a size by this morning. Sigh. What IS the matter with the pharmaceutical industry these days?Alas. I soldier on. Stupidity and skinniness, here I come.

The Sacred and the Mundane

2006-03-30T09:51:00.000-06:00

Why do we assign value to the parts of our lives, creating lists of Really Good Things, below that Stuff That Just Happens, and way at the bottom Junk We Get Through? There is a mindset that says that we work hard to get to the Good Things, and put up with all the other in order to get there. What happened to the value of everyday things?

For instance, as a homeschool mom, I find I have to “get through” those tedious days of memorizing the multiplication tables, or the screaming, hair-pulling days of complete rebellion (mine and my son's!). I stand it because there are those moments of crystal clarity, the times where you hold your breath and absorb the moment – that moment when he “gets it” or sees life in a new way, or melts your heart with thankfulness.

Au Natural

2006-03-26T09:56:00.000-06:00

Yesterday dear son was playing with the digital camera while I sat at the computer. I heard "Smile, Mom!" and turned in time for him to snap my less than elegant expression. I made the mistake of looking at the picture.

In the flattering lighting of computer monitor and desk lamp, I was jaundiced, windburned and spotty. When did I buy that turtleneck? Wait, that's MY neck!! Good heavens, when did the elastic on my body poop out like that?

Why is it that when you go barefaced in your 20s you look fresh-scrubbed and dewy, and if you try it in your forties, you look like a pair of chinos left in the dryer too long? Now that I finally have the chuzpah and self esteem to venture out in public without full-battle makeup and hair, it turns out not to be such a good choice. Why is it then when you finally come to terms with the body God gave you, you realize you really liked better the one He gave you earlier on?

There really is no justice here. And it's time to exfoliate. My, life gets complicated.

And Then You Die - A Cautionary Tale

2006-03-26T09:54:00.000-06:00

When my son was in the Toddlers in church, he had a contemporary, also a strong-willed child. I came up to the door of the Sunday School room to hear this conversation between the little boy and his mother.
“Why can’t I climb on the railings?”
“Because you’ll fall.”
“And then what?”
“Then you’ll get hurt.”
“Then what?”
“You’ll have to go to the hospital.”
“Then what?” he asked again.
“You’ll have to have shots and stitches and casts.”
“And then what?”
His mother sighed. “And then you die.”
She must have caught my quizzical look, for she turned to me and explained. No explanation of the possible consequences of any behavior seemed to be dire enough for her son. As long as it fell short of terminal, it could possibly be alright to try. Only the phrase “And then you die,” seemed to be final and dire enough.

Strong-willed kids are risk takers. It is not enough for them to be told something is dangerous or ill-advised. Oh, no, they really must find out for themselves. After all, you couldn’t possibly be telling them the truth. There are more ways to get hurt than you have outlined for them. That is more than half the appeal, anyway! As James Dobson so aptly put it in his book Bringing Up Boys, “Boys…are slower to learn from calamities. They tend to think their injuries were caused by “bad luck”. Maybe their luck will be better next time. Besides, scars are cool.” (p.4)

My suggestion is this; tell them they’ll die. No, not really. But a strong-willed kid really is calculating the cost into the “try it” equation, and most likely will try it. You as a parent can be a ready source of information about just how costly it will be. Give them the worst case scenario. When it happens, they can’t blame you for not warning them!