Laying on the examination table yesterday waiting to be told when I could stop holding my breath, I was deep in thought. While the technician was x-raying my sacrum, I thought about all the people in the world going through the same thing, only alone. See, even though I had to hold my arm a certain way and lay in an uncomfortable position that caused some pain and I had a thin sheet over my legs because my jeans were around my ankles....Mark and the kids were out in the waiting room. They would be smiling and encouraging when I was finished here. Mark had already promised to take us all out for lunch. Almost like a fun summer day with just a little trip to the hospital thrown in.
When I'd checked in at the front I told Andrea, the woman at the helm, that I noticed she'd gotten some sun since I'd seen her last. She smiled and updated me on her summertime fun with her son and then checked me in. I got to go back and do the whole admissions process with Sheila. Not only do I know Sheila from church, she's walked me through this admissions process more than once. I love her smile and aim to see it every time I sit in her cubicle. Yesterday she said, "I'm praying for you, Kim, but I'm not worried. When you lose your sense of humor, THEN I'll worry!" And that's what started me thinking about how blessed I am.
The morning had started as normally as those recently before it. For the past several weeks, I've had numerous and varying symptoms that, put together, have baffled who I've come to call my "Dream Team". I have always wanted to be a mysterious woman....didn't quite picture it this way however. Let me just name some of the symptoms. You'll see why, alone, they are not alarming...not even worth more than Tylenol or maybe a Z-Pack. But put together, they are something of an enigma.
Fever (spikes to 102 during the night; medicine at its max brings it down to 99.8)
Joint pain
General flu-like feeling
Loss of appetite (although I never seem to luck into the "weight loss" symptom!)
Headache
Dizziness
Chest pain (not shortness of breath or heart-related...more like muscle aches)
Forgetfulness (more than the normal "what did I come into this room for?")
Abdominal pain
Back pain
.........Did I mention I was bitten by a tick?
All test results for tick-fever, lyme, etc, were negative. They even re-checked. We treated it anyway. Doxycycline (after the Z-Pack). Symptoms persisted. In fact, I remember one day a few weeks ago...I had gone in to the doctor's office to hear the results of the latest blood tests and CT scans. While I was there, my wonder-nurse Lisa took my temp (routine). Next thing I know, she's wrapping a blanket around me and giving me a big pill to swallow. Guess my fever had spiked. Again.
While waiting for test results, I was also waiting to feel better. I was told to call immediately if I experienced new symptoms. I thought surely I should be experiencing fewer symptoms!
We waded through the miry pit of four possible diagnoses before realizing this was bigger than the average "don't feel good" virus. I lost track of what all we tested for. It was interesting at first and I paid close attention. But the appointments started going the same....like we hadn't gotten it right yet and needed to have several takes. Lisa.....fever.....blood pressure low....accelerated heart rate.... PA Mendy...very thorough....lots of questions that I can only answer "kinda"......PA Nicole...worked in Rheumatology for five years and knows her stuff.....lots of questions that I could honestly answer "I don't know".......taking blood and trying not to stick where I've already been stuck and trying to navigate around the I-look-like-a-junkie bruises....new antibiotic (third one so far)....have we x-rayed this?.....have we tried MRI?....websites.....sitting with my "Dream Team" and Googling my symptoms.....visit the hospital...new tests.....
It can get discouraging. Especially when new symptoms are fantastical. I hear myself talking with the "Dream Team" and think, "Are they buying this? This doesn't sound real at ALL!" But they always buy it. They test and prove it. It's almost as if they are convincing me of my own illness. Oh, you're probably wondering what kind of symptoms could cause me to doubt my own health-status.....one example is cold thigh. Go ahead, Google it. For I-don't-know-how-long, I've had this patch on my upper right thigh that's cold like I've just had an icepack on it. Weird. I didn't hide this, it just never occurred to me that it was an actual symptom. Frankly, I chalked it up to being overweight. Maybe poor circulation due to fatness. You know? Nope...real symptom.
Another one just came up this past week. It was yet one more thing I hadn't associated with the realm of symptoms. I had become obsessed with cleaning my eyeglasses. They were so scratched and dirty and I couldn't imagine what the film was that covered both lenses. Then, for no reason I could think of, my eyes became dramatically bloodshot. Not a little bloodshot. Full on I-just-swam-for-thirty-hours-smoked-some-weed-and-haven't-slept-for-two-weeks bloodshot. I called the doctor the next morning. Of course, they wanted me to come right in.
Turns out there's no film on my eyeglasses. I was sent to my eye doctor, post haste, and he examined me up close and personal. Get this... there are so many white blood cells directly behind my corneas right now that I'm seeing them. I see as if I'm looking through thick fog, smoke, or frosted glass. Google Temporal Arteritis. See what you think.
Anyway, back on that exam table, waiting for Jane to tell me I could breathe, I just realized that, even if I didn't have Mark and the kids physically with me, I'm still not alone. Even if I didn't have Andrea-at-the-front-desk, Sheila-in-admissions, the "Dream Team", Linda-my-friend-working-with-my-other-friend-the-eye-doctor, and all of those who are there every time with a smile and a needle stick....I'm still not alone.
No matter how this turns out (and I know it will be perfect and wonderful), I must always be careful to remember how important it is to smile and keep that sense of humor. I must always try to serve others even while I'm being served. I must always remember I am never alone.
Oh....wow....better call the doctor. I feel a new symptom....
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Gold Medalist Mama
Athletes who train for the Olympics are insanely disciplined. They are focused on one goal and do not deviate from striving toward it. They maintain a strict regimen and enjoy very few luxuries along the way. One of the many differences between an Olympic athlete and a Non-Olympic athlete is who they are representing. They are not representing themselves, a team, or an advertising sponsor as much as they are representing their home country. This is a huge burden as well as a huge honor. They are under scrutiny all of the time; their time is not their own. They must endure impossible expectations and they do it publicly.
As mothers, we are often called to a higher standard of living because our lives are no longer our own either. We now hold tiny trusts in our arms. We represent hearts that have been entrusted to us. We must endure ups and downs in such a way as to remember that we are now living examples of the future for our children. We are the first female in their lives and will set the pace for their view of mothers, wives, women.
There's no clocking out at the end of the day. Motherhood requires a lifetime commitment. We're all in. Motherhood also requires help. Olympians not only have physical trainers and nutritionists to make sure they remain in top condition, but they have mental health professionals on stand-by. Being an Olympian is mentally taxing. Not only must the athlete stay focused and primed for performance all the time while living in a world of those taking breaks, vacations, adventures, but they must also be willing to choose their sport over relationships.
As a mother, we make the decision to be our children's guide before being their friend. We must also be willing to get rid of negative relationships that, while might be tolerable for a woman on her own, would be a bad mix with children.
This comparison is more intense than Ninja Mama and Super Mama. It sounds like being a mother is no fun. On the contrary. Fun is part of the deal. Olympians love their work. Passion is just as important as commitment...in fact, it's the driving force. And mamas absolutely must be passionate about loving their littles.
Commitment, discipline, sacrifice, passion.... Welcome to motherhood. Now get up there and get your well-earned gold medal!
As mothers, we are often called to a higher standard of living because our lives are no longer our own either. We now hold tiny trusts in our arms. We represent hearts that have been entrusted to us. We must endure ups and downs in such a way as to remember that we are now living examples of the future for our children. We are the first female in their lives and will set the pace for their view of mothers, wives, women.
There's no clocking out at the end of the day. Motherhood requires a lifetime commitment. We're all in. Motherhood also requires help. Olympians not only have physical trainers and nutritionists to make sure they remain in top condition, but they have mental health professionals on stand-by. Being an Olympian is mentally taxing. Not only must the athlete stay focused and primed for performance all the time while living in a world of those taking breaks, vacations, adventures, but they must also be willing to choose their sport over relationships.
As a mother, we make the decision to be our children's guide before being their friend. We must also be willing to get rid of negative relationships that, while might be tolerable for a woman on her own, would be a bad mix with children.
This comparison is more intense than Ninja Mama and Super Mama. It sounds like being a mother is no fun. On the contrary. Fun is part of the deal. Olympians love their work. Passion is just as important as commitment...in fact, it's the driving force. And mamas absolutely must be passionate about loving their littles.
Commitment, discipline, sacrifice, passion.... Welcome to motherhood. Now get up there and get your well-earned gold medal!
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Super Mama
I love Super Heroes. Super Man, Batman, Wonder Woman, Spider Man, Captain America, all of them. They are iconic for those of us who love justice. They also remind me of mamas.
Most super heroes begin their journey into heroism very roughly... made fun of in school, bitten by a creature, abandoned, orphaned, abused, forgotten, etc... They hit the crucial moment of decision, will they become bitter, self-destructive victims? Or will they rise above tragedy and make their lives about serving others...anonymously?
Super Heroes are followed, adored, and often very misunderstood. In fact, super heroes are often very lonely beings. When they are "themselves" and not heroed up, super heroes are regular people with regular jobs. Even though it would not do for Green Lantern to pout, or for Black Canary to whine; although seeing Aqua Man disappointed or watching Robin's heart get broken is unheard of; as regular people, they suffer regular emotions. But they do not give in to them. They make it their business to notice injustice and then quietly, they do something about it. They sacrifice their own hopes, dreams, and desires in order to create a better world.
They cry alone and they do not accept praise graciously. They take on worries, concerns, and seemingly insurmountable burdens. When it comes to doing good, there is no question, there is no rest. Their happiness is only as strong as the happiness of those they love.
It is not far fetched at all to say that Mamas are Super Heroes. It's a bird! It's a plane! No!! It's your Mama!
Most super heroes begin their journey into heroism very roughly... made fun of in school, bitten by a creature, abandoned, orphaned, abused, forgotten, etc... They hit the crucial moment of decision, will they become bitter, self-destructive victims? Or will they rise above tragedy and make their lives about serving others...anonymously?
Super Heroes are followed, adored, and often very misunderstood. In fact, super heroes are often very lonely beings. When they are "themselves" and not heroed up, super heroes are regular people with regular jobs. Even though it would not do for Green Lantern to pout, or for Black Canary to whine; although seeing Aqua Man disappointed or watching Robin's heart get broken is unheard of; as regular people, they suffer regular emotions. But they do not give in to them. They make it their business to notice injustice and then quietly, they do something about it. They sacrifice their own hopes, dreams, and desires in order to create a better world.
They cry alone and they do not accept praise graciously. They take on worries, concerns, and seemingly insurmountable burdens. When it comes to doing good, there is no question, there is no rest. Their happiness is only as strong as the happiness of those they love.
It is not far fetched at all to say that Mamas are Super Heroes. It's a bird! It's a plane! No!! It's your Mama!
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Ninja Mama
This begins a short series of blogs during which I will attempt to create a visual of what mamas all over the world truly aspire to. What comes to mind when you think about Ninjas? Wearing all black? Sneaking around? Secretive? What does any of that have to do with being a mama?!
Allow me to explain.
Very little is known about the origin of Ninjas. They are thought to have began as early as the 6th Century. But nothing is recorded until the 15th Century when Ninjas became organized and began training specifically for their missions. Even during the 15th Century and later, the doings of Ninjas is vague. Much is attributed to legend and myth. In fact, in one of the more popular historical records, Ninjas were "known" to walk on water, become invisible, and perform magic. Also, the fact that they existed does not mean that these records include their names. Ninjas are, by definition, secret agents.
They are not to be confused with Samurais. Samurais were soldiers that held to rules of honor and duty. Ninjas held to no code except staying anonymous. They did whatever it took to accomplish their mission. And above all, they were not seen accomplishing it. Never was their motivation praise, fame, respect, gratitude, or reward. They had a job, they did it, and they moved on to the next job. Quietly. There was no mission they would not undertake. They stayed focused. Once a Ninja, always a Ninja.
Also, just because they were quiet didn't mean they worked alone. In fact, a common tactic of Ninjas required one to carry another on his back to complete the mission. They often helped each other, quietly, with roles understood, neither more important than the other.
Does this sound at all familiar? As mamas, we will do whatever it takes to accomplish our mission. Keep our children safe; equip them to fight evil; teach them how to be the best them they can be in a fallen world. We will clean up poop, cook crazy meals, work into the night, sing until we are hoarse, sit as still as stone, read and read and read until the book falls apart, wake up at the slightest noise, get to the emergency room in nothing but a t-shirt and slippers in milliseconds, sew on patches, kiss boo-boos, dig out boogers, work for camp-money, sell cookies, endure sleepovers, and so on and so on.
Not for thanks. Not for credit. Not for reward. In fact, if that was our motivation, we would be disappointed five minutes into the role of motherhood. Mamas must be skilled in the gifts of covert, sneaky, and secretive. Mamas must have mad driving skills and an inner GPS. Mamas must have energy all the time. And, Mamas hold to no code of conduct when it comes to protecting our littles.
Once a Mama, always a Mama. To Ninja Mamas everywhere, keep on keeping on!
Allow me to explain.
Very little is known about the origin of Ninjas. They are thought to have began as early as the 6th Century. But nothing is recorded until the 15th Century when Ninjas became organized and began training specifically for their missions. Even during the 15th Century and later, the doings of Ninjas is vague. Much is attributed to legend and myth. In fact, in one of the more popular historical records, Ninjas were "known" to walk on water, become invisible, and perform magic. Also, the fact that they existed does not mean that these records include their names. Ninjas are, by definition, secret agents.
They are not to be confused with Samurais. Samurais were soldiers that held to rules of honor and duty. Ninjas held to no code except staying anonymous. They did whatever it took to accomplish their mission. And above all, they were not seen accomplishing it. Never was their motivation praise, fame, respect, gratitude, or reward. They had a job, they did it, and they moved on to the next job. Quietly. There was no mission they would not undertake. They stayed focused. Once a Ninja, always a Ninja.
Also, just because they were quiet didn't mean they worked alone. In fact, a common tactic of Ninjas required one to carry another on his back to complete the mission. They often helped each other, quietly, with roles understood, neither more important than the other.
Does this sound at all familiar? As mamas, we will do whatever it takes to accomplish our mission. Keep our children safe; equip them to fight evil; teach them how to be the best them they can be in a fallen world. We will clean up poop, cook crazy meals, work into the night, sing until we are hoarse, sit as still as stone, read and read and read until the book falls apart, wake up at the slightest noise, get to the emergency room in nothing but a t-shirt and slippers in milliseconds, sew on patches, kiss boo-boos, dig out boogers, work for camp-money, sell cookies, endure sleepovers, and so on and so on.
Not for thanks. Not for credit. Not for reward. In fact, if that was our motivation, we would be disappointed five minutes into the role of motherhood. Mamas must be skilled in the gifts of covert, sneaky, and secretive. Mamas must have mad driving skills and an inner GPS. Mamas must have energy all the time. And, Mamas hold to no code of conduct when it comes to protecting our littles.
Once a Mama, always a Mama. To Ninja Mamas everywhere, keep on keeping on!
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
I'm Not Her BFF
I will never be friends with my daughter. This makes me sad. It also makes me determined. We are given "jobs" to do, responsibilities, by God and parenting is one of them. I have failed many times in the past (and will in the future, I'm sure) by not giving this assignment the energy and effort it calls for. Being given a responsibility is serious. Being given a responsibility by God is a calling, an honor, and to be undertaken with grave effort. We are to do everything as to the Lord. Parenting is just a step further. (In my opinion)
Maggie is eleven. It's a fun age. We are beginning to share interests. She gets my jokes. She's pretty funny with her own jokes. She is able to take on more responsibility and be a true help around the house. It's fun hanging out with her. But I'm not her friend.
I am not saying we don't laugh together and act silly and share confidences. We do. And it's wonderful. What I'm saying is that I have a higher calling where Maggie concerned. I must be forever vigilant with her soul. I don't know how long I have with her. I may be called Home tomorrow. I must do everything I can to ensure that she is fully equipped to fight the Evil One. I must do all I can to teach her that Jesus is the answer to every question.
In practical terms, I must also teach her to survive on this planet without me. Cooking, cleaning, managing her money and her time. Choosing friends, buying clothes, deciding on a career.
I will never control her. She must make all of these decisions one day without me. But how I guide her in the decisions today will ultimately determine her wisdom in making choices later. That's why I will never be her friend. I will not say, "Whatever you want, Dear."
Every moment is a teaching moment. Relax and enjoy her sweetness? Absolutely. Laugh and enjoy her silliness? Of course! Call her out when she's wrong, instruct her when she's confused, never let her get away with disobedience? Imperative.
But what if she's mad at me? I hate that. I hate knowing she's disappointed, hurt, mad, sad. And yet, what is the alternative? It's just going to be rough-going at times. I am the grown-up here. And I'm not motivated by trying to get her to like me. In fact, I know very well that there will be stretches of time when she doesn't like me at all. And that must simply be enough validation for me to know I'm doing it right.
I'll never be her BFF. But she'll never doubt my love for her. She's my favorite Maggie in the world. I am prouder of her every day. Laughter, arguments, illness, disappointments, grief, joys, triumphs..... I want to share every minute with her. And I want to be worthy of the gift that is Maggie Pruitt. One day she'll be a gift to the world. Daughters are precious. Mothers are necessary. It will not ever be "balanced". She will never love me the way I love her. She will never thank me or truly appreciate any sacrifice I make. I must not be motivated by the desire for recognition. God sees. God knows. And that is more that enough.
We'll talk about the role of fatherhood and sons in a later post. :)
Maggie is eleven. It's a fun age. We are beginning to share interests. She gets my jokes. She's pretty funny with her own jokes. She is able to take on more responsibility and be a true help around the house. It's fun hanging out with her. But I'm not her friend.
I am not saying we don't laugh together and act silly and share confidences. We do. And it's wonderful. What I'm saying is that I have a higher calling where Maggie concerned. I must be forever vigilant with her soul. I don't know how long I have with her. I may be called Home tomorrow. I must do everything I can to ensure that she is fully equipped to fight the Evil One. I must do all I can to teach her that Jesus is the answer to every question.
In practical terms, I must also teach her to survive on this planet without me. Cooking, cleaning, managing her money and her time. Choosing friends, buying clothes, deciding on a career.
I will never control her. She must make all of these decisions one day without me. But how I guide her in the decisions today will ultimately determine her wisdom in making choices later. That's why I will never be her friend. I will not say, "Whatever you want, Dear."
Every moment is a teaching moment. Relax and enjoy her sweetness? Absolutely. Laugh and enjoy her silliness? Of course! Call her out when she's wrong, instruct her when she's confused, never let her get away with disobedience? Imperative.
But what if she's mad at me? I hate that. I hate knowing she's disappointed, hurt, mad, sad. And yet, what is the alternative? It's just going to be rough-going at times. I am the grown-up here. And I'm not motivated by trying to get her to like me. In fact, I know very well that there will be stretches of time when she doesn't like me at all. And that must simply be enough validation for me to know I'm doing it right.
I'll never be her BFF. But she'll never doubt my love for her. She's my favorite Maggie in the world. I am prouder of her every day. Laughter, arguments, illness, disappointments, grief, joys, triumphs..... I want to share every minute with her. And I want to be worthy of the gift that is Maggie Pruitt. One day she'll be a gift to the world. Daughters are precious. Mothers are necessary. It will not ever be "balanced". She will never love me the way I love her. She will never thank me or truly appreciate any sacrifice I make. I must not be motivated by the desire for recognition. God sees. God knows. And that is more that enough.
We'll talk about the role of fatherhood and sons in a later post. :)
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The Fabulous Five
We strive to make memories that will always lead us into the Light
