Afternoon/evening, Sunday, June 9, 2013 — I am so happy and a little nervous to be on my way to Stillwater, MN for this Minimally Invasive Total Knee Arthoplasty. And feeling so grateful that Michael and our gals are being well cared for at home, and being able to ride down with Danny and Su and Jessica (Danny’s daughter and Su’s stepdaughter) is pleasant and fun. I’m also thankful that Su and I are doing this whole adventure together, both of us having our right knees replaced by the same surgeon on the same day in the same hospital! And there’s a Chipotle in Stillwater! A wonderful last meal before the top of my tibia is sawed off and a bunch of space-age Smith and Nephew parts are drilled and screwed and glued in. I’ll have to get up at 5:30 a.m. to scrub my knee for three minutes with the special antibacterial soap they provided.

Early morning, Monday, June 10, 2013 — I’m so thankful that Su is coming with me for my early morning admitting process, and that she’ll have her surgery at 10:00 a.m., right after my 8:30 time. I feel nervous but fairly settled that I will take the medical team’s advice and have a spinal anesthetic rather than the general anesthetic I’ve deeply enjoyed for other surgeries (wisdom teeth, knee arthroscopy, etc.) The thought of leaning forward while my bare backside is exposed so a stranger who says he knows my spine well enough to stick a long needle in between my vertebrae is very daunting, and I’m trusting God to get me through. I’m also not thrilled about the necessary bladder catheter, but oh well.

Early afternoon, Monday, June 10, 2013 — That spinal anesthesia was a snap! I felt nothing! The sedative they gave me during the one-hour operation kept me asleep the whole time too, so I can’t remember any part of it, thank the Lord. The nurses are friendly and efficient, kind and attentive. I am not in much pain as my anesthesia begins to wear off, and I feel my feet and legs begin to tingle. The surgery went fine I’m told, and after my dinner of beef broth, grape juice, sherbet and water, I call my family back home and tell them I miss them but am being well cared for. I also learned that Su was not able to have her surgery right after me. Boo! She needs to build up her potassium level first for absolute safety, and is scheduled for tomorrow. It must be so hard to psych yourself up for something huge and then not have it happen. She and I are in rooms right next door to each other, and the nurses’ station is right outside our rooms. The pain starts to kick in and I ask for something, which they keep telling us is important. They want to stay on top of the pain and they don’t want us to be heroes and wait until we’re 8s or 9s on the 0-10 scale. So when I hit 6-7 I ring the bell and they inject something magical into my IV. I watch The Bachelorette on my wall-mounted television, and when it’s over I’m ready for sleep.

Early, early, early morning, Tuesday, June 11, 2013 — The nurses work in pairs, and the late night/early morning gals assigned to me slip in quietly, apologetic about waking me up to take my temperature, blood pressure, oxygen level and respirations. They give me my pain pill (Percocet 5 mg.) and a Vistaril, which is an antihistamine to counteract the common side affect of Percocet: intense itching. I go back to sleep easily until the nurses come in again at 4:00 a.m. to repeat the same routine. Something new for me — they take my temperature by sliding a small thingamabob over my forehead.

Morning, Tuesday, June 11, 2013 — I’m still on a liquid diet so for breakfast I get cranberry juice, beef broth, coffee and sherbet again. The juice tastes wonderful, the broth okay, and I let the rest go since I’m not feeling very hungry. I pray for Su, who’ll be having her knee replacement surgery today provided her potassium levels are good.

Noonish, Tuesday, June 11, 2013 — the catheter is removed, I sing the Hallelujah Chorus, and the Physical Therapist comes in with a walker to get me up and around. The first time I ease myself out of bed and step down on the floor I’m ready to see if that torturous knee pain is gone, and it is. Wow. There’s plenty of surgical pain because of all the tissue trauma my knee went through, but no more arthritic joint pain. I can use the bathroom in my room now, and am encouraged to take a few walks around the nursing station each day. Limping is discouraged, since it uses the wrong muscles. We’re told to walk slowly without a limp to build up the correct muscles.

Late afternoon, Tuesday, June 11, 2013 — Su’s surgery went well and she’s back in her room with Danny and Jessica to rejoice with her. I’m rejoicing too and will see her later so we can both marvel at how easy having the spinal anesthetic was. Dinner can now have some solids in it, so I’m given orange juice, cream with my tea, and something so unremarkable I truly can’t remember what it was. I didn’t eat it. I’m supposed to go home tomorrow but am wondering how that will happen now, since Su had her surgery a day later and will stay an extra day. Danny and Su will give me a ride home. I think about checking into a hotel for one night until we can all head home on Thursday. Family members offer to drive down to Stillwater to pick me up the next day, and I’m pondering what would be least stressful for me. Yes, I’m thinking about how to make things easier on me for a bit of a change.

Late night, Tuesday, June 11, 2013 — I’m slowly walking to and from the bathroom, and around the nurses’ station, and my knee is quite swollen, which is why they keep those lovely white compression stockings on your legs after a surgery like this — to help keep swelling down and to prevent blood clots. It’s hard to bend my knee more than an inch or two. By the time the two nurses I’ve named The Angels of Mercy come on to the late night shift, I’m hurting and can’t get comfortable. In spite of being given two Percocets every four hours I’m beginning to writhe in bed. I’m not saying much, but I feel like moaning or crying, and my eyes fill with tears. I can feel just how much my knee has been through. When my Angels of Mercy (Denise and Angela) ask in their merciful voices how the pain is, I can’t answer and the tears fall. They are instantly at my side, one to give comfort and tell me not to worry, the other to deftly inject some Dilaudid into my IV, and in minutes there’s relief. But in my mind I’m saying, “Dilaudid? Isn’t that super super strong? Wow. I can’t believe I need Dilaudid.” The writhing stops for a while, but by 4:00 a.m. I need another injection and discouragement sets in. How will I go home in a few hours or to a hotel room so that I can stay one more day to get a ride with Danny and Su? (Most of you reading this know my husband Michael has Parkinson’s and can no longer drive. He stayed at home while I went to the hospital 3 hours’ south of us. And since I was with dear friends, I saw no need to ask any of my children to come down with me to sit by my bedside and fetch me water. They could be so much more helpful at home where Michael and our Fosters needed them.)

Early morning, Wednesday, June 12, 2013 — Dr. Palmer comes in to see how I’m doing and in typical understated surgeon fashion says, “I hear you had a little pain last night.” Oh yes, yes I did Dr. Palmer. He decides I should stay one more night and I’m grateful for that decision in many ways. I want the pain to be under control before I go home, I’d like to ride home with Danny and Su, and I think the extra day of physical therapy would do me well. I thank the Lord for the fact that I’m not going to a hotel or asking a family member to drive down to get me. I wonder if my body kicked in and arranged for the extra stay somehow by letting more pain break through. Breakfast is white Farina, which I don’t eat, a piece of white toast with margarine, which I reluctantly eat, orange juice, tea and a soft boiled egg. I pass on the egg. Today I have one more injection of the Dilaudid and then won’t need it anymore.

Afternoon, Wednesday, June 12, 2013 — The Percocet every four hours takes the edge off the pain, but I’m surprised that it doesn’t take it away completely. I guess that was an unreasonable expectation. Physical Therapy is torture but I work hard with grimaces and gasps. To tighten my quadriceps muscle as much as possible and do leg lifts at the same time makes it feel like the entire knee capsule has hot nails poking into it. Range of motion is a big deal to Physical Therapists helping knee surgery patients, and I learn today how impossible it is to bend my leg back toward my butt. It’s shocking how little it moves, and how much it hurts when it does move one inch. Su is doing fantastic, and comes to visit me in my room, using her walker like a pro. We marvel about how we’re actually doing this together. The meds make us drowsy enough so that scintillating conversation isn’t an option, and soon Su returns to her room so we can both rest some more. I’m mostly using a cane now. Su’s adult step-daughter Jessica buys some Reese’s Miniatures and puts them on my pillow while I’m at therapy. She knows they’re my favorite candy, but I wonder if I should leave them be for awhile since sugar doesn’t register in my mind as I’m trying to think of all the things that aid a body in healing. 🙂 (I did bring them home and think how generous and thoughtful Jessica was for this, each time I treated myself to one or two from my nightstand drawer. Ha.)

Evening, Wednesday, June 12, 2013 — Su and I know that we’re going home tomorrow and we both keep saying, “Can you believe we actually did this? Can you believe that horrible pain is gone?” We both have more physical therapy and I’m wondering if my leg will ever bend back normally again. From what I’ve read, there is a lot of hard work ahead. I talk to Michael on the phone and realize that he can’t make himself  understood on the phone anymore at all. I talk to my daughters and am grateful that things at home have gone well. I know I’m feeling better because I ask about Edith and Mildred the Schnauzers and look forward to seeing them soon.

Morning, Thursday, June 13, 2013 — Rice Krispies and milk for breakfast – I eat two spoonsful. Tea, a slice of orange, and whole wheat toast with butter, after I asked if they had the latter two. I have one more physical therapy appointment and should be released late morning. Every single nurse who cared for me was loving and tender and wonderful and knowledgeable. I wish I could remember all their names and feel sad that the drugs make things a bit fuzzy. But I haven’t forgotten Cheryl, a fantastic nurse who felt like a friend right away. She wheels me to the pharmacy to buy my prescriptions, she picks out my cane to take home, she helps me get settled in the car, which takes some time since my right leg won’t bend much, and she is the last one from Lakeview Hospital that pours out their mercy and love on me. I am overwhelmed by it. I think a patient expects good care, but I’m not sure that many patients expect love and gentleness and nurturing encouragement.

Afternoon, Thursday, June 13, 2013 — The drive home is pretty good, considering two out of the four of us are bandaged, post surgical and need to ice and elevate our legs. We stop at a rest stop on I-35 to use the bathroom and I chuckle to myself as I walk slowly with my cane, knowing that I must look truly old now. As we do all the gymnastics to get back in the car, I press the front seat bar and the seat slides back and bumps Su’s knee and she cries out in pain. I feel horrible. Please Lord, don’t let it cause her pain for long. We play a game on the way home, naming bands we can think of, old retro candy bars, and something else I can’t remember. Ha. When I arrive home I am thrilled that I can go up the stairs from the garage to the kitchen, and the dogs greet me with sweet little yips and whines. They smell my bandaged knee. Michael is relieved I’m home, and it’s wonderful to be here and think, “Lord, you got me through! You have provided for us in every way!” I spend most of the evening with my leg elevated on pillows and with ice packs applied. They drilled into our heads that we are to ice 20 minutes out of every hour. That’s a lot of lying down. But I want a good result so I do it, day after day.

Early morning, Friday, June 14, 2013 — Home. My soft flannel nightgown is so much better than a backless hospital gown. And even though it’s June, it’s chilly here and we have the furnace on. I am trying to walk the fine line between being up and active and doing my satan-inspired exercises twice a day, and resting and icing for hours on end. I have a black Velcro contraption that nicely holds two flattish ice packs, and is wound around my knee and fastened with Velcro strips. I am on my back a lot, my wrapped right leg on pillows.

I’ve been craving Golden Delicious apples and a little peanut butter to dip them in — you can see the bowl at my foot. 🙂

If you have made it this far in my little journal, you should win a prize. I’ll have to think about what kind of prize to award for your perseverance.

I’ll add more soon — it gets a whole lot more exciting, I promise you.

And the people said Thank you Jesus!

I’m thanking Him too….

“The highest aim of simplicity isn’t frugality, it’s loving my God and my neighbor.”

–Shaun Groves

*           *           *           *           *           *

I’m so thankful my knee replacement surgery is behind me! And I thank all of you who prayed for me. There were times (especially on Wednesday) when I was quietly writhing in more pain than I’d anticipated, even though I’d had plenty of pain meds, when suddenly a wave of joy swept over me and I knew I was being lifted up to the Lord.

I hope to share more when I can, but I’ve been up a while now and must go back to bed. Ice is your friend, rest is your friend, pain meds to help you rest are your friend, are the wise words I keep hearing from those who’ve walked the New Knee Road before me, and I’m listening.

Here’s a photo I took with my iPhone a few hours after surgery:

The nurse was checking my incision and making sure the hemovac drain inserted at the right side of my knee was indeed draining, and she was getting ready to put on the ultra-suprema-comfy compression tights they make you wear to prevent blood clots.

And a day later when the swelling was enough to make me ask myself, “Hey, what in the world is that enormous purple thing that seems to connect your thigh and your calf, girl?” the hemovac was still intact. (I actually didn’t take a picture when it was purple — I was probably too preoccupied with writhing at the time.)

My sweet granddaughter Mrs. Nisky has spent two nights with us now that I’m home, getting me water, putting my warm ice packs back in the freezer and bringing me fresh cold ice packs, drawing pictures, playing gin rummy with me, cuddling close as I read this wonderful book out loud, setting and clearing the table, and spreading lots of cheer around.

Here’s what my nightstand looks like — the flowers Sara picked from our garden add a lovely soft touch to the cane/pain meds/bandage look I’ve got going these days. I’m more grateful than I can say that dentures, purple hair dye, and nose hair clippers are not part of this picture.

I’m still pretty swollen and the deep and richly colored bruising is starting to spread to the hinterlands of hip and ankle. Apparently it will be months before the swelling is down. But that horrible grinding pain that sent me to the surgeon to begin with is completely gone. It’s a wow and wow situation. Wow, there’s a lot of swelling and pressure. And wow, that cruel bone-on-bone torture is gone. There’s probably some whoa and some woe and some whew and some wah in there too, but I don’t want to confuse anyone. If I titled this blog post Wow and Whoa and Whew and Woe and Wah and Wow, it might be just too much.

I will share more when I can. Thank you for caring and praying….

If I had my druthers, Michael and I might consider retiring away from this beautiful place we live, to another beautiful place with milder winters, like Asheville, North Carolina…

…and we might end our days in the woods of the Smoky Mountains, in a simple place by a river, like this….

….you know what those chairs mean, don’t you? They mean that we would be expecting you to come and visit us! And if I had my druthers, we might even buy our non-hybridized whole grain from this place just down river from us…

…and I might just feel domestic enough to bake round loaves of fragrant bread, and simmer some hearty soup over our open hearth, like this…

…but even with a brand new knee I’m not certain I would climb this nearby…

…and on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, we might tote our Bibles and our hungry souls and sit expectantly in old wooden pews here…

…and then we’d come home and sit a spell on the porch while looking out over this beauty and numbering our blessings into the thousands…

…and after many years of mountain living passed, we would patiently wait together for the call that would take us to the heavenly city we’ve dreamed about for years…

…but that’s only if I had my druthers…

I will be leaving in two days for southern Minnesota where I’ll be having my Minimally Invasive Total Knee Arthroplasty. The hospital called yesterday to inform me that my surgery will be at 8:30 a.m. on Monday, and I should arrive in Admitting at 6:45. I’ll be busy here today and tomorrow getting everything in place for all the people I’m leaving behind, doing laundry, watching little Louisa, and packing.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted some random house photos. I love it when other bloggers do that. Granted, those other bloggers have home decor blogs and that is definitely not my forte (what is my forte I wonder?), but I thought I’d give it a go anyway.

Some of the many pillows in our living room:

The people who lived in this house before us chose a lot of unique lighting fixtures. This is in our living room:

This is a dresser in our bedroom, and the picture was from a cruise Michael and I took to Canada and New England. Also on that cruise, and giving a small group of us a fantastic private concert each night were Barry McGuire, Dallas Holm, Nancy Honeytree, Paul Clark, Annie Herring, and Don and Wendy Francisco. Some of you may remember these folks from the early days of contemporary Christian music.

An office with red and cream toile wallpaper with aqua velvet curtains? Yes please.

One of three pendant light fixtures that hang over the counter in the kitchen. I think they look like ice cubes:

Our main floor bathroom which is shared by our Fosters:

Another unique ceiling light fixture:

I love this tray in the living room — it looks German or Swiss to me. This is the diffuser, and the smell is my favorite:

These are photographs of my mother when she was four years old, in 1926. You can click to enlarge any of these pictures if you like.

Our master bathroom:

Cherry kitchen cabinets:

I love my jaunty little cardinal on the mantel.

Living room console table:

Our only piece of “art,” done by Cheng-Khee Chee, and I love it because it’s of St. Paul’s Cathedral in St. Paul, MN, which is one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve seen.

Can you see the name in the letters below? Some people can see it right away, but others need a few minutes to study it first.

We’ve had many purple finches visit our suction cup feeder lately:

Eleven year old Edith, our loving and long-suffering Schnauzer.

I will post unpleasant photos of my knee when I return from my surgery.

I would be most grateful for your prayers!

We have been in our new house near the lake now for one year. We moved in on May 31, 2012, slept on an inflatable mattress among the boxes and bags of clothes, and froze that first night. When we got up the morning of June 1st I realized that I could have turned the furnace on, but apparently in all the jumble of moving that simple act didn’t occur to me.

The move was hard in many ways. It represented the changes that have come to our lives these past few years. But I love it here. The only thing that would make it better would be to tear down all the houses across the street from us so we could have an unobstructed view of Lake Superior, but I don’t think I’ll pursue that option.

Our bedroom is a haven. Our bathtub is unbelievable. Our kitchen is efficient. Our living room is bright and welcoming. Our basement is not basementy. Our laundry room is one foot from our bedroom. Our office has the toile wallpaper I love. And our dining room has a bit of a view of the largest (by surface area) freshwater lake in the world:

You can click to enlarge these if you like.

Over the weekend, Sara planted some full-sun-exposure flowers in the boxes on our front deck railing, and the bees have already found them. Yesterday I sat on the deck for a long while, knitting a winter scarf (ha!), watching the bees dance from bloom to bloom, and listening to the summer sound of lawn mowers in our neighborhood. If you look closely you might be able to see a little Schnauzer.

If we lived in England, we would properly name our house like they name their houses there. I love that. In America we don’t christen our homes and land like they do in the UK, but if we did, I would put up a sign so people could see that we have lived for one year at Gilead. Do you know the old hymn? Click here if you’d like to hear.

There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin-sick soul

Sometimes I feel discouraged
And think my work’s in vain
But then the Holy Spirit
Revives my soul again

Don’t ever feel discouraged
For Jesus is your friend
And if you lack of knowledge
He’ll ne’er refuse to lend

If you cannot preach like Peter
If you cannot pray like Paul
You can tell the love of Jesus
And say, “He died for all.”

My English friend Ember helped me pick the name Gilead, and when I again ponder the lyrics of this hymn, I can’t think of a better choice. It’s appropriate for so many reasons. 🙂

How thankful I am that we have a home! I realize there are beloved servants of Christ all over the world who call shacks, prison cells, and sidewalks their home. I can’t even find words to speak about that. I don’t understand. But I can give thanks for what God has given me, and I do that this morning with all my heart.

And I thank you Lord, that you have given your Son for all of us who need a balm in Gilead….

Thank you so much for stopping by this little corner of the web, friends. I hope your week is blessed!

As I shared a couple of days ago, I’ve never been a fan of green, grassy-tasting juices, even though I love vegetables and all manner of green salads. A huge pile of romaine and field greens and butter lettuce with chopped asparagus and broccoli florets and sprouts and raw sunnies and red cabbage? Yes, please. But a glass with the juice from any of those things? Uhhh, I think I have to go clean my toilets.

But I’m trying. I’m trying because Michael loves green juices and I know they’re a wonderful way to flood our bodies with vitamins, minerals and enzymes. So my goal has been to try to make one good-sized green juice for us per day. Yesterday that didn’t happen and Michael reminded me of that last night. So today I’ll be making us a juice that is so delicious it’s my favorite so far. I got the recipe from my niece Savannah, who got the recipe off of this website.

All items are organic.

2 large carrots (I hate carrot juice but in this I can’t taste it)
2 large handfuls of Kale leaves (or Swiss chard, which is a bit milder)
1 red apple
1 Granny Smith apple
1 orange (the peel zested off, but white pith remaining)
1 lime (the peel zested off, but white pith remaining)

To me, this is more of a morning juice because of the fruit in it. I made the recipe above for Michael, and when I made my own I only put in one apple, and I enjoyed it just as much.

Here’s a picture of this juice:

Today we have a carpenter friend coming over to do some work for us. Michael has requested a handrail in our shower, and a short one in our entry, where three steps lead to this hallway where a bathroom, the office and all the bedrooms are.

Things seem like they’re changing quickly, and “one day at a time” has taken on new meaning for me.

Also, I have decided I need a mentor and I’ve actually been praying that the Lord would bring one to me. I may be too old in some people’s minds to have a mentor, but I am missing the presence of an older, wiser woman in my life, so I’m asking.

This week I will spend some time with my dear friend Carey before she heads off to a large island in the South Pacific for a month. I also get to meet with my SAGgy girlfriends for our monthly dinner. In a day or two I’m going to try a new recipe for veggie and quinoa pilaf. I have a lovely appointment for a preoperative physical exam with my new doctor. I will be caring for and smooching my eighth grandchild Louisa. And I have several dates with a few piles of paperwork.

What will you be doing for the next couple of days?

“The only way we can be impatient with human frailty is by remaining stubbornly blind to our own.”

J.J. Seid

*       *       *       *       *       *

 “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

Jesus
(Matthew 7:3-5)

*         *         *         *         *         *         *

When I woke up this morning around 4:50, the sun was already beginning to come up over Lake Superior. The weather forecast says the rain is gone for a while and sunny days are ahead. Literally, at least. Figuratively? I’m not sure about that one.

The birds start their singing right at sunrise, and several times this month I’ve heard a cardinal in the distance, but haven’t seen him yet. We have a couple of feeders on our front deck, and one with suction cups stuck to our front window, so several times during the day we can watch birds feed there just two feet from us.

The chickadees are the frequent flyers, closely followed by many variations of sparrows. We had a blue jay at our pole feeder yesterday. We love how polite the chickadees are. While other birds just fly right to the suction cup feeder and cause the bird already there to quickly fly off, the chickadees perch on the deck railing and watch, only taking their turn when their friend has gotten his seed and flown out. They seem to have it timed perfectly; just as the chickadee in the feeder finds his seed and secures it in his tiny bill, he flies out and the next one on the railing flutters in that very same second. Maybe there’s a tiny manual out there called The Chickadee Book of Etiquette. 🙂

We’ve also had many purple finches. I’m not sure why they’re named purple finches since they seem reddish to me, but we love to see them. They look like common sparrows with a blush of red painted transparently over their top brown feathers. Do you have purple finches in your area?

In a little over two weeks I’ll be having my knee replacement surgery, and I’m doing my quadriceps-strengthening exercises and making plans and lists for those who’ll be here caring for Michael and our Fosters while I’m away for three days and two nights. Dear friends have offered to bring some meals and I could cry from gratitude and relief.

Our original plan was for Michael to come down to Stillwater, MN with my friend Su’s husband Danny, and they would stay in a hotel together and come and visit Su and me in the hospital during the day. Now we’ve changed our plans and Michael will be staying home. He is becoming more confused with each passing day, and even though there’s no definitive test for this, his neurologist has implied that he is also developing Parkinson’s Dementia. Just this morning when I gave him a tall glass of ice water with fresh lemon juice squeezed into it, rather than take his morning meds with it like he usually does, he began to drop his pills into the glass first. I was able to reach out and intercept them, but when I told Michael to put them in his mouth instead of in his water, he said, “I sometimes do it like this too.” But he doesn’t.

I don’t know if any of you have ever seen a Parkinson’s patient festinate (another word for it is fenestrate) but it’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever witnessed. My husband used to be the epitome of the Minnesota outdoor man. He loved to hunt and fish, he was strong and active and had energy that never flagged. He was up and down ladders a hundred times a week, walking with perfect balance on scaffolding and roofs many stories high. He grew a beard for half the year and with his plaid flannel shirts, jeans and work boots, I often thought he looked like Grizzly Adams. Now Michael’s brain lies to him and tells him a normal doorway is too narrow for him to pass through, and he does the awful rapid shuffling called festinating as he tries to get into a room. Click here if you want to see what what a mild form of it looks like.

I read recently that relatives of Alzheimer’s patients say their loved one no longer recognizes them, but relatives of Parkinson’s patients say they no longer recognize their loved one. It’s horribly true. Michael’s personality seems to be fading away, and who I see every day is not a lot like the man I married in 1981 after only having met him one time. 

His face is often blank, his head sometimes bobs grotesquely, his torso dips and sways from the side effects of the only medicine there is for him, and his speech is almost impossible to understand. I know my Michael is in there somewhere, that his spirit is alive and thriving, but unfortunately I don’t have spiritual eyes to see that yet. I believe it in faith. He and I used to read the Bible together almost every morning, and pray together for our children and friends. When I used to share a burden with him, he would take my hand and pray with such strong and quiet faith that I almost always felt better, and certainly didn’t feel alone. But it’s not like that anymore. I haven’t felt like reading with him much. And I have asked him to pray with me, but he forgets that we’ve prayed before an hour has passed, so I don’t ask so much anymore. And I often feel alone.

Doctors say that PD patients are impaired in the executive functioning part of their brain, the part that helps them look at a suitcase that needs to be carried and carry it, or a drawer that needs closing and close it, or feel a stomach that’s growling and feed it. It’s the part of the brain that helps us make decisions and gives a person the initiative to do what comes next. Michael began to lose that a long time ago. So now when I have to tell him to put on his jacket or eat an apple or drink some water or brush his teeth or wipe his nose, it makes me feel like his mother. And even though I’m working hard on not complaining and regularly counting my blessings (of which there are so many), I hate having to tell him when and how to do basic things. And I can tell he doesn’t like it either.

So when I woke up this morning I thought to myself, is this living? And the answer I gave myself was, yes it is. It may not be what you would choose, but you are alive and Michael is alive and God has given you this day to love, to be loved, and to experience His sufficiency and grace. 

So today I resolve to watch the birds that come to our feeder and rejoice in how beautiful and miraculous they are. I will hug and kiss my husband and treat him like he’s still in there, no matter how much this ugly disease has masked and stolen from him. I will make us each a pineapple and almond milk smoothie and close my eyes while I’m tasting it, and thank God for food and taste buds and pleasure. I will turn on some music that will help me lift my heart up to the Lord, and I will sing along with it and dance a little bad-knee-jig for a minute or two.

And if we are headed into the desert, I will remember that Jesus has been in the desert before us, and that with Him we have nothing to fear.

We’ve had some very heavy rain lately, with flash flood warnings. That seems like nothing compared to the devastation we watched on the news this morning in Oklahoma. As I sat there in my plaid flannel nightgown with a hot cup of tea in warmth and safety, I prayed for the people there, especially those who have lost children. What can people like Michael and me do for those who are suffering? At this stage of our lives, all I know to do is pray and send money. And to not take for granted this day we’re given, because there are no guarantees that we won’t be the ones needing help and comfort another time.

On to more trivial things — Michael and I bought a juicer recently. We’ve watched several mind-blowing movies that have opened the door of my previously tightly closed mind just a crack, and I’m incorporating a few new things into our days that I would never have considered before.

Part of my motivation stems from some obvious signs in past years that my immune system is lagging. I’ve written before about how I was diagnosed with an immune system disease in 2002 called Sarcoidosis, which thankfully went into remission (or disappeared completely!) after about a year. But now when I can’t get over a cold without it turning into a weeks-long infection that needs major pharmaceutical intervention? Not good.

When my children were very young I was a whole foods kind of mom, and they didn’t eat sugar and most refined foods. We ate lots of fruits and vegetables and whole grains. When we moved to Minnesota I began to let things slide because the food culture here was so different from Southern California. And I guess it has been downhill ever since. We still eat fruits, vegetables, raw nuts and seeds, love salads and eat whole grains, but I have become lax in many ways regarding meal prep.

After watching this, this, this, and (be forewarned there’s a bit of language in this,), I’m trying to make one green juice a day for Michael and me. I love green vegetables and crave salads, but drinking anything green and grassy smelling has always made me gag. To successfully down a green drink would usually take me thirty minutes and lots of begging God. Michael used to drink Barley Green every day and loved it — he’s not put off by the agricultural fragrance or flavor of green drinks at all.

But I got me some people I need to take care of. And I got me-my-own-self I need to take care of. So I squinched my eyes shut and clicked on the “buy” button on amazon, and our juicer arrived a couple of days later.

Here’s what we’ve been having, and because of the fruit in it, I can actually drink it down within three minutes (Michael guzzles his) and still be standing upright and smiling afterward:

Organic Green Juice

4-6 large kale or Swiss chard leaves (I cannot believe I am actually typing those words)
1 peeled cucumber
4 stalks celery
1 cup strawberries
1 Granny Smith apple
1 piece ginger root
1 handful fresh parsley

I have added the juice of a lemon at times and have also used organic romaine, which is a bit milder than the kale. Today I’m actually soaking some chia seeds to use in tomorrow’s juice.

I also still eat pizza, drink milk very occasionally, and had a Culver’s Butterburger last week, so the changes I’m making are very slow changes. But it can’t hurt us to add an enzyme-rich, vitamin and mineral-rich green drink to our diets, and we’ll see how it makes us feel and whether or not we experience any really noticeable health differences.

I’ve also read many times from different sources that our American diets cause our bodies to be very acidic, and eating foods that are alkalizing is a good thing. So Michael and I have been drinking melon smoothies, and we LOVE them. Three ingredient yumminess!

Honeydew Smoothie

1.  I cut up a ripe honeydew melon into ice-cube sized chunks and freeze them.

2.  When it’s time for a smoothie I let the honeydew chunks thaw for about 15-20 minutes, just until they’re not rock hard anymore.

3.  In a blender or Nutribullet (we have both and the latter works better for this) I pour unsweetened almond milk and a little honey, and blend it for a few seconds.

4. Then the honeydew chunks can be thrown in and blended until completely smooth, and more almond milk can be added until the mixture is pourable.

I can’t tell you how rich and refreshing this tastes to us.

So enough about juices and smoothies, now I want to tell you something cute and funny. We had our 10 year-old grandson Mr. McBoy over for two nights recently, and we had such a good time with him. I taught him how to play Gin Rummy, he beat me at Farkle, we read books together, listened to G.T. and the Halo Express CDs while the rain beat against the windows, and just enjoyed each other’s company. On Saturday evening I asked Mr. McBoy if he would massage my feet for me (he is known for his strong hands and cheerful willingness to give hand and foot rubs), and he readily agreed. I thought five minutes would be generous of him, but he rubbed my hands and forearms, ankles and neck, and then offered to rub my back if I would lay down on the floor while Grandpa watched Gunsmoke nearby. I did. After a few minutes of my teetering on the edge of a blissful coma, Mr. McBoy said, “Grandma, I don’t mean to be gross but if you want, I can massage lower on your back, near your gelatinous magnus.”

Oh yes. How apt.

You know what he was trying to say, don’t you? I chuckled and said, “You mean my gluteus maximus?” and he giggled when he realized his mispronunciation and said, “Oh yeah, I meant that.”

I declined his offer, but I think I’ll always remember what he said. It will be something we’ll get a kick over many years from now. I told Mr. McBoy that gelatinous magnus is probably a much more accurate term for my backside than the correct anatomical term. 🙂

I love a good malapropism (the act of using an incorrect word in place of one that is similar in pronunciation), don’t you?

I know a little girl who used to say “I don’t want to take anything for granite.” I have a friend who heard someone else comment in a theater while watching Schindler’s List: “Oh how sad, look at all those emancipated people!” I have someone in my own home who says, “It’s cold outside and I need to get all bumbled up!”

How about you? Can you think of a malapropism you’ve heard or one you’ve said yourself? If yes, why don’t you sit right down on your gelatinous magnus and leave a comment telling us what it is?

I can’t wait to read all the perpendiculars! 😉