Free Rides on Gyroscope

This will just be a short post for now. I know that Janet Jabbers has not been getting my top priority these past few days.

It was fun watching the royal wedding. We both were somewhat spellbound watching the day proceed even though we watched it in the comfort of our bed and couch. The trip to London would have been a little much for us anyway, and I don’t think that the Duke and Duchess missed our presence.

I’ve continued to work on my triathlon. I have completed 17.32 miles on the bike, which is 15%. According to the schedule and my Type AAAA personality, I should be 17% on Monday. I’ve done 26 laps in the swimming pool, which is also 15% and 25% on walking/running. I’m getting there. Since I’m such a big shot, I even ordered an Apple Shuffle that will hopefully block out some of the gym noises. I got free engraving so Triathlete is front and center. Hopefully it will help with my inspiration. The bad news is that I ordered it online since getting to the mall is not optimal to other traffic in the area. It’s in shipping somewhere now. What a hoot that it started in Shanghai and then went to Anchorage, AK. It has a better leisure life than me!

Bob and I both need a little inspiration today. If the paparazzi broke in and snapped a picture of us now, it would probably be titled “Plopped on Couch with Energy of a Dead Fish.” Bob is getting frustrated with the cast as week two from the surgery begins. Unfortunately, the schedule is to have a cast through week seven. My head has that vertigo where my body is going nuts inside my head. I am having trouble standing right now. Typing this post is more of an effort than I thought it would be. Thinking has never been one of my positive characteristics. I’m having difficulty locating my brain as it flies around my body, but I will hopefully be able to catch it soon.

This type of vertigo is hard for the self-worth department. The inability to stand up is indescribable especially when it is not because of a back fusion or Achilles surgery. (I’ve had this whole standing up issue for a while I guess!) I don’t know where to put my foot. That sounds really stupid, but it’s pretty accurate. My body thinks that a 40^o  angle for my little tootsies would work well. However, gravity has my tush on the floor when I listen to my brain. I spent a few hours in bed clutching the covers over my head so I wouldn’t get any dysfunctional visual clues. I prayed for the bed to slow down my spinning body and get off this darn gyroscope. I’m not there yet, but I bet tomorrow will be a better day.

So much for a shorter post. I do know how to jabber.

Today’s Benefit of Living with a Body with Chronic Pain

• You get free rides on a gyroscope in your head.

Einstein Should Be the Triathlete

Being the culinary goddess that I am, I decided that pizza would be an excellent option for this evening. I worked hard (considering my profile in the mirror) at my triathlete workouts and deserved to be less than energetic in my own kitchen tonight. My principles have greatly shifted over the years. I now consider that I partially prepare the meal if I place the order either online or by phone. I can add bonus points by being the one to go pick it up. Tonight, I even used a coupon from this afternoon’s meal. I’m quite the chef.

I asked Einstein if he wanted to go for a car ride and knew what his reaction would be. To say that he was excited is a huge understatement. His disheveled hair practically hit the ceiling as he bounced throughout our family room. His wagging tail whipped the air as his breathing rate became faster than a Nascar on race day.

Earlier that day, I had finally rearranged the shelving configuration on our glass kitchen display. While moving items from space to space to space to space, (I am more than slightly anal in this regard.) I turned over our Bible verse for the week. Proverbs 15:30 stared from its perch, “A cheerful look brings joy to the heart, and good news gives health to the bones.”

While struggling to keep moving during my workout at the local Y, I was about ready to call it quits for the day. My vertigo had me fighting to stay within the track, let alone my lane. While waiting for their own physical testing, some Air Force servicemen didn’t know if they should come to my aid as they viewed my obvious swerving. I left the gym in embarrassment and waddled to the pool, which probably was not my smartest move for day. I started my efforts at laps. I soon accepted I needed to stop ignoring my pain and admit I had enough fun for the day. As I finished the last lap, a group of very loud, very happy kids came rushing into the pool area. They were doing that walk that is almost a run while keeping their arms stiff at their sides as their bare feet hurried to the side. I had to smile.

God had bopped me on the head as he showed me the life application for my Proverb verse. He brought me men ready to serve their country on my behalf. Tight smiles crossed these charming male faces as I thanked them for their service. (Bigger smiles were plastered on the faces of the elite few who got to hear about my hero son-in-law.) God brought me a fabulous yoga instructor who unobtrusively provides modifications for me. I love her serene voice providing directions during soothing spa music. The woman behind the front desk stopped me to ask how I always have a cheery disposition and a quiet smile on my face. (She obviously doesn’t know me very well yet.)  God worked hard today to make sure I would know that I could get more joy in my heart as I fight for health in my bones (and muscles and nerves and brain and joints and discs and, well you get the main idea.) Thanks God. Life is good.

Today's Benefit of Having a Life that has Chronic Pain: 

• You still get to laugh when excited youngsters rush to get their turn to jump in the same pool that  has laps lengthening as you struggle to swim just one more length.

The Triathlete and the Angel

Tonight will be quite a night in many Chicagoland homes. Sports rule as hockey, basketball and baseball teams all do their best to provide excitement for their loyal fans. Most everyone had counted the Blackhawks out when they started the playoffs with three losses in a row but are now thrilled with excitement that the Hawks have won the last three games. It all comes down to the victor tonight to see who will progress to the next level of the hockey playoffs.

Emotions can change very quickly while faith ebbs and flows. Sometimes it feels mighty lonely. Chicago sports and chronic pain relief keep going because we are both praying and hoping for the flow days, or probably more accurately the flow hours. Family members of those with chronic pain get so thrilled about new techniques or unknown doctors, but patients frequently aren’t as willing to maintain that enthusiasm. It’s demoralizing to have dreams plummet time and time again. Then new days come, and hope sneaks in the soul. You try again. You pray that you will be blessed with those few hours without pain.

I’m trying to combine the two: sports and pain rehab. I’m a triathlete now and love this surprising idea. You should see or hear people’s responses to my new title. I have a goal to achieve that I have confidence can be achieved. Instead of racing to complete the tasks in a few short hours, I have a full six weeks. It’s called Lazyman Triathlon. I’ve divided my days into shorter goals. The 112 miles on a bike is not as bad if you ride a recumbent bike four days a week for six weeks. That’s 24O times in the saddle and only 4.6 miles each time. I can achieve that shorter distance. I also divided the 2.4 miles swim (173 laps) and 26.2 miles run or walk and spread it over six weeks. Once I’ve reached that triathlete title, I’m seeing a better chance for more flow time.

Today I went to a cardio class that was a wee bit too hard (or actually way too hard). Mind you, this was a “Senior Sneaker” class that was past my capabilities. That failure was great for the self-esteem. The Weeble walk was back. After class, the paths on the track were way too narrow for me to stay in just one. Everyone was passing by me: the elderly couple sneaking side glances, an autistic young adult wanting to meet new friends, two friends walking and talking. The young man employed with gym duty for the morning slyly did a fast dash for his boss, who luckily had met me a few days prior and could explain the vertigo vibe. Even with the hard class, roving walk and fearful looks by strangers, the good news is that I kept biking. I struggled to keep walking, but I maintained a smile on my face and a positive attitude. I don’t just have chronic pain; I’m a triathlete in training. Life is good.

(I just got a call from my Lancaster neighbor. She always was my angel at Mayo appearing at just the right time. Love you neighbor!)

Today’s Benefits of Living with Chronic Pain:

• Life’s angels appear at just the right time. Life’s goals can be divided down into smaller and smaller sections until you can attain them.

I'm in a Triathlon

I’m tired, but it’s a good tired. I went to the Y today and took a yoga class. My grace and skill probably was noted on the national news. I am officially a member of the Silver Sneakers. There were fourteen of us clutching our chairs as we bent, reached, stretched and flexed. It was a good class. I was able to hold my own since the average age was probably a couple of decades older then me.

After that, I did my exercises, rode the recumbent bike and even walked a half-mile on the track. You could hear me singing, “I am woman. I am strong.” Well, I might as well have been singing it out because I got the unusual looks of quite a few Y members. The large exercise room filled with the noises of bouncing basketball games, spinning bikes and loud music convinces my vertigo to introduce itself to the many people around me. I tried to show off my newish white tennees, but they really weren’t interested as they did a fast peek and rushed by me.

I was so proud of myself for finding my toes that I signed up to complete a triathlon. After all, I look pretty cute in my exercise clothes. I know the verbiage and can blend in with the best of them. I even tossed a basketball over to a couple of hunky athletes. I’m sure that I will be able to get some assistance if needed. I don’t plan on completing any speed records. I just want to finish. I need to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles and finally run/walk for another 26.2 miles. We even get a t-shirt for completion after paying a $12 registration fee.

You should have seen Bob’s face when I came home and told him my big news. It matched the tone and silence when I gave the news to my daughter. I guess I had forgotten to include a portion of the description. This race is labeled the 8^th Annual Lazyman Triathlon. We need to complete the above tasks, but we have a full six weeks to finish them. It starts tomorrow, and I need to be finished by June 6. I’m not sure if I can make it and am curious about the difficulty of swimming in one lane at the pool. That has nothing to do with my vertigo; I just have major problems swimming straight when I paddle more than six feet.

Wish me luck. Stephanie did mention that this was the first time that she could hear excitement in my voice in a long time. I’m determined to do my best as I finish this whole thing on my own. My daughter won’t be able to complete the swimming, and my son-in-law won’t be able to transfer his distances spinning to my feeble attempts. I’m sure that I will have many more stares and questions, but it will feel so good to actually complete a goal.

One of the difficulties with chronic pain is that agony creeps up your body and strangles your brain. It’s easier to give it all up and go to bed. I will need to put new challenges on my out-of-shape body. (That’s a silly expression. I have a shape – it’s round.) I will fall in front of strangers. That’s a fact. It will take long hours to finish this triathlon, but I need to try. I’ll do my very best to transform my form (yep, that round one) and reduce a little of this blubber. Wish me luck. I will keep you posted.

Today's Benefit of Having Chronic Pain as Part of My Life:

• I get to introduce myself to new folks as they stop to peer at my body stretched out on the floor.

No Chocolate Bunnies

I love Easter. I’m a huge fan of every morsel of this scrumptious holiday. This fanaticism goes beyond the chocolate bunnies and baked apple dessert. I adore watching colorfully dressed girls with new white shoes rush to find their hidden treasures. Colored eggs quietly sit amidst seasonal decorations while awaiting the chubby fingers of a youngster on a hunt. The trumpeting daffodils and brightly budding tulips announce that spring might finally be approaching.

Church services worldwide proclaim that He is risen indeed. Strangers to formal worship centers are drawn to attend this annual celebration thus creating bulges in church seams. Spring flowers decorate altars, and choirs sing of the resurrection. Thousands upon thousands of voices sing out “Jesus Christ is risen today.” How many times did the word “alleluia” echo in heaven today? I can close my eyes and picture my Mom singing out this hymn startled at the brass trumpets heralding the day. This last memory was far different for me today.

This morning, a brass orchestra combined with our choir to let the heavens hear the excitement in our voices. That same orchestra unfortunately also summoned one of the worst migraines I have ever experienced. Even as I pressed my temples with vice-like pressure, the pounding exploding in my skull hid the beauty of the words. I wanted to join in, but my body once again proved the victor over my desires. I attempted the meditation and relaxation stressed during Mayo’s program. Forget this blasphemy. I gave up and went for the Mountain Dew. I even put on a new top purchased the day prior in an attempt at retail therapy. Farmville brought distraction, but I can harvest with the best of them even with a migraine pounding away. Just a short time ago, out came a Tramadol, an opioid analgesic I have worked hard to avoid. Am I a failure? It’s crushing to picture a “Kodak Moment” that can’t be replicated. Easter is my season. I can’t be kidnapped from the celebration. “Bong! Bong! Bang!” My head disagrees. I didn’t get ham. There was no chocolate bunny. My baked apples are still in the refrigerator.

Duh! I formally announce to the world that my ego has clouded my brain of the truth of this day. Jesus died and rose for me! He did it without any of my help. He also did it for every Ralph, Bernice and Albert. We all win! It wasn’t JUST for me.

I’m about to head upstairs with a new memory of Easter. The migraine is still here in all of it’s living color, but one day that pain will be erased. Jesus knows about my chronic pain, and He knows about yours. Jesus Christ is risen today. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Happy Easter.

Benefit of Having Chronic Pain Part of Your Life:

• You get new understandings of long held values. These alterations are built on the new images forced on you from your chronic pain. Thanks be to God.

A Hat that Hurts

Holy Week is drawing to a close. My devotions this Lenten season have surely been lacking some of the fervor of previous years. I was unable to partake in our church’s Wednesday night activities, including their dessert competition. It wasn’t until the last two days that I actually put up some Easter decorations in the house. Although many people wonder why I bother with eggs and bunnies on our mantle, I needed to see them as a key part of my home. Easter is definitely one of my favorite holidays. It sits up there right with Christmas and lacks much of the hustle and bustle filling up those December days. The Holden evening service, the midweek Lent service at my home church, ends the day with a sense of peace lacking just four months earlier. Plus, Christmas wouldn’t be worth its weight in candy canes if Easter weren’t also part of the Christian year. It doesn’t matter to the same significance that Jesus was born if he also didn’t later die for our sins.

I’m proud of the Biblical knowledge already possessed by my three-year-old grandson. He knows people made Jesus wear a hat that hurt and a lady loved him so much that she put perfume on his head and dried his feet with her hair. He also knows Jesus loves him. That’s the simple faith that Jesus wanted us all to know.

That same love is what makes my pain so much easier to handle. When I pray, I know that Jesus knew what pain was all about. He knew what it was like to feel friendless and alone. When I sit with a hurting back and a head throbbing away, I remember that Jesus felt pain when he wore that hat that hurt.

I love Easter baskets with that neon grass that can be found throughout the house for the next eight months. I love those plastic eggs that we still find hidden away in corners from days of Stephanie searching away. I adore the taste of chocolate or pop when it was given up for the Lenten season. Easter Sunday brings the joys of all those self-imposed sacrifices. I love baskets overflowing with presents even when I realize my narcissistic tendencies and me-me-me attitude don’t fit the true meaning of Easter. I stuff many a gift in baskets and love to see what Bob or Stephanie have supplied for me. Easter is not the time for one fancy gift, but the time and effort spent on picking out special things for loved ones’ baskets, letting the gifts flow over just like the love from our Lord.

This year, no Honey Baked Ham will be served at our house. It’s weird to order a small ham anyhow since just Bob and I (and Einstein) will be gobbling up the meal. I was not about to stand in a line that snaked around the building’s corner while a cold rain tried to dampen shoppers’ spirits. I’ll be brave and hit our local grocery store tomorrow instead.

I have always loved Easter and the way my momma would jump as she was startled by the sound of trumpets at our church service. I love to ponder how many people are joining me singing, “Jesus Christ is risen today.” How many little girls have white shoes to dash around in search of spring eggs? There can’t be a better feeling.

This year, the resurrection means even more to me. I can face my pain and not feel like it lessens my worth. Those words are brought to you after three and a half weeks at Mayo. I can loudly pray, asking God how much longer for the spasms. I can then say, “Thanks God” for being right there with me all the way.”

Happy Easter everyone! May all your eggs have hidden treasures of the unconditional love of family, friends and God.

Advantage of Having Chronic Pain:

• You better understand that you are not alone since Jesus is sitting right beside you wearing a hat that hurts.

I'm a Grandma

Yesterday was a wonderful day! I became a grandma. That comment may surprise many of you who know me very well. I have been bragging about that role for over three years. I dearly love my two little guys. That’s why I am so proud that I made grandma status yesterday.

I know that my writings can frequently cause wonder and confusion in many of the readers. I really need to carefully explain my excitement so that you too may have these feeling of success.

It all started about a week ago. I asked my eldest grandson what he wanted in his Easter basket from Nanny Easter Bunny. He quickly responded, “Ooo ocks!” After having him repeat this request multiple times with no increase of understanding in my rattled brain, I discovered that his mom also had limited knowledge. We guessed at “Blue socks.” My grandson grew more and more agitated that two of his favorite females couldn’t even understand him. When you think about needing multiple repetitions of simple requests without success from your listeners, it’s easy to pinpoint the reason for his frustration. That’s a large portion of my frustration with chronic pain; I don’t understand what is happening and neither do those people who surround me.

We finally figured out that his request was not for “blue socks” but instead “fruit snacks”. As I wanted to dig deeper and change the focus from our lack of good listening skills, I asked if he wanted anything else. He came up with juice boxes, apple juice is his consistent preference, and a helicopter with buttons.

I mailed off items for his family’s Easer baskets. When my daughter was younger, I tended to buy one or two items too many. She and my hubby got stuffed baskets with additional good stuff on the ground surrounding the basket. There ended up being a six-foot diameter of presents. Buying presents for an unseen basket presented even more additional visual challenges. To get to the heart of the matter, I’ll just say that my Easter box to the family was actually two boxes. I probably had enough for three boxes, but I will put on hold some of the items that didn’t fit. I can always send a Happy May Day gift.

The reason that I felt so good was that I came to the conclusion that I became a grandma. I have always worried that I don’t fill the shoes and rocking chair of my own mom when it came to being a good grandmother. I don’t match up to my personal definition of what makes a grandma good. I cringe that my chronic pain plu the mighty three will deprive my grandsons and me of a moving grandma/grandson relationship. During my visit at PRC, one of my top goals to achieve was to be a good grandma. I then needed to decide what fits that criteria.

When my daughter was little, she described a good parent as one who knew her favorite color, best friend’s name and the color of her toothbrush. That definition became firmly implanted in my brain.

I sent my little guys two boxes because I needed room for juice boxes, fruit snacks and a helicopter with buttons. How silly to ship juice boxes! It would be much easier if I just sent my daughter money, and she would run to the store to buy his big request. That would demolish my “score” to rank up points to gain grandmahood.

I’m praying that Teddy will see that I try my best to give him the things for which he asks. I could get him some clothes – boring – or coloring books and cars – I already did that in these two boxes.  The inclusion of the juice boxes, fruit snacks and heicopter with buttons should nopefully start to get ingrained that I DO listen tohim on the phone. It’s part of that whole unconditional love that was part of the sermon tonight.

Jesus added his last commandment during the time that we honor Holy Week. We need to love one another as God loves us. I want to be that kind of grandma.

I want to be the kind of grandma that can always be called for love and support. I want to buy him his first tank of gas (We have started saving now.), first college text, first drink at 21, and many firsts in-between. I want to be the grandma who listens to him.

There are lots of things that you long for in the same way.  Do you long for a spouse who understands you? Do you plead for a reprieve from chronic pain? Do you need a job with a boss who respects you? Each of these supplications need some quiet time.  

I’m a grandma. What a beautiful feeling with roots deep in your heart. May you reach your goal as a father, a boss, a wanna–be singer or writer .Someday! Maybe one day I will even reach the goal of author.

Use the gifts that God gave you. Keep up the great work..

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three

• You still get to be a good grandma even with the Mighty Three.

Important Government Study Results

I was all set to head up to bed after a soul searching evening watching two back-to-back nights of Dancing with the Stars, when I realized that I had been remiss in writing my blog for today. Einstein has given up snuggling on the couch and deserted me to finish this post solo.

The day has been a typical mid April day. I headed out to a store to play Nanny Easter Bunny in weather that should be illegal at this time of year. The temperature was 36^o, which always sets the stage for springtime shopping. By the time I got home, it was 33^o. That is just plain ridiculous.

Last night, I hinted, rather came out and wrote, that I would fill you in about our late night dog walk on Monday evening. Einstein and I were only about two houses down. He was sniffing and smelling, not pleased with the cold temperatures and the fact that he was getting his four little paws wet. I was just being my usual happy camper self when I glanced down to keep the wind off my face. That’s when I spotted a skunk about 12 inches from my right foot. Einstein spotted my new friend about five seconds later. The little striped fellow was confused on what to do. He was between this narcissistic white fluff ball and this round lady who looked like she was a wanna-be for Dancing with the Stars. The Monkee Weeble walk was definitely in place. Luckily the skunk hightailed it out of there about the time Einstein decided he needed to complete his canine duties and chase him. All I can say is thank God for strong leashes. The fast movement was enough to set my vertigo in motion, and I started to wonder again about those TV cameras from the past. I could picture myself being dragged through the wet grass, over the mud and smack into a chainlink fence while my loving pet went on a nature walk. Luckily, we made it home with no tomato juice needed.

On to other things: Bob and I head to the latest orthopedic surgeon tomorrow to have a post-op check-up. The cold, damp weather is not helping his tootsies revive. Getting him out to the car in a wheelchair in our usual rainy forecast should be delightful. I also have the star-like beauty, peek back to my Dancing with the Stars reference in the prior paragraph if needed, of possessing a large plantar wart on the bottom of my foot which will be burned off tomorrow during the same visit. Get those cameras ready. We should make quite a sight coming out of the office.

We’re doing our usual, trying to hang in there while maintaining a little of the positive frame of mind so strongly emphasized at Mayo. Bob and I were thrilled to hear the results of one of the latest government studies stating that people in chronic pain don’t like to feel pain. We could have given that same verdict in far less time and a lot less money. It’s hard to imagine that the government took so long coming to a consensus about the national budget just a few weeks ago when you see the recipients of our tax dollars.

I’m getting some wonderful emails from some of the folks that I was blessed to meet up in Rochester. We each are doing the best we can in many different situations. I’m grateful of so many things at the end of this day.

1. Skunks must not see well in the dark.
2. The government cares about those of us in chronic pai
3.   I have warm jammies and a comfy bed upstairs waiting for me.
4. Today I could temporarily forget about my twinges and the economy while I played Nanny Easter Bunny on Skype.
5. I have the best friends and family in the world that support me by taking time in their busy schedules to read my blogs.

Happy dreams everyone.

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• Being off work on disability allows you to be home and catch the noontime news when the latest government research results on chronic pain are made public!

Vertigo 101

It’s like an out of body experience. I don’t necessarily see a white light in the distance or hear pretty harp music, but that’s still the closest thing I can use to describe what it sometimes feels like having vertigo.

Yep, that vertigo stuff is still around. I lived in a Rochester hotel room for close to a month and had two million and three tests. (Just ask my insurance company if you need confirmation.) However, vertigo still has residence somewhere in my brain. That’s another yes; I have a brain. That was formally determined up north of the border about a month ago.

Vertigo attacks us diehards in multiple ways. I used to think that vertigo meant that people got dizzy when they walked around. I’m almost a little embarrassed to say that now. There is so much more to this silly condition.

Sometimes vertigo is just what the previous paragraph describes. I get dizzy when I walk around. Occasionally it’s just like a little buzz after an evening partying. (That’s a memory from the distant past!) You can tell this vertigo has taken hold when I wobble back and forth when trying to walk down the sidewalk. I look kind of cute if I do say so myself when I move with this dance-like precision minus a disco ball. I can get where I am going, but my path is far from straight. Watch out Dancing with the Stars!

Another vertigo is a deeper dizzy in my brain. That’s when I not only can’t walk straight down the sidewalk, but I don’t even stay on the sidewalk. The other day, the wind blew my slight frame right off the sidewalk into a tree. It was a little breezy outside. However Tree 53, Janet 0. When I feel like this, I won’t drive. The dizziness is just too strong for me to be able to safely go down the street. I’m a little nuts, but I would never endanger someone else. Sometimes, the world turns clockwise and sometimes it goes in the other direction. The weird thing is that sometimes, it is not the world going by me; I’m the one spinning around my surroundings. I often have nausea here, but can’t always locate the proper receptacle if you know what I mean.

Believe it or not, a third vertigo will wrack my body at times and those of others with severe vertigo. I used to always end up in the emergency room when this one came to visit, but now I feel like I know more about vertigo than many of the local ER staff. I don’t bother even trying the sidewalk when I am like this. My proprioception skills just don’t exist here. (How about that for a five-dollar word!) I have no idea where is up and where is down. Many people feel that I ought to use my cane more frequently with vertigo. If I did when I felt like this, I could really do damage to someone’s legs, arms, head or other bodily part. When this vertigo is digging in my head, I don’t know where to put my cane. I need assistance standing and walking because I can’t figure out where my foot should go. It’s quite baffling to those around me and probably a little comical if I weren’t the main character. Fear grips me here, even when I am safe in my comfy bed. My mattress feels like it is flying away, but it also throws in some neat flips and turns. I’m confident the bed frame will flip me off at a moments notice. You can check out the scratches and bruises on Bob’s arms. Now, I have never been a roller-coaster fan, but with this vertigo I question the sanity of people who like to be flipped all over the place.

There is at least one additional vertigo that I experience more often than I would prefer. This difficulty is how I began this post. It almost feels like an out of body experience. I have often tried to communicate how it feels when this vertigo plagues me. I’m sure that my body is flipping around, but I am almost not really in my body. I  kind of sense something is very wrong. Sometimes I am up close to my body, and the next instant I get thrown a good distance away. (I should probably talk to Stephen King or one of those other psycho writers.) I’m convinced my body is turning at all different motions, but I also realize that the room is going kind of crazy too. I don’t get as nauseous here, but I feel a strong apprehension that thinly coats my body and thoughts in perspiration, change that to sweat! Perspiration seems too flowery.

Vertigo is quite an interesting condition really. On its own, there is no pain or big trauma. You don’t need a blood transfusion (I guess depending on the severity of my falls), psychological examination or body casting. It lets you view the world from a new perspective. Many people feel that I would feel ashamed, depressed or aghast at these symptoms but I guess I’m getting used to them. It’s amusing for me to see which people come to help while others high-tail it out of there. I simply explain it’s my silly old vertigo. Onlookers usually know at least a distant cousin of their neighbor’s maternal grandmother who once had vertigo, or they look at me as if I will soon be joining the Ringling Brothers.

I’m not writing this for sympathy or hushed tones of ooohs and ahhhhs. Many friends and acquaintances have asked questions now that they are getting accustomed to my strange gait, so I thought I should take some time out for a brief description of one of the conditions that is a part of me, but no longer defines me. I have blond hair (with the help of a box), two grandsons with fabulous parents, a cute hubby and vertigo. That’s my life right now.

I didn’t mean to ramble so long, but I guess most of you are used to my multi-paragraph posts. You can always skim through a great deal of my verbiage anyway.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s blog. You have to hear how Einstein and I had a close encounter with a skunk that decided to come introduce himself on our late night walk. There’s always excitement around this place.

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• You become the resident expert on vertigo as the world goes round and round and back again. (That could almost be a song!) How about dizzy? I’m so dizzy my head is spinning. I’ve got a million of them.

Jodi, June, Jeannie, Janet and Lily?

I’m currently reading a novel by one of my very favorite authors, Jodi Picoult. Her stories always leave questions about your own beliefs and values as you try to distinguish any inherent differences among the villain, hero and yourself. These simple fictional tales slip pondering points into your thoughts where they lay resting for many a day. Her stories are good, with excellent plot and fine character development (Now do I sound more like a reading teacher?), but I value most the way her words tumble down the pages, interwoven to provide secret paths leading to the love of words. She chooses her words with the skill of a surgeon to carve images into our imaginations rather than simply writing a description of the event. I wonder how she would use words to describe The Mighty Three. I would love to have a wisp of her talent to weave my words into pictures.

As I daily, or almost daily, write about my thoughts, worries, fears and loves, I wonder how my words are being unfolded by each of you. This blog has almost hit 1,500 hits. That’s a lot of word unfolding. Some readers like to be kept abreast of the happenings in our home. They giggle or gasp about each of my escapades as I try to pretend that life here is a mirror of past TV glories. Some days it seems like we’re the Jefferson’s, trying to move on up or rather keep on moving. Bob and I could be George and Gracie; I seem to ramble on with the same lack of forethought. We’re not Edith and Archie! He can be that stubborn but I’m not as submissive. (Plus my dear Chris is not the radical Meathead by any means.) We don’t have the musical talent of the harmonious Partridges and my body would never be seen like Jeannie’s. (Good luck trying to wipe that visual image out of your head!) I get in some of the predicaments of Lucy, but can’t figure out how to use Sabrina’s nose. I used to say we had the perfect Leave it to Beaver house, but you never saw June and Ward having trouble climbing the stairs. Plus, our attire surely doesn’t match their carefully ironed dresses and shirts with ties.

Readers over 40 can probably relate to many of those past TV sitcoms. I left off the Cartwright’s because we can’t even control Einstein, let alone having a ranch. I’m hoping that some analogies brought a smile. Erase the image of me as Jeannie and replace it with Lily. (How many of you now know to whom I am referring? I figure you usually don’t know what I am talking about anyway; now you won’t know whom I am talking about!)

We made it to church for Palm Sunday, a sincere need for both of us. The car swerved into a local haunt for doughnuts. We farmed, paid some bills, emailed friends and watched Nascar and the Cubbies. Bob is snoozing and I sit here rambling away. Life today was simple as a spring Sunday should be. Bob and I both search for a normalcy that is often missing here in our home. So I read my books, play on the computer and watch TV. The distraction helps. Your friendship means even more. Thanks for reading.

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• My mind can enjoy the beauty of words even though it is finding it pleasing while sitting on the floor in the closet. The lighting in there is pretty good and comes in handy when the vertigo decides my body needs to sit down for a while. Good thing I walk around with a book or magazine.

Romantic Measuring Cups

A good friend picked me up today to attend a wedding shower. How fun to see a young couple in love. Who else can get that excited about receiving a measuring cup or the third griddle the same day? Coincidentally it was my friend’s 40^th wedding anniversary. (She got married at the age of eight.) I wonder how the expectations of the two couples are differing at this moment. How do they even match those of Bob and I?

I look at how Bob and I have changed over the years, even the last five years. We have both been caregiver and care receiver. We have cleaned parts of each other that do not exactly make others swoon with romantic tingles. We have fed, brushed, scrubbed and bandaged each other. We have laughed, yelled, cried and grumbled together and to others. Most importantly, we have worshipped and prayed together. I think the older that we get, the more we pray. Through it all, we know that we love one another.

I’m not sure that I would squeal in excitement over a new measuring cup.  I’m not sure they would blog if one is able to make it down the hall without falling. Yet we are in love with our partners for better or worse. The wedding present that we will give them will be more than something off their bridal registry. (I hate some of those registries. The items are never in aisle 38B. Searching to find a match of the USB code on the bottom shelf has never been easy let alone when I’m rolling down the aisle.) We will urge, beg, plead and bribe the wedding couple to spend just as much time as they did planning their special day as they do “working” on their marriage. It will not be all rose petals, Champagne and measuring cups. Some of their days will soar into heavenly bliss and others will be crash and burn.  (I’m glad they don’t know my blog site. I better purchase another measuring cup.)

They and we need to fall to our knees in prayer. We both need to thank God in prayer each and every day for blessing us with the loves of our lives. We both need to plead for the continuation of that love. We both need to maintain the faith that through God, our marriages will stay strong.

The Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• Your life slows down enough to let you spend time on that marriage and know how blessed you are to have your fabulous spouse.

A Weeble with a Smile

I failed to write yesterday because the life of someone not employed outside of the home has such limited opportunity to take time to inform her friends of her well-being. Well maybe as a person on full-time disability, my physical condition prevented me from completing a highly technological task at the same level of frequency of others. Or, I could just be truthful and say I just didn’t get to it! Procrastination doesn’t usually lead to high productivity.

I do have somewhat of an excuse however. Yesterday, Bob had his orthopedic operation on his right foot. That statement actually is true. We were supposed to report to the hospital at 11:15 sharp. The operating room called just before 9:00 to request that we come to the hospital sooner. We hustled to get there. The original procedure was scheduled to begin at 1:15. Since we arrived early at their request, it instead started at 1:35. (I can sense many of you shaking your heads in understanding.)

The good news is that the surgeon was pleased with the result. Bob is now in a splint until Wednesday at which time he will get a cast. (I’m hoping he gets a Cubbie blue one similar to the one that graced my foot just a couple of years ago.) He’ll get new casts about every two weeks so the medical staff has job security and the doctor’s Lexus can have another payment ahead of time.

I expected Bob to feel quite uncomfortable today, but he’s doing quite well. Pain pills can do remarkable things. The hard part is reminding him that he is not to have ANY, can I repeat, ANY weight bearing on that foot. That includes trips to the restroom, journeys to the refrigerator when I run for milk, and other assorted excuses. I plan on running out and buying a case of duct tape if such behavior continues. We have an industrial strength power staple gun if all else fails.

God played a cute little joke on me today. I first complained of the cold wind and dark skies that started our day. Where was spring after all? That darn groundhog promised an early spring. He might need the PRC if this continues. I want spring now! Not two hours later, a torrential downpour convinced Einstein that this outdoor bathroom stuff is over-rated. As I was about to open my mouth in fury to complain, (I do complain pretty well; it is one of my few strength areas.) I remembered a major characteristic of spring. You all know the childhood rhyme, April showers, May flowers. I have such a limited scope on what I view as appropriate weather. I would like to have all four seasons with the outside temperature varying from 61^o to 81^o. I’m being very lenient here. I really would prefer 71^o to 75^o but don’t want to appear too rigid.

That’s what’s been keeping me occupied. If you need a good laugh you can picture Bob with his walker, attempting to maneuver without any weight on his right foot with me traipsing along behind bouncing off the walls. I’m being a Weeble with a smile. Life is good.

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• You never run out of things to talk about with God.

Who Needs a Schedule Anyway?

I had the best-laid plans for today. I followed the PRC scheduling plans with military precision. Doctor appointment, yoga at the Y, haircut and church all had designated lines. I even got up just prior to my alarm, got dressed and headed off to my morning doctor appointment. From there on, my plan was demolished. So much for precision!

My pain doctor, and his two lovely assistants, greeted me with smiles, anxious to meet the new and improved Janet. I soon would be the lucky recipient of two facet injections that would hopefully help relieve some of my hip pain. I’ve tried multiple shots varying in location and medication but felt confident in the procedure.  With the last “pinch and burn”, I declared that the doctor was “no longer my friend”. I even questioned whether he had a disagreement with his wife that morning or a long hidden resentment toward some wicked elementary teacher. Although this brought a slight smothered smile, the doc kept going. He was done with the right side and preceded to its partner. Luckily these “bunny bites” didn’t cross my pain threshold. In other words, the doctor left with all of his appendages.

Trouble began when I went to stand up. My vertigo remained hidden, probably afraid of the doctor with the long needles. I even rolled off my stomach with style. With its rounded shape, that had never presented problems prior to the vertigo. All went well until I stood up. My left leg followed that military schedule, but my right chose to mutiny. I took a step only to replicate my weeble stature. Luckily my little “Vanna White” grabbed me quickly to avoid my body meeting the linoleum. After two more failed attempts, Vanna 2 brought in a wheelchair. My leg just wouldn’t hold up any weight. I was told this very occasionally happens to people when a leg overreacts to the numbing medication. With these odds, toss me on a plane to Vegas.

After reading all of the magazines in sight while drinking 47 gallons of water to flush out the medication, I reluctantly faced the fact that driving home was not an option. Bob and his brother became my knights in shining honor to provide chauffeur service. Once home, I made it to the bedroom with the help of a walker and stair chair and managed to plop with limited grace onto my bed. It was close to 1:00, so I realized my finely tuned schedule had bit the dust. There I remained until later that evening. Hobbling is somewhat easier, but my right leg is self-imposing a strong limitation on weight bearing.

Bob has his foot surgery tomorrow afternoon, so my leg better be off strike by then. We make quite a pair hobbling around the house. Yet the remembrances of far less fortunate people I had met in Rochester suddenly makes me feel like I can run a marathon. (It would probably take me 7 ½ weeks to get to the finish line, but I would get there.) Please keep my hubby in your prayers tomorrow. A sense of God’s peace always comes in handy.

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• You get extra time in the doctor’s office to jabber with wonderful staff, and they don’t even charge you more. Or at least, I don’t think they do. I haven’t seen the bill yet!

Mike's Funny Silver Sneakers

A wonderful friend called my home today and dared to tease me about recent blogs lacking in previous comedic value. However a few weeks ago, my daughter gave me a challenge. My strong competitive nature had me at “challenge”. She urged me to complete a post without any self-deprecating humor. So, in tribute to these two special folks, I’ll start this post with, “Did you hear the one about the traveling salesman at Wrigley Field?” Well, I haven’t heard it either, but you have to admit it could have a great punch line.

I tried to meld my life at PRC and home sweet home today. I was a good girl and got out of bed at the designated time, waddled to the bathroom, and rushed into my day. Well, not exactly rushed, but I stumbled around and couldn’t even blame it on my vertigo. I did my morning stretching. These exercises don’t exactly raise my blood pressure over the dangerous exertion point, but it’s morning and I sure don’t love or even like anything before noon. After dressing, I even completed my Tai Chi exercises. Some of the pictures of me in these cute poses would be a riot on YouTube. That statement is not deprecating; it’s fact. I had my usual cereal and then Bob and I headed to the local Y.

Stephanie had done earlier legwork and felt this locale could do wonders for my top layer of flab. I’m all set to take the Silver Sneakers classes. Since I don’t have silver shoes, I wonder if I can use some retail therapy to rectify that omission. I saw some of my fellow silver sneakers, and I think I’ll be on the thin side. They are also probably double my age, so it should result in some interesting posts. The receptionist took us for a tour of the facility while listing many of the wonderful classes available for us. At the mention of spinning, I bragged that my wonderful son-in-law enjoys these work-outs at his home Y. She suggested that I could take the class with him if he visited. Holding back a choke, I pictured Chris and I in this bicycling boot camp. They would be all finished with the workout by the time I hauled my slight frame upon this scary cycle. Hey, at least my silver shoes would match the large front tire.

Stay tuned tomorrow for my yoga debut. Maybe I could get a silver latex outfit to wear to class.  It would blend with my hair!

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• People tune in a blog to read about a ditzy “blond” with silver shoes and silver yoga pants stuck getting about a silver cycle. Come on! That has to be funny Mike!

Pastel Tulips and a Colorful Rocket

Another day passes and some of the previous stresses return. Luckily, I have wonderful people who keep an eye or two on me. There are many ways you can help people in chronic pain. The people in my life have discovered many of them.

My very dearest friends at church sent me beautiful tulips bursting in color. I received them just after I decided the heck with it, I was going to go upstairs and take a well-deserved nap. I could ease into my PRC tools. Life is different here at home. Then Einstein let me know me know in his quiet little manner that a stranger, bigger than a squirrel or passing car, was approaching our front door.

These bright blooms, brought by the local FedEx man, erased my fatigue and let me use my tools to help my pain.

After that, the computer was my friend. During the last 24 hours, I’ve been trying to gather the emails of my peers up north. My inbox was overflowing with notes including additional emails and phone numbers. A growing number of these contacts were unknown to me but were previous graduates of PRC.  I got fabulous notes of thanks then along came requests. One person was having trouble keeping her shoulders down. She described herself as a Pringle chip on steroids. Another peer was having difficult with a loved one. Another wanted prayers as she returned to work. Communication began and connections strengthened. I looked online and was able to locate perfect prayers for these PRC comrades. My list of emails is already growing and becoming much more than originally expected. God is altering my plans. He loves to do that.

I wrote my monthly newsletter article, one of the passions to which I still cling. I love to write, which is probably not a huge surprise. Plus in my newsletter article, I got to describe my fabulous grandsons. Is there anything better in life?

My daily snail mail included a pastel rocket ready to burst into the sky. It was colored with the artistic skill possessed by my eldest grandson. What a way to brighten my day.

My hubby made dinner and started the laundry. We’re unfortunately too busy with bills and preparing for his upcoming surgery. I’m not sure why the hospital requires so many details when most surgical procedures are currently done through a drive-up window. I also started to make multiple doctor appointments. The patterns of my life a mere month ago are chasing me down. But I just need to look up and see a vase of pastel tulips and a rocket colored just for me. Despite my pain, I have some worth. My writings and PRC compilation are helping me get through these upcoming days. Thanks for reading this and helping me out. My shoulders are down too.

Today’s Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• They provide a tacky excuse for getting compliments; recognition and flowers from loved ones. Wow!

Oreo Milkshakes and Smart Cookies

I wrote my rough draft of Janet Jabbers and then stopped to lead my exciting life outside of Minnesota. I had lots to get accomplished and had promised myself that I would semi-maintain my tough regimen. You’ll be proud to know that in the last 24 hours I have emptied two suitcases. I’ve decided to replicate the need for relaxation more than any work goals. When I reread my blog prior to putting it online, I found that I must have been more tired than I realized. So, here I go again.

Family Days ended with both Bob and I on the pooped side. Lots of talk time was built into these days so the significant others could get an idea of the philosophy of PRC. Many loved ones had bundled off patients with big yellow Post Its attached to foreheads requesting an immediate removal of all of our pain. Let me tell you, it took PRC 3.1 seconds to rip off those notes and force them in the shredder. The job of this Minnesota spa was not to rinse off all the pain. The pain is still there and for me, it is even worse. Instead the focus was to have me manage the pain, instead of the pain managing me. My daughter Stephanie is one smart cookie. She’s better than Oreo’s and homemade chocolate chip ones warm from the oven any ol’ day. She sent me a message on Facebook that summed it all up. PRC didn’t change the pain, but it changed me. That even beats all those Girl Scout cookies too!

When Bob arrived, Mayo still gripped the mystical forces for instant healing and superhuman medical knowledge. Although my respect for this institution remains high, I learned that stark reality must be faced. I’m still a Weeble, but now I can be pretty proud of that fact. My tinnitus has the rhythm of white Lutherans and church organs are still loud. However, those conditions can knock me off of my feet, but they can’t keep me down. I’m not just the Mighty Three. I’m a whole lot more.

It was good to be back in my home church. The greetings and hugs did wonders for my self-esteem. I didn’t even bribe people because our checkbook is dry from that retail therapy. Bob and I even went for lunch with good friends, an outing that has been missing from our calendars for too long. My long-term friend Linda even forced me to gulp an Oreo milkshake.  Well she ordered a high-caloric frozen treat with me and matched me guzzle to guzzle. After all, I didn’t want her to be the only one daintily sipping a welcome home glass of water. Boring!

Thanks again to all of the good wishes and prayers sent my way. I learned a lot. I now have good friends all over the nation due to the popularity of Mayo. When our checkbook becomes solvent I just may go visit Pennsylvania, Florida and Oklahoma and then swing by Wyoming and Wisconsin. Hawaii and Vancouver will have to wait an additional three months.

There’s lots more news to tell you, but I’m afraid to hope for any more grammatically correct sentences or words longer than one syllable. So for now, happy dreams!

Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• The current winds just knocked me back on the sidewalk when I was out with Einstein. Vertigo is not that bad of a thing!

One More Day

One more day left at the PRC douses me with a menagerie of feelings and emotions. The bittersweet goodbyes to people who understand me at a different level than even my best friends and family members will be hard to say. Many other inspiring peers have already left the program only to leave gaping holes in my heart and mind. (Yes, I do have a mind.) Yet, new people continue to join the team and soon develop ties with direct attachments to all hearts present. It’s my turn tomorrow to enter the category of graduates. There’s much I will miss:

·     Starting the day with a joke that refocuses our thoughts and depicts the power of laughter

·      Gone will be daily hugs from some very special people in my life.

·      The simple nods or smiles that show encouragement at a brand new level

·      Cheers and applause for friends making a difficult goal

·      Notes of well wishes for a future with pain, but with the ability to use means other than medicine to      cope with our struggles (This is a BIGGIE!)

·      Yummy treats on the counter from graduates (When supplied at a hospital setting, they match all of our health requirements.)

·      My new church home providing comforting memories of the strength of the Holy Spirit that encircles our planet.

·      Laughs over lunch about a silly weeble who provides great hugs but sure walks pretty crooked down the hospital hallway (Who does that sound like?)

Bob has already arrived to take part in the drive back to Chicagoland. Today, he got to experience Family Days and learn of a new strict belief to rid our bodies of the dangerous chemicals found in many medications, even over-the-counter remedies. He has personally witnessed a program like a medical and mental boot camp where we grunt from exercise (I got the grunting down pat.) and get stuck in yoga poses that tease out of shape bodies. (Yep, that’s me too.) He saw me give tearful hugs to shapes of all sizes: from the very tall requiring me to stand on tiptoe to the height challenged needing a much lower approach.

Tomorrow will provide that fork in the road where I must decide on which path to take. I’m glad I will have all of you on that passage with me.

Advantage of The Mighty Three:

• You have new friends and past comrades ready to guide you down the right path. They have even put bumper pads all along that road just for The Mighty Three.

I'm a Weeble

I’ve had a busy but beautiful two days. I have finally recognized the sun shining in the blue sky and been able to take advantage of the warm(er) days enjoyed in the arrival of spring. Let’s see if I can describe a relatively abridged version of these past days. Many events are deserving of a post all by themselves, but I will moosh them into one for the time being. (Moosh is such a fun and descriptive word.)

Last night I was able to attend a fantastic presentation about the impact of brain injuries and the family. It’s so hard to see Bob struggle and not know how to help him. I guess males aren’t the only gender begging to do something to fix all the world’s problems. We both have a long way to go, but we know we are not alone in that journey. Although we would rather be traveling to some warm climate with a beach, we first need to come to grips with our situation.

Some of that knowledge will have to wait for a few weeks. While my hubby was pining away over my extended absence, he decided to emulate my athletic falls. Oops. He really fell several months ago, but the thought of him pining away boosted my ego. Anyway, we went to hospitals at home and in Connecticut with the same diagnosis of a bad sprain. WRONG! He actually split the bone between his big toe and the next toe. In other words, the growing break between the piggies that went to the market and those that stayed home. Surgery will be next week. Even so, he is up here now with me and will attend two days of family training.

I said good-bye to my Rochester church home that was a spiritual gift to strengthen me during my work at PRC. It continues to amaze me when I wonder how many people are saying the Lord’s Prayer with me sometime that same day. I’m overwhelmed when I stop to consider the number of people who have ever found comfort in these words. Lenten services are always quite moving for me. I can’t imagine having to skip them. As I mentioned in a previous blog, it was comforting to know that Bob, Stephanie’s family and I were all worshiping God together despite the miles. You don’t get the full meaning of Christmas without the harsh reality of Holy Week and the utter joy of Easter. The pastors here did a fabulous job of enveloping me as a family member during this time of reflection and self-examination. I will never be able to repay Bethel. They reminded me of the Holy Spirit at some periods that were my lowest. They pushed me to realize that my church family is far beyond my friends at Prince of Peace. I am a member of every Christian church and that’s one heck of a big family. We are all united as one (even though we don’t always act out that genealogy).

In two days, I “graduate” from the PRC. I will miss the people and the camaraderie that made this trip successful. The horror of watching so many go through withdrawal as they ripped the use of any pain medication from their quaking bodies will never be forgotten. Even me as a blubberer has never cried so many times in such a condensed period. The tears come naturally to me as a maternal trait, so I wonder how many boxes of tissues I emptied. (I also wonder how many hundreds of dollars will be charged to my account for those boxes. The sad thing is that they were not even very soft on my poor little nose.) Yet I laughed each day too. I know God wants us to also dance and sing, but those aren’t options for me. My vertigo would enjoy my former disco moves and my home congregation required me to sign an affidavit requiring no singing “wherever two or three are gathered”. A peer is creating some Yahoo account where we can supposedly write to each other with some confidentiality. I hope my laptop is waterproof then.

That’s a whole lot in a relatively short amount of space, for me anyway. I still am astonished at the multitude of cards and emails I daily receive about this goofy blog. Maybe my wanna-be author dream will someday be a reality.

Thanks for all you do.

My brother-in-law sent me a gorgeous email ending with this quote:

"Look back & thank God; look forward & trust God; look around & serve God; look within & find God."

I think that says it all.

Advantage of the Mighty Three

• I can always claim my vertigo or now aptly renamed weeble steps are just former disco moves.

Really, Tai Chi and Yoga

I logged into this wonderful blog tonight at janetjabbers.blogspot.com. It’s an unusual effort of a ditzy blonde (really gray) attempting to use humor to describe her unique attempt to conquer pain and find the cure to cancer. When I logged in, I first read the prayer on the right column of the page: it’s a way to delay reading the actual blog.

I know prayers are not the same for everyone. My prayer read, “Lord, help me to spend the time I have in doing the things that matter most to you.” How fitting for my time here at Mayo. We’ve been urged to go past the pain. OK, we all know that pain wracks our bodies on a daily basis. None of us are here complaining about a paper cut, even those they do hurt like a son-of-a gun. Complaining about our aches, discomforts, throbs and owies, don’t improve the situation. We must instead focus on positive self-talk like The Little Engine That Could. Distraction and deep breathing can do wonders when used correctly. This body even does tai chi and yoga daily. (Stop laughing out there!)

Upon arrival, I set two main goals: to help me be the best wife possible for my husband as he struggles with pain and facing the unknown and be a great grandma for my two little grandsons. I must maintain the mantra “Wife, Grandma, Wife, Grandma” throughout even the toughest physical therapy and most intimate group discussions. During biofeedback today, I concentrated on photos memorized in my heart. I saw Bob and I on the beach, Teddy and I building the world’s best train track, and Ollie and I crawling through tunnels. (Well, he crawled and I quickly hobbled to the other end, but he was happy.)

This is my last week to lap in the luxury of my hotel suite in balmy Minnesota. Once home, please help maintain my focus. I can’t dwell on high credit card bills, clothes that somehow shrink just by hanging in the closet, or the cost of gas in Kalamazoo. (I’m not even sure exactly where Kalamazoo is located, but I took an author’s prerogative.)

Thanks God for the topic for today. Thanks family for easily being the things that matter most!

Advantage of the Mighty Three

• You have lots of things for which to work. Maybe paper cuts could count as chronic pain.

Bethel: My New Second Home

Many of my new friends speak of returning “home” at the conclusion of each long day at PRC. Although I am quite cozy in my suite (?), it’s not quite home. Now, the decorations lift my spirits. I sit here and see many photos of my grandsons with their fantastic parents. My self-bought daisies from week one are still hanging in there, urging me on. The basket of flowers from my wonderful hubby proudly sits on the kitchen counter. There are Easter cling-ons attached to my window. (OK, so my dorkiness is showing up.) I can see my kindle with many books yet to experience. There’s a TV (with a missing remote that I still can’t locate due to my eye to detail and organization) that can distract me. The part on messiness is very much like my home in Roselle.

The second home to which I am referring in the title is the comforting church where I have been attending services. All three pastors bring comfort through their sermons and friendly nature. They even know my name. When they included my full name in the morning prayers, I gently cried as I felt the Holy Spirit caress my soul with love. Even here, where most are still strangers, they emit my name in prayer. That’s when I decided that this structure has transformed into my second home.

I loved the children’s sermon. Watching a little girl with a poufy pink dress wider than her tiny frame, a smile came to my weary face. A little boy seated next to me swiftly ran ahead while his pregnant mother followed far behind. Rushing to the altar, kids and more kids came to hear the good news. Although these youngsters gain much from their weekly trips to the front of the church, they teach us so much more with their frank honesty and unblemished view of the world.

Today’s gospel was from the 9^th chapter of John. Since I originally worked with kids with vision disabilities, I always felt especially inspired from these verses. This reading talked about Jesus providing sight. While the kids were rushing up front for the children’s sermon, out waltzed the pastor with dirt. These little youngsters talked about things you do with dirt. They came up with such ideas as drive your truck, make mud pies, and of course, look for worms. We all laughed at the innocence of this simple response. The sermon went on to describe Adam being made from dirt and mud. God created all animals, even worms. The children returned to their seats, clutching a card, to draw a picture of an animal God formed. These pictures would later be returned during offering. One more chance for little legs to hurry back to the alter while they grew in confidence that they were important in God’s house.

While the adult version urged adults to determine the works of God that are revealed inside us, my mind (yes, I do have one) couldn’t forget the little boy’s worm. God has made all the animals, each unique in its own way. That’s how he made humans too. Out of plain old dirt, life appears. You can’t focus on the dirt, be mesmerized with the worm.

I admit when I first crossed the threshold to this beautiful church, I was disappointed with what I then considered an unfriendly congregation. They didn’t come rushing to my narcissistic self. I sat in the Parents’ Room for some quiet to ease my migraine, and parents actually had the gall to enter with children. Even my tears in the chapel were dismissed as people hurried by to sing, to laugh or to hurry home. But a pastor soon came to hug my shoulders, listen to my plight, and say an encouraging word.

So, I returned to this church for the Wednesday Lenten service and was surprised that the pastor actually remembered my name. There we go with my name again. After worship he encouraged me to join in the evening meal. I wanted someone to come take my hand and loudly announce that the fantastic Janet was in the midst. Instead, I solely went up for my chili, only to quickly find the pastor at my side to help me with my dish. He set me at a table where conversation was strained and largely required my instigation.

By the next week, I was starting to get it. I placed my chubby little arm out to introduce myself. I laughed with others while I hung up my coat. I talked with ushers and fell in love with little ones. People didn’t have to come up to me. God granted me a strong voice that surely couldn’t be denied by anyone north of the Mason-Dixon line. By Wednesday, I began to notice familiar faces, and they began to recognize me.

This morning I was all set to slip into one of the handicapped parking space. They were full! At first, I was aghast that a place was not reserved for me. I had to park far down the lot. Then I heard my PT urging me to exercise this weekend. I wanted to lose weight and get some exercise, but I thought I required special parking. God whopped me on the head, and I got the idea.

When we go to a new church, or any new place for that matter, we tend to quickly notice everything that is wrong. That little boy’s worm should have been holding up a big stop sign. Stop and look at the good. There is lots of it. This church has fabulous missions that could inspire congregations nationwide. The youth program is marvelous. The adult programs are wonderful! The choirs are superior.

When I needed to change my seat from the Parents’ Room, I walked through the hallways and focused on the cross. This huge cross has brilliant stained glass reminding us to look beyond this mighty symbol, and enjoy the colors – all of them.

So in my new second home, this wonderful church here in Rochester, I gained self-confidence even on bad days. I could still reach out first and meet new people. I could get some exercise instead of being lazy. I could bring some exciting ideas back to my home church. And by thinking of that worm, I could focus on the many colors after the cross. Then, I could bow my head in prayer and hear MY name offered in prayer. The whole congregation joined in that prayer.

Thanks Bethel. It’s good to be home. See you on Wednesday.

Advantage of the Mighty Three

• You get to visit new churches when you go to special centers and focus on the worms God made.

Anyone Want to Share Oreos and Ice Cream

What a good day! The body begged me to pretend I was working on mattress research and having some devotion time in bed. Saturdays are a day off work and the normal schedule for lots of us. Even those of us at PRC get a reprieve from classes, PT and group discussions. On Friday, we had to fill out a time worksheet to plan our two days off. They tried to make sure that we wouldn’t be wrapped up all comfy in our beds, massaging our stiff muscles and eating chocolate while hiding under the sheets. Although those are three of my favorite things to do, and three of the few things that I still do well, I beat all odds and did what I promised on my time worksheet. I actually got up before noon! In fact, I did my stretching, a long outdoor walk, and a trip to Target to pick up my weekly pictures of the grandkids. All this and I was back to my hotel room by 11:00 AM. Miracles do happen.

I did my stretching. (I hope you were not disturbed by the loud creaking of my bones too early in the morning.) My working was focused on straightening up my one room suite. (I somehow lost my remote for the TV. How is that possible in one compact hotel studio?) I splurged with relaxation through a delightful massage. Ahhhh! Tonight I made five cards and tried to figure out this fantasy baseball stuff. At least I will make everybody else on my league happy as my team plummets to last place.

It was so fun at Target. I got to see beautiful children try to negotiate with parents, and parents attempt to distract their youngsters. One small girl tried her best to con her mom into buying the peanut butter that had Dora the Explorer on the label. A dad preferred one bride Barbie instead of a full dollhouse. Some parents were being silly with their children. A grandmother convinced a mom of the need of some toy while an angelic grandson gazed up in approval. (It was NOT me this time!) Stephanie sent super shots of Ollie and Teddy. I could almost feel the breeze as Teddy zipped by on his bike. I laughed with the giggling Ollie as he experienced Play Doh with glee. I needed to see some healthy kids since we don’t get a chance to see many of them up here. The few that cross, or rather dodge, my path is frequently on their way to oncology. Nothing like putting your priorities in a tailspin.

I’ll give you a hint to my goofy personality. Whenever I feel the pity party starting, I avoid the package of Oreos at the grocery store. I try to close my eyes to the ice cream safely stored behind those glass doors. Instead I rush home and click on YouTube and type in giggling children. How can anyone be sad when babies laugh with such gusto? Even the largest grouch can’t hide a smile when pet puppies give kisses to happy kids.

There it is! You have my secret to success! I want to get an appointment with a big wig up here at Mayo and get these screens installed throughout the halls of all the buildings. We all need more laughter in our lives.

Advantage of the Mighty Three

• You get medical reasons to go for a massage and retail therapy.

A Wonderful Day

What a wonderful day! I sit here (rather sprawl here) in my hotel after a busy yet emotional day. Yet, I made it through it. However, I didn’t do it by myself. Let me share some of the fabulous reasons from fabulous people for the smile on my lips.

1. Upon my mirror above my dresser, I have plastered multiple pictures of some of the men in my lives. (Did you know I was a grandmother?) They are strong, intelligent, active youngsters who just happen to be my grandsons. There are some photos of these two boys playing outside. I see Teddy anxiously eyeing the cookie bowl. (He obviously takes after me.) He later proudly sits on his bike set up on bricks so he can practice his maneuvers in this still chilly weather. Ollie crawls through a fabric tunnel with the biggest smile possible. My son-in-law stands with his fellow servicemen in front of his future submarine. My daughter, a caring mother, snuggles with her eldest child. All four stand embraced ready to face the future together. My daughter weekly sends me via Internet a few shots to enjoy. I stare at the images and smile. I love them so much, and they love me. I have helped raise an intelligent daughter who values God, her family and her country. Is there a better scene for a mother?

2. My husband calls every night. He is with wonderful family and friends during my trip to this frozen tundra. Although he just got the cruddy news that his foot has been broken, he has a fabulous orthopedist. Einstein is getting lots of attention and keeps Bob company. Bob loves me, and I love him. He believes in God, his family (including me) and his country. After all these years, what more could a wife ask for?

3. My bathroom mirror is covered with notes and cards to keep me encouraged. Some are funny, others are religious, and some are simple statements. They all were mailed to help me through these tiring weeks. The senders are all from individuals who appreciate God, family and friends. What more could a friend possibly need?

4. My church is unbelievable. Led by Pastor Hellstedt, this church is truly my family. Members support me through cards, emails and powerful prayers. A multitude of people even regularly read this inconsequential blog. They all welcome God, their church family, and the world into their hearts. Can the Holy Spirit be any stronger?

5. I’m receiving services from one of the most highly respected medical facilities in this country and maybe even the world. I have been blessed to create special new friendships and learn multiple new skills. Through private conversations, I know they all have sincere reverence for God, friends and family. Is there anything else a patient could want?

So you see why I sit, almost dozing, in my one overstuffed chair. I have plans to meet a friend tomorrow to have an hour-long massage. (Close your eyes Bob!) I might also squeeze in a little retail therapy. Plastic is wonderful.

Life is good. Get out and enjoy it.

Advantage of the Mighty Three:

• Lots of people support you. Life is good. What more could a girl ask for?