Saturday, May 07, 2005
Second Star to the Right and Straight on Until Morning
May 7th. Motherhood comes to mind today and I think that in some ways I did a pretty good job with my children.
I caught some clips of thought from a couple of researchers when I was bouncing around channel surfing yesterday. Their research focused on the myths we have about successful parenting and the things we think are the 'right thing to do'. One myth was we need to have books around the house and read to our children every day. What the researchers found was this -- we need to have the books around the house, reading to our children is just frosting on the cake. It seems that the magic factor is that the child sees the parent reading. Role-modeling the behavior. It is just that simple.
Today I rented and downloaded 'Finding Neverland' and realized that I probably gave my kids the gift of suspension of disbelief enough to believe in themselves. To have the confidence to try. To have a belief in a future as a horizon that is far off but attainable, not some scimpy line drawn in the dirt in front of their toes. A horizon so limited their heads are down watching the dust blurring their 'future' line.
Each of my children is a marvel and a wonder to me. I am their cheerleader and admirer. I have hoped as their mother to never limit them with lifescripts of what I thought they should do with their lives, but to open up possibilities and doors to walk through, if their passion drew them.
To aid when I could. To advise when asked. To cheer loudly at their triumphs. For them to know happiness, and contentment, and ultimately, satisfaction in their life's work.
I caught some clips of thought from a couple of researchers when I was bouncing around channel surfing yesterday. Their research focused on the myths we have about successful parenting and the things we think are the 'right thing to do'. One myth was we need to have books around the house and read to our children every day. What the researchers found was this -- we need to have the books around the house, reading to our children is just frosting on the cake. It seems that the magic factor is that the child sees the parent reading. Role-modeling the behavior. It is just that simple.
Today I rented and downloaded 'Finding Neverland' and realized that I probably gave my kids the gift of suspension of disbelief enough to believe in themselves. To have the confidence to try. To have a belief in a future as a horizon that is far off but attainable, not some scimpy line drawn in the dirt in front of their toes. A horizon so limited their heads are down watching the dust blurring their 'future' line.
Each of my children is a marvel and a wonder to me. I am their cheerleader and admirer. I have hoped as their mother to never limit them with lifescripts of what I thought they should do with their lives, but to open up possibilities and doors to walk through, if their passion drew them.
To aid when I could. To advise when asked. To cheer loudly at their triumphs. For them to know happiness, and contentment, and ultimately, satisfaction in their life's work.
Raw carrots, 3 dogs and a sheep hunt
May 7th. How raw carrots got me into the hospital for 3 days.
On Tuesday morning, trying to be a good little cookie, I got a bowl of raw baby carrots and radishes from the refrigerator to accompany my morning on-line gaming. Munching, I played my magical druidess-fury in Everquest 2 for an hour or so. Then I realized that I felt like I had swallowed diamonds and they were cutting me up inside, big time.
I logged off and went to my bedroom to lay down. I slept for an hour or so, and if I did not move, and I lay in just the right position, I did not feel the searing pain in my gut. However, bowels being bowels, they kept signaling that evacuation was imminent. And they lied. Thus, I popped up, struggled to the restroom, laid back down, wiggled to find comfort, napped and the pain went on and on and on. After a couple of hours, nausea set in and it was a good thing I had my plastic basin from my last bout of upchucking in February.
By 6pm, I was worn out and getting so tired I was having trouble popping out of bed for the waddle to the toilet.
I called for help to daughter Janel and son Michael. Michael was in route from work to his home north of me here in Atlanta and he managed a u-turn on I-400 back toward me, and Janel aimed for the hospital to meet us. Poor Michael had to help his naked mother get her clothes and shoes on and waddle out the front door, down the steps and into his car for the jaunt up to Northside Hospital, carrying her plastic basin of 'catch it all' and a towel to sit on, just in case of old lady leakage.
Admittance breezed by, I got up on the gurney, into my backless gown, basin close by, IV hung and punctures accomplished. Quickly I was wheeled off to the X-ray department for a peek inside to confirm I had a food blockage in my small intestine. Nurses and internists intently listening to my non-existent bowel sounds.
My bowels were dead stopped and very tender to the touch. I patiently explained about my survival of 100 doses of radiation therapy in February, a likely major contributor to my malfunction. Additionally, a C-Scan was called for to confirm the X-ray pictures. I almost pleaded for the benedryl to calm my panic attack from the iodine dye burn that C-Scans always give me. So far this year -- 4 C-Scans, 65+ X-rays of chest and abdomen and 100 doses of focused radiation. I glow in the dark now and have exceeded my lifetime safe exposure rate for high energy particles.
Blessed relief in the form of some morphine-like stuff added to my IV and I swam upstream to a nice place to listen in a stupor to Tuesday night's episode of Blind Justice and Hank the seeing-eye dog. Headache was pretty intense, so I took more pain-killer when it was offered.
A private, sterile hospital room was found for me, I was wheeled up and I passed out in the elevator going to it. It seems, according to Janel, when asked where I was and I told her I was with 3 dogs on a sheep hunt. But I have no idea how they got me onto my hospital bed. I woke up there 4 hours later with some nice ladies taking my blood pressure and my belly not hurting quite so much.
After two days of supping my meals via IV, it was determined that I probably had some swelling in my bowels from the radiation, causing the constriction of the almost undigestable raw carrot mass that bunched up on me. Medical recommendation -- manage my bolus. Eat small portions of well-chewed raw vegetables and other things that may want to clump or bunch up on me.
Once I had successful bowel throughput, I was allowed to leave the hospital yesterday. I am feeling pretty good and the edema has also dissolved, so I am able to walk around pretty good, too.
On Tuesday morning, trying to be a good little cookie, I got a bowl of raw baby carrots and radishes from the refrigerator to accompany my morning on-line gaming. Munching, I played my magical druidess-fury in Everquest 2 for an hour or so. Then I realized that I felt like I had swallowed diamonds and they were cutting me up inside, big time.
I logged off and went to my bedroom to lay down. I slept for an hour or so, and if I did not move, and I lay in just the right position, I did not feel the searing pain in my gut. However, bowels being bowels, they kept signaling that evacuation was imminent. And they lied. Thus, I popped up, struggled to the restroom, laid back down, wiggled to find comfort, napped and the pain went on and on and on. After a couple of hours, nausea set in and it was a good thing I had my plastic basin from my last bout of upchucking in February.
By 6pm, I was worn out and getting so tired I was having trouble popping out of bed for the waddle to the toilet.
I called for help to daughter Janel and son Michael. Michael was in route from work to his home north of me here in Atlanta and he managed a u-turn on I-400 back toward me, and Janel aimed for the hospital to meet us. Poor Michael had to help his naked mother get her clothes and shoes on and waddle out the front door, down the steps and into his car for the jaunt up to Northside Hospital, carrying her plastic basin of 'catch it all' and a towel to sit on, just in case of old lady leakage.
Admittance breezed by, I got up on the gurney, into my backless gown, basin close by, IV hung and punctures accomplished. Quickly I was wheeled off to the X-ray department for a peek inside to confirm I had a food blockage in my small intestine. Nurses and internists intently listening to my non-existent bowel sounds.
My bowels were dead stopped and very tender to the touch. I patiently explained about my survival of 100 doses of radiation therapy in February, a likely major contributor to my malfunction. Additionally, a C-Scan was called for to confirm the X-ray pictures. I almost pleaded for the benedryl to calm my panic attack from the iodine dye burn that C-Scans always give me. So far this year -- 4 C-Scans, 65+ X-rays of chest and abdomen and 100 doses of focused radiation. I glow in the dark now and have exceeded my lifetime safe exposure rate for high energy particles.
Blessed relief in the form of some morphine-like stuff added to my IV and I swam upstream to a nice place to listen in a stupor to Tuesday night's episode of Blind Justice and Hank the seeing-eye dog. Headache was pretty intense, so I took more pain-killer when it was offered.
A private, sterile hospital room was found for me, I was wheeled up and I passed out in the elevator going to it. It seems, according to Janel, when asked where I was and I told her I was with 3 dogs on a sheep hunt. But I have no idea how they got me onto my hospital bed. I woke up there 4 hours later with some nice ladies taking my blood pressure and my belly not hurting quite so much.
After two days of supping my meals via IV, it was determined that I probably had some swelling in my bowels from the radiation, causing the constriction of the almost undigestable raw carrot mass that bunched up on me. Medical recommendation -- manage my bolus. Eat small portions of well-chewed raw vegetables and other things that may want to clump or bunch up on me.
Once I had successful bowel throughput, I was allowed to leave the hospital yesterday. I am feeling pretty good and the edema has also dissolved, so I am able to walk around pretty good, too.
