tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34255444892688908012024-02-19T09:09:30.462-08:00Where ya from?It is impossible to begin to learn that which one thinks one already knows.Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.comBlogger315125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-64541842382282657652023-10-14T18:19:00.000-07:002023-10-14T18:19:23.236-07:00The Irony of it all...<p><span style="font-size: large;">I was sitting in my chair at the oncologist yesterday getting my infusion when the nurse, a young nurse that I refer to as a "whipper snapper" asked me what kind of nursing I do. I told her hospice and she immediately said, "wow, isn't that hard?" I thought about what she said and replied, "all nursing jobs are hard, aren't they?" But then without looking at me, she said, "all your patient's die."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Yes, little miss whipper snapper, damn near every one of my patient's that I have cared for on hospice has died. A few don't die and get kicked off, but the lion's share of my work is with the dying.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I then said to her," don't you find it ironic that I am a hospice nurse, I have cancer and am probably going to die from that?" She replied, "well you look really good" and said no more. Yeah thanks I thought, and honestly I am feeling good and hoping all this goodness lasts. I made a deal with God when I was first diagnosed that I wanted to make it to my son's wedding so I can dance. Well I made it and then attended 3 more weddings and danced to almost every song! It was amazing and I was tired but so happy to be able to dance!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That brings me to why I am writing after such a long time. I used to think about folks who had cancer and and said it changed their life for the better, and could not fathom that. I can't say I am thrilled at having cancer and being in treatment, but honestly my life has changed for the better. <i> </i>I can hear the groans as you read this but let me explain...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Almost 3 years ago, I spent my life "doing". I always had a conversation going on in my head, some positive but more often negative. I was thinking about how I was going to do the things I needed to do, how I was going to keep my house clean, how I was going to make the staff I was managing work harder because if they didn't do the visits, then I would have to and I could not bear for a patient to not get the care they need. I spent time thinking of better ways to do things so I could have some down time and if I had down time, I felt like I was wasting all my time. I was trying to be the winning rat in the race. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, along came my sweet friend, cancer. I didn't look at her like that then. I was worried, devastated, and thought I was not gonna be around much longer. I listened to people telling me to quit my job and retire, make my bucket list and get going doing the things on it. I wanted to change everything about my life if I was gonna die and figure out what I really wanted. When I was told that "they had gotten it all" in surgery, I recovered, went on my merry way and started the rat race again. I mean, yeah I decreased my work hours to 32 a week but honestly I worked over 40 just to get things done.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">When I had my second scan, I was told my cancer had spread and I was stage 4. We all know stage 4 is a big scary deal and so I sat on the couch again quiet unless I was crying for a week trying to figure out what to do. Now I am going to die, I thought and started making a bucket list for real. Funny thing about my bucket list...it's became pretty simple after I really thought about it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The doctor started me on a second immunotherapy med and that knocked me for a loop. I had the honor of mouth sores, diarrhea, crazy fatigue and my joints were killing me. Through it all, I kept working and trying to figure out how to live. My kids moved back to Denver area and while they say it was not because I was dying...yeah, OK!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">That was my second summer with my friend, cancer. We tweaked some things and my fatigue got better. I finally figured out how to eat food with all the sores in my mouth and I just lived with the other side effects. I continued to work and decided that it was time for a change there. Before last summer I quit my job and went back into the field to care directly for patients. I could shut my phone off at the end of the day and all weekend and know that my folks are being taken care of. I was in the car more, so I started listening to podcasts about quieting your mind and stopping the non-stop chatter so you can think clearly when you have to.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I have to honestly say that I probably would not have learned and done any of this work on myself if I hadn't come up against a cancer diagnosis. I would have meant to but didn't stop because I had "some day". I now have some room in my brain to look at things a little different and I spend so much more time in gratitude. Being thankful for the little things along with the big things. Realizing how much my kids and Jim mean to me and how I try to spend time with them if they will have me. I've let go of some of the wishing on things that worry me in the future because I know at this point in time, this is all I have. Since I have left my job and started my new one, I have taken time off for my son's wedding and taken a quick trip to Mexico with Jim...sun, sea of Cortez and quiet time together, that Jim and I had been planning for "some day soon".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So am I glad I have cancer...I have to say no but I am sure glad to have found a more peaceful life more of the time, and I make sure I tell folks that I love them and when they will let me, kiss them on the cheek.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">When I looked up irony, the definition is perfect. A state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects. I never expected to get cancer and I never expected to think of it as something that is helping me enjoy my time on earth more.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So here's to life in all its fullness. Don't think too far in the future and just live now...I mean it is all we have and might as well make the best of it!!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Love you all,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Talk soon,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-39345403957881648502023-03-26T15:42:00.001-07:002023-03-26T16:08:23.419-07:00Finishing strong<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> I have been making decisions and then acting on them. One of my decisions I made at the end of February, early March, is to change jobs. I will be leaving my current job at the end of the week and starting another job early April. I did this with lots of thought and lots of pride and sadness as I loved my job and I always thought I would retire from it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I am learning a lot about change and about what I call "finishing strong." When Jim and I had sent 2 out of 3 to college and Howie was still home, I fought the urge to stop making nightly dinners and having dinner as a family. I had done that for all the years that we had everyone home and thought, well, does that really matter as it is just Jim and I and Howie probably doesn't want to hear our old parent advice. I mean, he had heard it twice before as the other two were seniors in high school. But I did it...I would text Howie every day, ask him what he wanted for dinner, and he and I would cook together and then Jim, Howie and I would sit down for a great meal. It made my heart sing to hang out with him and honestly, the kid is a great cook!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">So now to finish strong as I leave one job and move to the next. I have done my best nursing at this job and also have done my worst. I learned how to be in other people shoes and have learned to meet people where they are. I have cried with countless family members and empowered them to finish strong when their loves were leaving them. I have worked with amazing nurses that turned into people I managed and became their boss. I stopped being the caregiver to patients and became the caretaker to the nurses. I tried to honor their difficult, emotional work and walk the tightrope of managing them. I tried to be a servant leader....serve them while they served others. At times I did an okay job and others I did not. The last thing I tried to do was help them understand the gifts they bring and to understand what an honor it is to be with families when they are losing a love, and to teach them how to help that family finish strong. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I think about my journey, with a cancer diagnosis in June of 21, and metastatic diagnosis in February 22 and then a scan to see which way things are going every 3-4 months. I admit, I have been very lucky. June of 21, when I got the diagnosis and had surgery to get that kidney out, my kids showed up and in the days following, they have never left. Those who know me, know that the sun rises and sets on my 3. They all ended up less than an hour away, and I see them frequently. If I need them, they are there. Jim and I are learning to live with a different focus that does not look out far into the future. We look at trying to make the best of every day together. Some days are the best and some days are certainly not. We try not to sweat the small stuff which is easier said than done and we are trying to be kind to each other at all costs. Like I said...some days are better than others and we are trying. After almost 35 years of marriage, we know how to push each others buttons. The days and months go by and we try to do things we love together and apart. We go on...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Living with cancer is a mind game. In the beginning, I will admit, it paralyzed me. I struggled with how to think and what to think and my focus became to finish strong. I thought about how I need to tell everyone who I love what they mean to me at every turn. I still believe that... however I don't come on as strong. Now that I am going into year 3 with little change in my health, I am slowing down and trying to live entirely in the moment most of my days. I am figuring out what I want and what moments I want as I have no guarantees that life will give me those moments again. Really, when you think about it, life gives no one guarantees. A person with cancer is just more keenly aware I guess. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Living with cancer is like waiting for the next shoe to drop but trying not to think about it. It's taking inventory of your body every day, the aches and pains, the side effects from the medicines you are on and then moving on. It's doing the things you love to do and focusing on those things and then doing the things you have to do in daily life and moving on. When you are living with cancer, you still have to do laundry, make meals, pay bills and clean the house. You still have to show up for your family and on days when the sadness takes over, you bow out of life a bit and rest...knowing that when you open your eyes and the sun came up the next day and you are here...It's a gift.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">For me, it's about "finishing strong".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">We'll tawk soon.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I love you all.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Terry</span></p>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-8964632817114349962023-01-29T15:54:00.000-08:002023-01-29T15:54:03.462-08:00Getting busy...<p><span style="font-size: large;">As usual, I am writing after a long abscence, not because things are bad but because things are good. At the end of November, I had a CT scan instead of a PET and it showed that one of my two tumors have "resolved" and the other one continues to shrink. What that means is that the immunotherapy is working and I have less cancer than when I started!!! I now am scanned every 4 months so that takes away one epidsode of "terror week" as Jim and I call it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I really am doing good. I continue to work and enjoy it. I love being a nurse and helping people as I always have. Behind the scenes there are days of doubt and sadness...especially when I don't have the energy to do some of the things I love. But honestly, for the most part...life goes on.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Last Spring I got a phone call from an old friend telling me that we had dates in Jan 2023 at a Hut up in the Colorado high country by Leadville. It was for 2 nights and she invited me and my family to join her and her family. She and I go way back to Howie's kindergarten days and have a great fondness for each other. I got the word out and the kids all said yes and took the days off of work.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">January 2023 came up faster than I thought and around November, I decided it might be time to research the hut. It was rated an Easy to moderate ski in and it was in a beautiful mountain range about 3 hours from the house. The ski in was 6 miles and lot's of "gentle elevation" until the last few miles where it went mostly up. The family was in, sans Christie and Kevin, and we got to planning. Jim and I started spending time XC skiing up on Guanella Pass and trying to get in some kind of shape. Well, of course, Jim (who is part Mountain Goat) was fine and had no reservations. I, on the other hand, always have anxiety about outdoor things and need to get in shape. As I spent time on my ski's, I began to feel stronger and more confident. We decided to go out the weekend before with packed packs to do the last dry run, and I had a heck of a time. I had no energy, my joints ached and could not make it a mile. My feet hurt from the boots, my back hurt from my pack, my stomach went wild and I couldn't get myself out of it. I decided I was not going to go and ruin everyone's time while I suffered through. I cursed the cancer, the fatigue, the immunotherapy and myself for not training earlier or harder. I even felt like Jim didn't think I could make it...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Remember earlier when I said, "behind the scenes"? I went to work and pretended that it was gonna be okay but I was depressed and all the feelings of my illness journey came back. I cried and when Jim tried to talk to me, I told him he didn't know what it was like to be me and in my shoes...`</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Then I talked to my kids and all 3 said they thought I could do it. They all said that this trip was mine and that I was the one that got them excited to go, and " One bad day in the outdoors is not a referendum on how every day in the outdoors is going to be". I figured out best case scenario and decided to go.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We left on Wednesday morning around 6 am and drove to Leadville, gathered our group at Safeway and headed to the trailhead. It was 12 degrees when we put our packs, ski's and bundled up for the trip. I felt pretty good from the beginning and it snowed gently the whole way in. I worried that I was holding up the gang and I said so. Besides my family and Katie's, there were friends from Steamboat who were the ultimate outdoorsmen. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> Now, really, do they want to be held up by an old lady with cancer?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As we skied, we split up into groups and those changed as we went. The only thing that stayed steady is that I was pulling up the rear with Katie, Mac and an outdoorsman keeping me going. We got to the turn off to head up hill, had a quick snack and water and began the up. It was so hard, and I was struggling. I would count to 100 and stop to breathe. My pack seemed heavier and my energy was waning. I was slowing even more than even the kindest of folks wanted to go, but heard not a peep from them. I only heard encouragement. We got half way up the hill and my skiing had slowed to a crawl. I kept telling myself to keep going and I was, but it was obvious I was gonna take awhile. Then from the top of the trail comes one of the outdoorsmen and takes my pack and starts skiing with us. He tells me we were getting closer and to keep moving. I started moving ever so slightly faster and he is talking and making time go faster, and he has my pack! We finish the next mile or so and another outdoorsman comes out to cheer us on, knowing I was the problem but not saying a word. Before I know it, I see the gate to the hut and start to cry because I made it!!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As the first night goes on, not one word about me being last, being slow, or anything of the like. When I thanked them, they talked about how it wasn't easy and how awesome it was I made it and should be proud. We ate meals together and learned about each others families, how much the whole group loved the outdoors, and played games and laughed. The serious powder hounds went out on day two and had the time of their life in deep powder and gentle hills. The sun shone in the cabin for the few of us that stayed back and I napped on the couch and thought a lot about life.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">When everyone came back that night, we had delicious chili, old fashioned's made by Howie, who I never knew could mix up such fancy drinks, food from everyone as a starter and the warm fire in the hut. It could not have been warmer with new friends, great food, and great drinks....not to meantion the warm fires.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The trip out was not nearly as daunting and I did it by myself with a group in front and a group who left later to get some more of that precious powder stash. It also wasn't as beautiful in retrospect. You see, I learned something about needing help and accepting help. I learned that sometimes I am the one who needs the help and if that time comes, for the helpee or the helper, magic happens. I never want to be the one who needs help or encouragement. I always want to be the strong one and the one to take care of others. This trip showed me that being either one is valuable.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">When humans show vulnerability, there is always a human that will feel that and step in to help, comfort and encourage. Everyone has days that we aren't winning and days that we need help but hesitate to ask. There are also days that we are winning and need to be aware that the person in the group is not. When we reach out and meet folks where they are at, the magic happens! The love of human kindness lifts the ones needing comfort and the comforter feels the appreciative love right back. It helps us remember we are human and we all go through tough times. What seems small to someone on the outside, may be so much more to the person needing the help. Lord knows all these gestures of kindness helped me.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So once again, as we all go through this life, with it's ups and downs...know that some days you are the comfort for someone and some days you need the comfort and neither place is wrong or right. It just is. So let's be who we are, who we are called to be and put love and kindness first. I know it made my trip one of the best.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk soon,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-79296120495583614152022-10-16T10:09:00.000-07:002022-10-16T10:09:00.628-07:00Life is different these days...<p><span style="font-size: x-large;">It's Sunday and lot's of Sundays I go to church. Not this one, I will watch it on you tube, but today, I am in my head so much, I thought I would stay home and try to write a blog. I haven't written in a long time so I thought I would catch you up on things.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">June 22, 2021, at around 11 o'clock, I my R kidney taken out of me that was full of cancer. I got to experience all the things cancer, the what if's, the terror of learning that I could be dying, the humbleness of having so much pain that I tried to stay loaded on Morphine and then said things that made no sense for days while I tried to recover.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Then I came home and recovered, felt really good and prayed to God that when the surgeon came out and told Jim and Christie that he got "everything"...that he really did! I walked around in gratitude and hope this was a big one off and how lucky I was that I got to experience all this "goodness and learning" because I am a hospice nurse and I am the luckiest person in the world. I made my oncology appointment 3 weeks later because, " Oh yeah that's right, I <i>had</i> cancer" and the oncologist tells me that "I just have to watch you every 3 months because at this time, you are cured!" Jim and I walked out of the office holding hands and thinking we just won the lottery of life!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I healed up and we started doing all the things that we did before, biking and hiking and having our cocktails at happy hour. Life was so good we could not believe it!!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I went to Florida in Nov 2021 to visit my college buddies (scheduled when I thought I may be dying) and then family after my first scan and results were good, but now that I look back, not perfect. That scan gave Jim and I the glimpse of terror that now comes every 3 months with scans, but then I didn't think too much about it as I was still "cured" per the oncologist!!! He asked insurance to put me on Keytruda, an immune therapy that just came out for folks who had bad kidney tumors. I was so happy when insurance approved and started my every 3 week journey in the "chair" for my IV immune therapy. The good new there was that I tolerated it well and had no side effects.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Life went on just like before, but now every 3 weeks I sat in the chair for 30 minutes! I lived in the thought of "I can do this and I am feeling great" and I biked at Buff Creek and continued to hike trails and not even think about it. Life was so good and my family just kept doing what we always do. Howie was in Michigan, Mac and Elise in Minnesota and Christie and Kev in Lakewood. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">February 2022, terror week rolled around. I got my scan and have learned by now that the results come when the radiologist reads it. I had my scan on a Wednesday and was supposed to go to the oncologist the following week to get results, but I was hoping they would come earlier. Well, they did. It was a Sunday morning and Jim and I were drinking coffee at the kitchen table before church and I checked my email. There was the email from the oncologist portal saying I had new results. Because it took 5 days, I was thinking something was wrong so I burst into tears and started to cry as I opened it. I hesitated when the report came up and was afraid to read it and I was right to be! 2 tumors in my lung that were not there before. The final reading said, tumor growth and Stage 4 metastatic disease!!!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I fell deep into a hole and didn't know how to navigate this. Who do you tell? Am I on my way out and if so, what matters? I'm a Hospice nurse and I have watched folks have a ton of hope only to learn that nothing worked...Is that going to be me? As I spoke all of this out loud, Jim would say, "Terry, we'll just do the next thing. We'll go to the doctor and see what is next." I sent an email to my boss and said I needed the week off, told Jim he needed to tell the kids and sat on the couch. I didn't want to talk to anyone, think about anything else except the what if's and cry in my drink. Like I said, I am a hospice nurse and understand dying but as I learned that day.....I am a hospice nurse for others and understand dying...for others and his was me!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">Jim and I went to the oncologist the next week and he recommended I start another med, another immune med that will work on the cancer. He told me there aren't too many side effects. "you won't lose your hair like regular chemo" he said. Fabulous....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">By the grace of God, I got fast tracked into UCH for a second opinion. They recommended a PET scan and lung biopsy, which I had in the same week. Results were mixed and the Oncologist at UCH, who could have been my daughter, said I was getting the right treatment. I told her through tears that I wanted to last until my son got married next year and she assured me I would. Let's hope so, right?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">As for now, I continue on with 2 immune therapy drugs and feel okay. To this day, I am doing that. I have terror weeks every 3 months and the last 2 scans have been better! I have smaller tumors, no new anything and am blessed. Side effects have been a little more brutal than I would like and the fatigue did overwhelm me at some points. I mean, as I go along, It could be so much worse, right? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> After my February set back, I now have all my kids in the area....I see them regularly and my family sustains me. My son and his love are getting married and I am planning on being there to celebrate for sure. I am not saying no to anything that sounds fun. I realized that while some folks have a bucket list that has travel at the top of it, I do not. I would love to travel, but I would rather be spending time with the people that I love. I want get togethers with my loves, time to laugh and reminisce about the times of life that made us close and how we got each other through this life. I want authenticity, commraderie, and comfort. The things I think of with enduring love and friendship through the years. I want you to accept me as I am and I will for you. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I honestly cannot believe I have been on this journey for 16 months! I have cut down on work and will continue to figure that out as I love being an nurse! I go to counseling to try to keep the demons of fear and anxiety at bay, try daily not to sweat the small stuff, and never leave a gathering without saying I love you, and kissing them goodbye. Even if I last 20 more years, which is highly unlikely, I want everyone I love to know I do. I don't count on do overs and I try not to take any time for granted...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">We'll tawk soon,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I truly love you all,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span></p>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-40845486052670643452021-09-12T14:55:00.002-07:002021-09-12T14:55:37.458-07:00" Such a beautiful family"<p><span style="font-size: large;"> About a month ago, when I was recovering from my surgery, I had this overwhelming feeling that I wanted to have my family get "professional" pictures taken. I had talked to the kids before about it and they balked about it, but when your mother who just got her cancer removed asks...well, you know.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The next time we would all be together was for Jim's 60th birthday. I asked my friend, the professional photographer, to take pictures if she was available that time and she said she was. I invited her and her hubby over for dinner and the pictures were taken. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward a few weeks and the pictures were emailed to me to look at. At first, I looked and my first thought was....." I look terrible". Then I went through them and thought...."Jeez, Jim looks so old." I looked at the ones with all of us and decided they were good, I mean the kids look good...they look like themselves and how I see them and I was thrilled. I started to think about how Jim and I look and realized that I really don't look at him or myself much. I mean I look, but I don't see myself or Jim. I see us and don't think about what we really look like. We tell each other that "we are who we are" and go about our lives.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Last night, I posted the pictures of my gang on Facebook. I got tons of responses that said, "Beautiful family" and I was pleased. Honestly, I didn't expect that response and I said to myself, " we are far from beautiful." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I have some friends that have "beautiful" as in looks, families. They are very pleasing to the eye and have the looks of models. That, I'm aftraid, is not my family. " We are who we are" and I don't say that in a "not pleasing to the eye way" but we are all a combination of each other and the kids are too. We are regular people who try to remember what life is about and have fun when we are together.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Then I got to thinking...Every family is a beautiful family! They are a combination of each other, of the living daily as they grew and the leaving each other to brave the world alone. Family is a beautiful patchwork of the quiet one, the loud one, the smart one or the ones that don't fit any mold. Families are all missing teeth at some point, whether to get dentures in the older folks and growing new teeth in the younger ones. Both of those times are beautiful. There are times when parents don't feel like they have beautiful families, when there isn't a moment devoted to anything but keeping the kids afloat, or times when one of the parents cannot stand the other and the kids are wondering what is going to happen with their family. It is all part of being human and having misunderstandings and vying for power. It is what every family does.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I have been listening to podcasts lately and a quote I heard that I really resonate with is, "the enemy of happiness is comparison" and I believe that. I used to be such a "comparer" and saw folks that I thought were the "perfect" family. Then I would look at my kids and family and think I needed to work harder and figure out what I needed to do to make my family "better" as if who we were at the time was not good enough. I regret that now because honestly, who we were then hasn't changed much and I love who we are now. They were loud, energetic, argumentative, loving, kind and busy...Like every family learning to grow up and learn about life.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So I say it again...every family is beautiful...in their own way. Maybe beautiful in a different way than some of us find beauty. They may have different views than you and do things different than you. They may have a giant home or a little cabin with no room for anyone to have their own room...They may yell too much at each other or not talk at all to each other. But they are a group of humans that are infinitely linked and doing the beautiful work that families do. There is no question the work of families staying together and supporting eachother while navigating life is stunningly beautiful!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So thanks for all the comments about my beautiful family. I say right back at you with yours, professional portraits or not!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Terry </span></p><p><br /></p>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-12722167064957026942021-08-23T18:51:00.000-07:002021-08-23T18:51:02.567-07:00You can't change the past...<span style="font-size: large;"> Hello,</span><div><span style="font-size: large;">I am doing well and am feeling so much better than I did for quite awhile. Didn't really notice how bad I was feeling until I felt better. I blamed it on menopause, COVID, long hours at work and so on. As my husband says,"can't change the past" so I have been doing inventory on my life and trying to change things.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I always thought of myself as an authentic person. I hoped to be very real and live my life that way. This big "life scare" has made me even more comitted to love the people I love harder and not waste time on things that don't matter. It's not easy to change life long habits though. It takes time...and honestly I don't know that I have a ton of time. I know I am cured and I know that I feel great, however, the what if's can take over my mind if I let them. While "what if's" aren't bad in many cases, in mine....I always go to the negative. I hate that about myself but being my authentic self...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, I was watching my daughter and her friend, Jill, do a triathalon. They swam a 1/2 mile, biked 12.5 miles and ran a 5 K. I told them I was going to do that with them early in the spring and would start training for it, but never had the energy after work to do it. Finally I decided I was too old and tired to ever do one again. I wasn't too sad as I was thought I was being dramatic and thought that I would get my act together at some point and train. Anyway, yesterday, I heard myself say, " If I am alive next year, I am going to do this tri with you guys". Why the hell did I say that? Even if things don't go my way....I suspect will be here at this time next year.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It makes me so aware of what my patients have gone through in my career. I understand why my mother never went to the oncologist to hear her diagnosis. She was scared and was hoping that she was healthy. Now I know you face things head on and as Jim says, "do the next thing." </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I have been listening to church hymns during the day. It has been so easy to talk about my faith when I am feeling good and have the world by the tail. I can do it now, but it is not so easy. Why? Because I feel like I really need to believe it. I have questioned so much through my life about God. I watch my children who were raised in the church question and they are right. How do you believe something you don't see without asking a few questions. I have been doing that for years, asking questions in my head and wondering why things happen. I really struggle with the "God's plan" stuff especially with patient's I care for. If a family says that, I just stay quiet and listen as I struggle with those kind of things. I wish I knew all the answers, but we don't....I don't, you don't and to act like we do makes us not authentic.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Having said that, I am on a journey. A journey to love harder, not waste precious time with things that don't matter, honoring time and being aware of it. I am praying....I love to talk so I talk to God a lot, and hoping for the gift of time. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Honestly, I feel great, and I have been taking inventory of my life on a weekly basis. I have a great husband....amazing kids or should I say, young adults and so many awesome friends. I am overly lucky in so many ways...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I have some free advice. Don't wait until you get a wake up call. Take inventory now of what really matters to you and focus on that.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Do you wish you could spend more time with your spouse? What is holding you back? Figure it out and make it happen. How about your kids? Do you need to spend time with them? Then do it. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">All I know is "you can't change the past" as Jim Ritter says, and I have learned that tomorrow is not guaranteed....</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Get after it!!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk soon,</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span></div><div><br /></div>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-24490460708608032962021-07-15T19:12:00.004-07:002021-07-15T19:12:38.210-07:00Dates with Doctors...<p><span style="font-size: large;">Good hazy morning from the top of the mountain! I want to thank all of you for the good wishes! I am feeling really good, better than I have in the last year and know some of it is the positive vibes and prayers that were lifted up for me!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">On Monday, I ventured to yet another doctor. I am the proud owner of an Oncologist...never thought, or I guess I should say, never wanted my own cancer specialist. But hey, life is like that isn't it? You ask for many things that you don't get and many times you get things you don't ask for!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As my kids and Jim know, I hate going to doctors. I was raised in a home that we didn't go to doctors for years and years unless we were unable to function due to an illness. My mother used to say, "Don't go lookin' for trouble" and I lived by that mantra for many years. Lemme tell you that in this instance, the mantra did not serve me so well. I mean, yes, I went for my mammograms begrudgingly, my well woman stuff but when I had things I could take care of, I would work my magic and take care of them. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">This time is different as we know and Monday I began to panic about what my new friend, the oncologist was going to say. I wondered if my other doctors had not told me the whole story and there was more news to digest. I walked to the end of the road and used my best calming techniques of late to put this anxiety somewhere and it helped.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Jim and I arrived at the office and we waited until the gal at the check in could take my insurance card and co-pay, and then sat down. I looked around and saw the patients that had similar diagnosis that I cared for and have tried to serve so well. There were older folks that looked frail and seemed to be confused with all the paperwork, there were folks that were rolled in with a wheelchair that could not walk long distances, and then like a rush of energy, came this younger gal with a bald head and beautiful dress woosh by me in a hurry to get somewhere. I thought, "yeah, I am in the cancer club too."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">As we were waiting to be called, I stared at my hands and thought of all the patients I cared for that probably sat in the same seat as me thinking about the future of their life. I tried to push those thoughts away but I couldn't. I mean, I have to think of all sides of this right now and find where I can find some peace. Then I looked at Jim and thought how he was such a good man and now he we have this journey to go through together. I always thought about him as the long suffering husband with me as his wife, just with regular life.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Finally they called me. "Teresa come this way" and I walked to the scale, got my vital signs checked and we took a seat in the exam room. I could tell the anxiety was beginning to take my breath away as I tried not to think of worse case scenario. Once again I went down the road in my head to all my patients and thought of how they started in a visit like this. I thought of all of the ones that were so strong and loving and fought the fight and then called it when it was no longer the way they wanted it to go. I thought of the ones that fought the fight until the last breath as well. I looked at the signs in the office of the drug trials and medication for metastasis. Then as I was going to worst case for me, my oncologist walked in and introduced himself. It was surreal and I began to count my breaths as he was silently reading my records. Then he took a big breath and began telling me about what he thought about this cancer.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">He was data driven at the beginning...odds of this and survival rates of that. I appreciated the info although it did make it so real again in so many ways. Then he got specific with my lovely brand of cancer, and gave me some info about how things can go and I had to choose. After listening, he talked about clinical trials for prevention and said there were none available for me right now. I told him I knew he liked trials and without missing a beat, he said, "that is how we are going to cure cancer." Then we made a plan for me. He said he and I would see each other every 3 months for a few years to watch me. A quarterly date with the CT scanner and oncologist...."great I thought, something I never thought I would have to do, but okay". He noted that I am cured right now and we want to keep it that way and monitor me closely right now. I agree and feel as though this is the best case scenario for me. Then I asked all the questions about diet and exercise and life and he said....."Don't think like a nurse with scenarios, just listen to your body and if something is off, call me, send me an email and we will discuss how to deal with it". "Go live your life and I will see you in three months", and stood up and walked out.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Jim and I sat there for a few seconds and stood up and walked out. I saw an old friend on the bench outside who was waiting for her husband to have his chemo. She and I cried as we wondered how life has brought us to this place. Not in an angry way and not in a "why me" way but just how the twists and turns of life are complicated and you cannot predict when it is your turn for stuff like this.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I am in a funny place...trying to figure out how to move past the worry of what could be, put it somewhere and honor it as I go on to do the things I want to do and live my life. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">So for today, all I know is that I can walk 3 miles to the mailbox, nap like a bear in hibernation, kiss my husband whenever I need to (which used to be not on my to do list very much after 32 years) and do things slowly if I want. The only thing I know that is not changing is right this minute and the few minutes behind it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Otherwise this life, my life is going to unfold how it does even if I plan it all out to be a different way. And yes, we all know that is true whether you have an illness or not, but having an illness that affords you a date with an oncologist and quarterly CT scans makes it even clearer even if you are cured......</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">We'll talk tomorrow,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-87698069405626453412021-07-08T16:05:00.000-07:002021-07-08T16:05:10.689-07:00When the rubber meets the road...<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">Hello dear friends, </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It has been quite a while since I sat down to write anything in this blog. I feel as though now is the time to catch up with you all and let you know what is going on. I also give you a chance to think about your life after COVID and what friends and time mean to you. In the last years, I am not sure of who I became. I worked crazily through COVID, trying to be the hero for anyone who would listen and let anyone who listened know how busy I was. What I have learned is that I did not make enough time for what I deem most important to me.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"What the hell is she talking about here" I bet you are thinking. "When does she get to the hospice stuff or the family stuff that we used to read and laugh about?" Well, I am not getting to those things in this blog today. I am going to give you some good advice about how life changes on a dime and when you have time to think about it, you are stunned how far you have come from what you really need and want. At least that is my story today.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On June 13th, I turned 57 and told myself I was getting really old. We were going camping and I twisted my knee loading firewood and the campout was scratched. To be honest, I was in this weird mood because I wasn't quite right. Not sure what was wrong but didn't feel quite right. Having said that, if I was really honest, I hadn't been quite right for a while and thought I was just working so hard and not getting any down time.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Long story short, on 6/22 I became a person headed into the OR to remove a Kidney full of cancer and someone who will live with one l kidney. From diagnosis to surgery was 6 days and before I knew it, I woke up in the hospital, humbled to be the patient with an uncertain future. I became the person that I take care of and coach back to health and living life.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Holy Shit!!!! While you contemplate the uncertain future, your priorities and what you really value appear crystal clear. The husband that you are married to for 32 years all of a sudden becomes someone that you never want to leave, want to hold his hand, and just sit quietly with. You want to take back all the things that you said that were not so nice, but you can't so you promise that with your time left, you will be kind and loving. You lay in bed and wonder if you told your kids you loved them enough and that you are so honored to be their mother....and if you did, is it enough to keep them remembering me through the rest of their life if this is it? Oh and remember those friends that you love so much but didn't make time to see because you were so busy? All you want to do is talk with them and let them know that you miss them...</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before my surgery, those feelings washed over me...who do I need to make peace with? Who do I need to tell that I love them and will it sound hollow now that there is probably a time line? Where was I when life was boring and I didn't make time to send a text to check in?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">My next thoughts turned to my faith, my relationship with my God...I can tell you that even went by the wayside because I was too busy. I certaintly called on him when the results came back and I was terrified but how about the times when things were good and I didn't even think to send a Thank you up to the sky. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Why am I writing a blog about this? I need to remember this time in case this is it or hopefully, I look back in a year or two and do a check in on who I am and who I said I want to be. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">As you can imagine, I am not working at this time...I am recovering. I am reading, napping, doing a lot of nothing but also I am thinking. I am thinking about the second chance that I have been given to slow down, to live in the moment and to choose the positive. I am thinking about my priorities and what I want them to be in the last years of my life. I am doing the big inventory of what matters to me. Am I the person I wished I was? Not really... some parts are and some are still not quite there yet. Am I willing to make the big changes in life to be that person? I would say that I am willing to now, but really, I needed to be hit on the side of the head by a 2 x 4 to really think about it? Really is that is what it took? Sadly I am saying yes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">So here is your pro-tip for today and the days to come. Do a check on who you want to be, think you are and who you are. If you say that you want to be there for the people you love, are you? Do you make time to see the folks you say are your dear friends to just connect? If not, why? How do you fix that so you are the person you want to be and your behavior shows you are? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Along with the thinking for me is the physical recovery, and honestly, as Doris Joy used to say, "I'm no spring chicken anymore" so it is gonna take some time. I will have to learn to quiet my mind and listen to doctors on what the next steps are. I will do that and I will also make sure that I live in the now and not in the scary future. That's gonna take some work but I know I can do it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">As I look around, I have no shortage of amazing times and people in my life. I have family, friends, church, work and all the things I could ever need. Now, I just need to rest into those things and hope for the best. Oh and if you wanna have lunch or dinner and add a nice glass of wine...let me know and we can plan it. I am going to learn to say yes to things that feed my soul and no to the things that don't!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I love you all. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Terry</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-24714692606631002052019-09-29T05:35:00.002-07:002019-09-29T05:47:18.564-07:00Are you ready?After a long hiatus of writing, I am back. It's interesting how my brain works and how my life works and when you add 55 years to the mix, it is almost scary. I haven't taken the time to sit and think for a few years now as change has been the name of the game! From aging and chronic illness, to graduations, to peace corp volunteers, to job changes, to unemployment, to more graduations, to immigration filings, to marriages, to even more graduations, to empty nesters, to married adults in my basement, to jobs at home depot and finally to a road trip to Michigan to send my last off to adulthood at a new job! Just writing that list is exhausting and that doesn't even match the amount of emotion that has gone on with all of it.<br />
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I was lying in my bed sick for two days last week when I felt the familiar tap on the shoulder that I have every now and then my friend "the holy spirit". I ignore the taps and sometimes they go away. If they continue I have no choice but to listen.<br />
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All of a sudden, I am hearing those voices in my head that I used to hear when I blogged before. I used to call it "ideas" rattling and they would rattle around until I put them down on paper. Well, those pesky voices are back and just on a whim, I sat and began to read my old blog entries and knew it was time to begin again.<br />
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Bear with me because I am really rusty but I need to get these thoughts down...<br />
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I'm a Nurse Manager at the company that I have worked at ever since I went back to home health and hospice nursing in 2008. I have the most compassionate, hard working and big hearted nurses that are trying to balance life, kids, husbands, and demands their job while caring for and loving our hospice patients out of here. Oh, and I forgot, they are patient advocates to the "nth" degree. They are not going to "convince" anyone to choose hospice over another choice even if hospice is one choice or no choice at the time. Sometimes they won't even talk about end of life/hospice care with a patient that has no other options for treatment because, "they're just not ready"...<br />
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When they come back to the office and say that, I find myself launching into a diatribe many times....<br />
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Not to be disrespectful to anyone, but as I have navigated the hospice landscape (doesn't that sound like a manager?) for many years and feel so passionate about folks knowing all the choices, the concept of "just not ready" for hospice... makes me speak up. As a nurse in this field, it is not my job to convince anyone of anything but my duty to educate on all options for care that is available to folks at such a precious time. Here's why I think like this after my last couple of years...<br />
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I wasn't ready for my youngest son to leave the nest and go to Michigan from Colorado to work when there are perfectly fine jobs here and he could be close to the family. Even if I wasn't ready, it happened. Do I wish he was still close? I absolutely do... but the plan was for him to leave us and spread his wings.<br />
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I wasn't ready when my daughter left for the Peace Corps and then came home in love with a gentleman she met in Peru who needed to go through immigration and doesn't speak English. "Slow down, give it some time" I said. Time was not on their side with immigration. So while, not life and death, even if I wasn't ready, they are married and making quite a life for themselves.<br />
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And the final example of the biggest "I'm not ready" was when my husband was phased out of his job after 30 years and had difficulty getting another so he went back to college and got his degree. Then I was even more "less ready" when he finished and interviewed and after many interviews, he is "too qualified" and which means "too old" (and he'll tell you he is good and old) and we learned that our option is to keep moving forward living the life placed in front of you with as much joy and time spent with our loves.<br />
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So back to "I'm not ready" for those folks going through treatment and feeling like the have to keep going or they will die. No one is ready to die, right? If you've been told you have a terminal disease, it may be difficult to wake up but you do and you navigate your symptoms and feelings and treatment. I would guess you worry and feel pretty powerless at times. You know your treatment plan and you take it a day at a time and come through. It is not easy but you would not choose anything else. You had all the options and you made your choice. To you I pray for easy treatment and total healing!<br />
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I guess this next paragraph is to talk about choices for those that are not ready but are not offered all the options...<br />
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Hospice care is another option and not only when there are no others. Hospice care is not the choice of giving in. It is more of the choice of honoring the precious time that is given to you. It is honoring the time and making it "good" time or at least the best time you have with your loves when "you" decide that you can't take another minute of treatment or your doctor offers no other options. <br />
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Look at it this way: You can have 10 days of time sitting in a chemo chair talking to the pretty nurses with your wife sitting by you. Then she can drive you home and you can sit in you chair at home or get in bed and sleep until you wake up to throw up. Maybe you tolerate the chemo and you don't throw up but you fatigue and sleep many days straight after the treatment. Before you know it, your food is tasting metallic and your wife is waking you up to eat and you just want to stay in bed and sleep. Finally it wears off some and you plan your good days around MD appointments, blood draws, and tests to see if treatment is working. So you and your wife get on the roller coaster and go see Dr. So-n-so and he tells you that it is not working but there is a trial and you have can't eat this and that, and you'll have stop taking the pain meds that you are needing to stay "somewhat comfortable" and in a few weeks we will know if you qualify after more blood tests and scans. He thinks you will but can't be sure... and if so, he thinks it will buy you some time. So you go home and your really thinking your are so tired of all this but you and your wife decide to participate. You have your plan and I honor that but you still have another option that wasn't offered.<br />
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What if they offer hospice as a choice? Say you choose hospice because you can't stand the chemo or to go the the hospital one more time and while you aren't having treatment, you want to spend time at home and you want to see if there is a better way. So the "hospice people" call and schedule and your nurse shows up and begins to ask you questions about your journey, you pain, your sleep, your appetite and how your wife is holding up. She asks you what and who you love and then poses the question, "how do we figure out how to get you to spend your time the way you want to?". You answer and she talks about medications that are different for pain and how if they don't work, after a few days, we change them and we don't stop until we have found the right one so pain is not the first thing you feel every morning. Then, you ask how this is going to work and she asks you how you want it to work, and what your priories are. She says she will report on all the things she sees...the good, the bad, and the ugly. All of a sudden, while you know the end is not going to change, maybe the journey to the end will be better than it has been. You will be able to ask all the questions and get an answer and if there is none, you will know that. The nurse puts you at ease knowing you can call day or night for help and so can your family. All of a sudden you sense you have a small bit of your control back and maybe you will will be able to find the right drug to keep you comfortable so you can go fishing, hang with your kids, or do some of the things you haven't been able to because of your pain. You start feel some hope after a long dry season of battles and little hope.<br />
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It's about good time...and everyone has a different definition and different ways to spend our time. It's about knowing when enough feels like enough but you feel like there is no where to turn, there is a soft place to land. It about knowing the goals have changed from cure to symptom control, good time, comfort and your loves. And that too is a choice to be thought about when you and only you decide. But you have to have the information.<br />
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That's why after all these years of loving and caring for people at the end of life, my passion has not waned...<br />
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May you never have to make a choice you aren't ready for,<br />
May you have an abundance of time with your loves,<br />
And may that time always be good and peaceful!<br />
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We'll tawk tomorrow,<br />
I love you all!<br />
Love,<br />
Terry<br />
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<br />Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-52280086973612143232018-03-10T12:41:00.000-08:002018-03-10T12:43:18.184-08:00There is no such thing as a perfect life, but there certainly are perfect moments...<span style="font-size: large;">Hello again, my gosh I haven't written in a long time. I am good, so that isn't why I haven't written. I have been trying to live in the moment more and appreciate it all. Not as easy as it looks right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last week, I had the honor of seeing one, if not my favorite patient. She and I are friends, I would say more than she is my patient. I have cared for her for almost 4 years and it has been my pleasure and have learned so much about living a life with an illness that wasn't planned on...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I sat at her kitchen table with her, and her love talking. We talked about the "nursey" things and then moved on to their life together. We talked about what they used to do for fun when she could get out more and what they want to do for fun now. Then I asked how long they have been together as they are not married. After a little banter and flirting back and forth, they agreed it was 20 years. "Why didn't you get married?" I asked. "What for?" they chimed a little louder than I would have expected, "that doesn't mean anything to us." I sat there quietly and watched them look at each other. I thought, but didn't say, that it was absolutely true. They are devoted, they are looking at 80, started their love around the same age as Jim and I are now and saw no reason to make it "legal". They have cared for each other through some difficult times and never thought of leaving. They still banter and pick at each other sometimes but when they need each other it is an unspoken yes that is evident. I finished up that visit, kissed them both goodbye, and sat in my car. Another example of learning what enduring love looks like and it was a perfect moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last Thursday was a hard day for me. You know when you think everything going really well and fail to look at the whole picture? Well, last Thursday was that kinda day. It finished with a situation that was difficult to sit through as I was in a "I haven't seen the whole picture all day so I am gonna make sure I see it now." Needless to say, the whole picture that night was humbling and while good, I didn't handle it very well. So, you know me, after I got out of the meeting, I leaned against my trusty steering wheel, which has captured many tears from my job and let go. The next thing I did, if you know me, was drive to the liquor store for a bottle of wine. I sat in the car and wiped my tears and my drippy nose and walked in. There was a line at the check out and as I walked by them they all looked at me. One of the ladies stepped in front of me and asked if I was okay. I told her I was fine and that I just had a bad day. She wrapped her arms around me and comforted me and told me it was gonna be okay and that we all have those. I stepped back to find three other folks in line offering me a hug...Each one stepped forward and hugged me and said nothing. It was the sweetest, kindest gesture of comfort from strangers I have ever experienced. I got my bottle of wine and got in my car and realized that moment was just what I needed and was perfect. While we all worry about us humans and how we are becoming desensitized to others pain, I offer you this perfect moment of comfort and love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday morning before work, I spent an hour or so with one of my nurse's babies. He is about 6 months old and he is a joy to have around. She asked because she had to care for a patient really early and didn't have a sitter. Little did I know that saying I would help her out would be another one of those perfect moments. He was sitting in his carseat and playing with his toys while people came into my office to admire him and ask what the heck I was doing. Finally a scary person with a beard came in and he got a little scared and cried. I took him out of his car seat...which I must say these days is no easy feat compared to when I had little ones, and did my work with him on my lap. I had to take one of his socks off to look at his little baby feet and admire them...perfect, beautiful and ready to learn to walk at some point. I looked at his long eye lashes and thought about all the things he will see and learn along with all the winking and blinking when he gets older and begins to look to make his life. I thought of how it was such a difficult, precious time when mine were that little and honestly, if I could go back and do it again...I would in a heart beat. Finally, mommy showed up and I told her what a wonderful baby he is and hope she will suggest I watch him again. It started my day perfectly!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I spent the rest of the day with 2 of my CNA's providing care for patients. They were so kind and did a beautiful job. I was proud to be their boss. Then the day ended and it was time to babysit again. Nothing like this morning but help a friend that needed an adult presence in the house for the evening. Little did I know it was going to be the perfect finish to this crazy week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I showed up and they were having dinner. 5 of them around the table eating and talking. The older siblings had it totally under control and I was wondering why their mother thought they needed help. After dinner, they cleaned up their plates and the bed time routine began. Now, after hearing what we needed to do, I realized I had just moved to the twilight zone. A 2 year old, and a 4 year old and a 4 1/2 year old needed to be changed into pj's, teeth needed to be brushed and possibly diapers and underpants changed. Then, we needed to read 3 books, sing a number of songs, say some prayers and then they were down for bed. Okay, I thought, I can do this...I haven't lost my mojo of being a mom to cute boys. My kid to care for was the 4 1/2 year old precious young man. He showed me how he climbs all over the bunk beds, where the hamper is to throw his dirty clothes, where and how he puts on his pj's, how he brushes his teeth and spits, and the little stool in the bathroom that he uses to do that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then, we ventured to his bed, but not before he picked 3 books. We sat down on the couch and I put my arm around him and he snuggled in. We first read a book about a baby owl, and I tried to use my best baby owl voice to read the parts. Not sure it worked as well as his mom, but he was polite and smiled the whole time. He is so smart, there were pages of the owl book that he memorized and read to me. Boy, that brought back some memories. The next book was a halloween book that I was worried may scare him. He quickly told me that it was all pretend and fake and he was gonna be fine. So I began to read. I must say, back in the day, I took needing a lot of light to read for granted and had to tip the book towards the light to read. We finished that book and it did end fine. although the engineers pumpkin head did fall off...and at one point the train they were all on was carrenning out of control. The final book, he proudly took away and read it out loud. I sat awash in memories of my Mac and how he read us a book called "Truck song" every night because he remembered it. This guy read his "Cars" book to me and it was one of the sweetest moments of the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally we were done and on to the ending phase of the "bedtime routine." By this time, his big sister joined us to sing the songs and say the prayers that Mom does every night. They sang and she prayed and he was supposed to call it a night. But, I lingered a little to tell him what an awesome little boy he is and to thank him for letting me help put him to bed when he asked, "can you sing me some of your songs?" Another few perfect moments as he and I sang "Twinkle twinkle" and "Jesus loves me". He smiled up at me so big that tears came to my eyes. Then he asked if I had a prayer to say....so I pulled out the prayer I said to my children every night that I was home and when I wasn't Jim did...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Now I lay me down to sleep,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I pray the Lord my soul to keep,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Guide me through the starry night,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And wake me when the sun is bright."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I rubbed his head and kissed it as he tried to talk me into more but then I heard the dog barking outside and figured Dad was home. I came upstairs and in fact, Dad who had been out of town for a few days was home, and it was my time to leave.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I said my goodbye's, got in the car and leaned on my trusty steering wheel again. Not to cry but to try to capture the night in my brain and weave the memories with my own from my precious 4 1/2 year old boys. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It was a perfect end to a unusually difficult week filled with perfect moments that make a life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This morning, Jim told me how lucky he was to be married to me...I agreed, we are pretty lucky. We are two imperfect humans, with probably more than our share of imperfections, trying to remember those perfect moments that make a life worth living.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So what is the takeaway? Life is hard, with illness, pain and difficulties we don't even know will happen. But, mixed in the pain, illness and difficulties are these perfect moments. They happen out of nowhere and are usually not expected, or fancy ...but if they are honored and savored for what they are, they make life worth living!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So go out and savor those perfect moments today!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk soon,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-37494226905370865482017-12-26T19:59:00.003-08:002017-12-26T19:59:55.011-08:00New Years Resolutions<span style="font-size: large;">Tommorrow, in the afternoon, I begin my trek to Peru to see those I love and who loves them. You probably already know, my daughter is in the Peace Corps and is living in Peru. She has been there for a year and a half and last Christmas, when we visited, we didn't know it at the time...but we met her love. He is not typical, he is not from the US and he is an amazing man. They are planning a future together. It is almost surreal to watch your grown children make choices about how they will live when you are gone. When I hear her talk about him, I can see it, the admiration, his kindness, the attachment and love of family that we have. It will be something to see...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, I digress. I want to talk about today and the few days before that. It was Christmas eve and Christmas day and my adult children were together in another country. They were making food and talking spanish and loving each other and learning about being together without Mom and Dad. A little bittersweet for me because I cannot think of anything better than being all together with my loves and their loves but it didn't happen this year over Christmas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Instead, I worked. I saw patients. I went to homes where folks were looking at illness and death and sat beside them and touched their hands and held "space". We didn't need to talk if it was up to me, but if they started, I joined in. It made me feel so honored and almost lucky to be in their home at that time. To explain to the caregiver what services we offered and that this time is the most difficult time for caregivers but it also shows that person how much you love them...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I saw people who were losing their loved one to end stage neurological disease, and they wanted to keep them home and safe. They wanted to make coffee and muffins for them in the morning, even if the patient had forgotten how to chew and swallow. They wanted that comfort of the things they have always done to keep the familiar, if just to have a glint in they eyes of their love that they remember. I saw folks that had pain that was unrelenting and offered suggestions and a plan to follow so they could at least feel like they were helping (and they were). Then late on Christmas Eve, I saw a man who was mad...because he had cancer, because he was going to die, and because I was not perfect. He was so mad and there was nothing I could do to calm him or make it better. Finally, I left his house apologizing and realizing that sometimes I am the perfect person to be mad at and it's okay. I sat in my car in the driveway and cried...for the patient that could not remember, for the patient who was experiencing pain and for this gentleman that was so angry that he had terminal cancer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Christmas day, I did another round of patient visits and it was fine. Than, in the evening, I got a message from one of my patients families that her mother was in her last hours. I loved this woman...She was smart, kind, able to talk for hours with me if I had the time and told me she loved me when I left. I can't say that I fall in love this deeply with every patient, but with her...I did. I went to her 90th birthday party because she invited me. On that day, she was radiant and I could hardly believe that she would ever die. When I visited her, I would pull a chair up to her in her chair and just sit and look at her. She was 91 and beautiful...in the way that stands the test of time. When I got promoted, I asked one of my new nurses to take over and she did, but I missed her a lot. I called her caretaker one day to check on something and I got to talk to her...and found myself in tears because I missed seeing her weekly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today, her daughter let me know that she was dying. I went over and sat with her, told her I was there and what she meant to me. Next thing I knew, I was being handed a tissue by her daughter to </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">take care of me. I stroked her arm, and the coolness of the temperature told me that it was soon. I told her family how much she meant to me and what an honor it was to care for her, that I got more from her that she from me. I told them they had done everything right, but her daughter talked about how tired she was and encouraged her mother to go back to sleep in the middle of the night...the human side of caregiving. Finally, I kissed my sweet girl and told the family it was their time, to be together and wait... Once again, I cried in the front seat of my car from the emotion and relief and sadness for my patient.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I just got a message that she was gone. I am so happy that she is "with the Father" as she said but so sad that she is not here on earth with us. I am so honored that I got to be part of her life, to discuss the end of her life and hear her talk about how her life went.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now to the resolutions for 2018...Today, when I was thinking about her, I thought "Maybe I will put off going to see her, she has declined before and then bounced back"... Then I thought about how much I cared and loved sitting with her, how much she gave me in the short time I knew her and how I had to make time to give her one more kiss on her cheek just in case this is really it. It was a good decision...a great one, really. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So to put that decision into an action plan for 2018...when someone means so much to you..tell them, listen to them, hold space, be present...they may be mad at you because you are safe to be mad at...but, when you love someone, you give them time. You give them your attention, and your love. That is what I think is important...your time, your attention, your devotion...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That is my New Years resolution, and an amazing reminder of what really matters...thank you my sweet Nanny...you and your family taught me so much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-54557369532901886682017-10-14T17:12:00.000-07:002017-10-14T17:12:20.416-07:00It's been awhile...<span style="font-size: large;">I haven't written since last May...and have been struggling to put my thoughts down since then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Almost a year ago, I had a life changing, get your act together, learn to live well, love those close to you experience. I now needed help from others and wasn't the one barking orders, making faces and getting things done. I needed someone else to do that and to let me figure out what a new normal looked like. It was time to take care of myself, learn that I too, could use some help and needed to be present in every day!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, it's almost a year later and I would love to tell you what I have learned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Everyone has the same amount of time in a day</b>. We have 24 hours of time in each day for our personal use. We can look around and see that we are running out of time, or we can look around and see that this is the only time we have and use it wisely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Everyone has "worries " and it is not helpful to compare whose "worries" are worse.</b> Sure, we are human and do that but to focus on that is, in my opinion, a waste of time. Look at your life, change the things that you can, find a way to live with the things that continue to play a tape in your brain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*The sun comes up every day.</b> When I was trying to figure out my "new normal" I worried and worried that tomorrow wouldn't come or that it would be just as difficult as the day before. Guess what? Time is a healer...does it make the experience that you had go away? Of course not, but it helps you put it in a place to deal with it...to sometimes forget it and even soften the pain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Having an earth shaking experience is difficult but...it makes you appreciate who you have to surround you.</b> I have come to realize that I am the luckiest girl in the world. Are things perfect in my life? You probably wouldn't think so but I think they are. I am blessed with a husband of almost 29 years that is my best friend. Could he have married better? Sure because he has an amazing heart and doesn't look too bad either. But he stays, he listens, he laughs even though he knows who I am...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Remember your young adults will make their own life. </b> My children have made decisions that are different than the ones that I had dreamed about when they were suckling at my breast. Guess what? I am so proud of the people they are becoming and felt so supported when they were around. They are strong, independent and dedicated to service...which is really my dream for them!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Good friends are hard to come by.</b> When I was in the fire of worry, I had amazing friends who supported me. They called or didn't if I asked them not to, cried when I was worried, showed up at Thanksgivng dinner and pretended that I was just fine, and loved me no matter what. I am sure that this time last year wasn't easy to watch me struggle. I think we have learned that as we age it is not going to be easy to watch our friends have things that make them fragile...But with my friends, you wouldn't have known it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Being in service to others is the best medicine.</b> I was promoted to the "Nurse Manager" at Mt. Evans. I get to support my nurses and make sure they know how special they are. I watch them care for people who are dying with grace and love that only someone who knows how holy of a time that time is for a family. I get to help them and make visits when they go on vacation but I am in service to them now and feel so lucky that I get to<b> </b>do that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Dying is not the worst thing in the world in my opinion.</b> I have seen people dying that were surrounded by love and laughter and family that were so thankful for the time they had. It was beautiful and peaceful. The folks left behind were so proud of how they cared for their loved one and became the family that the patient wanted them to be after they were gone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>*Life is never easy.</b> Life is life. It is really pretty messy if you think of it. At least, my life is. I have had the honor to care for families in my nursing career that have had hardships that I cannot fathom and not only survived but were so proud of the way they came together are cared for each other. No one has it easy...we are human and we are messy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Being a human is difficult. Raising kids is hard too...but all of it is amazing and wonderful along with difficult. Just take my advice and don't worry. Life is short and it is imperative that you live a life that you want to live. I have had the honor to care for folks whose lives were cut short by disease and tried to make the last days as and peaceful and comfortable as I could. Life is about loving the time you have with the people you love. For me, it is about sitting at the kitchen table and telling the stories, hearing how my children had fallen in love, and how they have navigated a difficult time in their lives...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Remember, the sun comes up tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and I love you all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-6266172265743478082017-05-05T19:52:00.000-07:002017-05-05T19:52:03.658-07:00Writer's block #millenialsareawesome<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a long time since I have time to sit and write. Many things have changed in my life and to juggle all of that while taking care of the dying...almost impossible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dramatic huh? Well, you know me, I have a flare for the drama. Anyway, last March, about 40 days ago, my daughter was sent home from Peru due to flooding. The Peace Corps decided that it was too dangerous for the volunteers to be there and put them on planes and sent them home. As soon as she hit the ground in the US, it was more than obvious that my life was going to change for a month or two. Jim and I had become pretty good at empty nesting, sometimes not making dinner or speaking to each other in the evenings after a crazy day at work. We just sat together and finished our day however we felt fit and were okay with that. Now we had a young adult at home that is our child. We turned back into Mom and Dad. I look back now and wonder where I got the energy to work, be the volunteer that I was and played the role of mom...with dinner on the table every night, homework done, cup cakes baked as needed, and didn't pull my hair out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, on Sunday morning, she is leaving. When I think of it, it brings tears to my eyes. I am not sure why because it is time. This kid is 25. She is in love and she knows everything. She thinks different than me and she tells me the differences. I shudder sometimes at how offended she becomes when I say things, but when I sit back and look at how the world has changed, I get it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She is her own person. She is an engineer and commands a much larger salary than I every could with my job. She is smart...can speak Spanish fluently, can pick up a book and read directions to anything and do it. While she was home, she crocheted me a blanket, painted two pictures, hosted a Peruvian night with authentic food, and spoke twice at the high school and once at church about her life in the Peace Corps. Even after all of that, she went crazy at home not having much to do, so she deep cleaned my house, ran with the dogs, and helped her father with Spanish. She organized my pantry, watched movies with me and hugged me more than I feel comfortable with. Yes, she is so different from me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I cannot believe that 25 years have gone by since she was born. I learned so much from her and am still doing it. I remember when we brought her home from the hospital and I was so in awe of that little bundle that was dependent on me for everything. Now, when I walked in the door these last 40 days, dinner was made and she took care of me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She would notice how stressed I was with work and urge me to walk the dogs with her. We would walk to the mailbox and talk about everything...and I could feel my tense muscles relax as we solved the world's problems. When I had questions about how to lead or how to handle certain issues, her experience of being a female in a man's world helped me understand what I needed to do to move forward. You know the saying that 'Youth is wasted on the young"? Well I used to agree until now. This kid is something...wise beyond her years and energetic and willing to take the chances that we old folks find crazy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As you know if you read this blog, I work with the dying. I sit beside people every day that are wondering if it is their last. I have the honor to listen to them talk...and hear the regrets. So many of us put things off so we can make more money to do those things we really want to do. Then, we don't do them because we are too old, too tired, or get a diagnosis that makes us stay in, stay home, or crawl under a rock.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe these millennials have it right. Work less, make money for the time you are expected to and not a minute more. Make memories, see the world, get to know the people in it and don't compare or make judgments because someone is or thinks different than you. Love people, hug them longer and while you know you will see them again, will you? Make sure you do it right the first time and don't wait until everything is perfect. Why...because life is never perfect. Life is life...so messy, imperfect, and amazing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those are the things that shook my writer's block. Those are the things in the last 40 days that I have learned from my Christie.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am so happy she came home and now so happy for her to go back to her love and her family in Peru. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My hope is that all her dreams come true. But, we know how that goes in this life of ours...so I say, traveling mercies, kid, love the journey, God is with you and come home safe and sound.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Remember, your loved no matter what!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-20507757580946210092017-03-25T18:01:00.001-07:002017-03-25T18:01:56.569-07:00No regrets!!!<span style="font-size: large;">It's been quite awhile since I sat at my computer, candle lit, glass of pink wine poured and wrote. Finally, I am here to say a few things...</span><div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The last four months have been a whirlwind. Health issues, visits to Peru, Holidays, a visit to Phoenix for spring training and trying live my purpose has kept me overly busy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My house is quiet tonight and I want to share a few thoughts about what has been rattling around in my brain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Time is flying don't you think? My kids are young adults, my husband is going to be 56 years old...looking hard at 60, and my brother in law is going to be 70. Where did the time go? It went every day in the minutes and hours that I tried to get caught up. Caught up for what? To relax and sit around and admire my stuff?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To compare what I have to the next person? I say no but what the heck is going on?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If I am brutally honest...probably. I have come to learn that I am only good at living in the moment when I am sitting by a bedside with a person who's time is limited. Then, I can sit and look at them and talk about whatever they want to and time goes by and I am in the moment. Otherwise, I am driving in my car thinking about all the laundry that is sitting on the laundry room floor that needs to be put in the washer, or the cat litter box that needs to be scooped, the charting that is not completed or getting to the gym because I am too fat!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am humbled because, so many times, I am introduced to family members that have come from points unknown because a person is dying. The person is not responding to voice or touch, but lying there breathing and very comfortable. I tell the family that they can still hear what they are saying and that they need to say everything they ever wanted to because this is it. Then, in a quiet voice, they tell me they were going to come last year but things got really busy and the time got away from them and they really wished they came when the patient was going through treatment to let them know what they meant to them. I always tear up and tell them it's okay and that at least they are here now and to tell them everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see, we all get busy. We need the next thing or our kids need the next thing. Oh, and then there are college funds for the best college there is. I learned my lesson, I thought, with my mother as she went through chemo and then died. I showed up long enough to take her home and let her die in the living room. Regrets and wishes I could have gotten a do over...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then, after my father had a massive heart attack and had no heart function, you would have thought it was pulling teeth to visit him. Yeah, he was hard to get along with because he felt lousy and knew he was dying but you know, I had little kids and they were so smart in elementary school that they could't miss. Regrets...you betcha!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now after those two episodes when I shoulda, coulda, woulda...I try to live my life without regrets when it comes to those I love. But, we are human and we are not perfect so we make mistakes. It is also so much easier to think people are going to live longer than they do. It helps us live with the fact that we love someone so much and it will hurt when they are gone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, we don't know what is going to happen tomorrow even though we plan it out. Tomorrow is not guarenteed, never has been really. The one who leaves this earth or has the funny pain that takes us after awhile may be us. Or it may be someone that you meant to call or meant to stop by but never got around to it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have decided that I want to live with no regrets. I want to make sure that the people that mean something to me know it. I want to spend time with my husband, my kids and the family that want to spend time with me. I don't want to show up to sit at a bedside and watch someone breathe for the last time....I want sit with them with a glass of pink wine and laugh about all the good memories that were made in the time that I was living in the moment with them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because, as my sister says "there aren't too many shopping days until Christmas" and what she means is...life is too damn hard and short, so we need to forgive and forget, visit often, and remember the good times. There will be bad times and suffering and before you know it, you will be old and have regrets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, live each day as if you don't have another one and love the people you love and maybe some you don't!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span></div>
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Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-41489245795355234002017-02-12T18:14:00.000-08:002017-02-12T18:14:13.684-08:00The new law....<span style="font-size: large;">I have written about this before, the " Medical Aid-in-dying" law but I think it is worth having a perspective from someone who works every day with the "dying". Also, as this idea has become a Colorado law it is on the mind of everyone who cares for dying folks. I must say the opinion I voice is my own.....from my years of taking care of the dying...and while you may agree or disagree, here is some food for thought...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I work with the dying almost every day. I want to state the obvious...being declared someone who is dying, and who has 6 months or less even if that is not how it goes, is difficult. Do you see the understatement of that sentence? Have you been a part of a person's life that received that edict? What was it like? Did you sit there in disbelief with the person or did you just shut down? Did you want to cry or wake up from that terrible dream? Were you or are you that person?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have been there with a person who was told they were dying. The person was in my family and it wasn't the "6 months to a year talk", it was the old, "days to weeks" talk. It was my worst nightmare and then to tell him over and over "yes" when he asked if the doctor just told him he was really going to die. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Have you been privileged to be with a person that was hearing that about themselves or a loved one? </span><span style="font-size: large;">Count yourself lucky if you haven't had to live through that...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In my family, it was exactly that...days to a week. He was home just a week and he died. The new law would not have applied to him even if he wanted to take the pills. He couldn't have given them to himself and that is part of this law. You have to be able to administer them to yourself. Research says that many people get the pills and don't take them. The pills are wasted and the patient experiences a "normal" dying process.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think about these folks I care for all the time. I have seen patients that have been able to continue as usual knowing they were in their last days and I have had folks that cannot. Some fall into a deep depression and living with the knowing is much harder than dying. Some do very well and the only fear is the end and how it will go... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Dying people want control. They have ridden the roller coaster of treatment, feeling ill from it, questioning if it is helping or hurting them more...then worrying about every ache and pain and wondering if it's the cancer. Many of the patients I care for in hospice are ready to get off the roller coaster. They are ready to be in control of what they can. They understand they have a terminal diagnosis. They know they are going to die and all they really want is some control or semblance of control of the suffering they perceive at the end. Most folks come to terms with leaving this earth, they just don't want to suffer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sadly, I have been part of suffering at the end of life. The suffering can come from pain, inability to breathe easy, inability to care for oneself, or the disbelief that they are leaving and cannot do anything about it. It can come from leaving too early...little kids that they won't be able to see grow up, or a grandchild in the womb of a child of their own that they will not meet. I have sat with these people, tried to plan for it, explained the medications to use, and prayed. Sometimes there is no solution for them but leaving this earth. The pain is too great. I believe that people experience suffering in different ways and having a few pills on the beside table to put an end to it gives a person a sense of control to gauge when enough is enough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't get me wrong, I am a advocate for hospice care. I have experienced it with my family members and have cared for many a dying person. I have watched love permeate every nook and cranny of a house while the adult children loved their parents into heaven. I have seen husbands care for their elderly wives with such tenderness that I could not speak. I have seen wives climb into bed to hold their husband for their last earthly breath and not be able to let go once they are gone. That time at home near the end is holy and profound. If hospice care is nothing, it is genuine, authentic love in action. It is also soul shaking and one of the most difficult times that this life gives. I can say that it is always an honor and a privilege to help people at such a difficult, intimate time. Most families are so comforted by the love they gave and received during those difficult times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are also times when a disease process has been lengthy and the dying process is tearing a family apart. The patient is ready, he or she is done, and wants to go. They have thought deeply and profoundly about all the ramifications of leaving in this way and have made the choice. They have discussed it with their family and have made the decision to get the medication. I am sure it would not be easy to do or to decide to do. Deciding to stop treatment and receive comfort care is not easy and it takes courage. Think about the courage it will take for the person to swallow the pills that will permanently close their eyes...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some people who are against this measure say that it is "playing God" and we are not supposed to do that. I think it is how you look at all of these things...some folks say that stopping treatment for cancer when all of the treatment has stopped working is "playing God."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully, I will not be making the decision for the folks I care for. They will make it and I will honor the decision and give them all the support and the knowledge I have to help relieve their suffering. I will sit beside the bed and hold their hand and listen, and I will not judge. I will help love them out of this world, and support their family, whatever they may decide.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And, I am more than happy to sit with God when it is my time and explain why I elected to support folks that were suffering and want to use the law instead of talk them out of it. I will take responsibilities for my "sins" and hope for the best.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just think about it...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk soon, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-59719680088252662692016-09-25T20:19:00.002-07:002016-09-25T20:19:44.172-07:00Life lessons...<span style="font-size: large;">I admitted him almost a year ago. He was admitted into hospice because he didn't want to go to the hospital and something was going on that wasn't good. The hospital didn't agree with him and every time he went in, he became confused and needed medications that didn't make him less confused. He just wanted to stay home and let the chips fall where they may...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I knew it was going to be a long time before he left us and let his wife know. This may be a long haul, I said, and as he gets sicker, things get harder. She thought she understood but appreciated the information and wanted to do the best she could. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We made it through two more birthdays and two more anniversaries...the 63rd and 64th. It was clear last week that we had finally come to the crossroads of his life. He was fading...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Throughout the last year, she would sit by his bedside and read to him or watch TV or a movie. She would tuck him in at night and then sleep with an ear open to hear him "sing-song" her name. The calling out singing her name came during the last few months when he really wanted her close...wanted to hear her voice and have her in the room.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, when I showed up, he would call out for her and she would say, "he has been doing this all day and then when I go to him, he doesn't need anything." I always thought to myself...he loves her so much after all of these years and just having her close by gives him comfort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I would visit twice a week and fell in love these two people. We became attached and I was invited for multiple dinners, cups of coffee and birthdays and anniversaries. If I said no, on my next visit would be the cake saved for me. I know the boundaries became blurred but I was getting so much more from knowing and caring for them than I could give and isn't that what life is about?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Most visits, we talked about how thankful we were that he didn't have much pain and how sometimes he wouldn't sleep...how he called for her in the night. I told her I thought he just wanted her close because she was his comfort. I would often marvel that they were married for 60 + years and ask her all the secrets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As the year went on, my entrance into the house became predictable. I would call out my standard, "hello, it's Terry the nurse" and walk into his room, gently say hello and kiss him on the forehead. We would talk of what was new, if he was in pain and what his "girl" was doing. One of the last times I saw him, I told him he looked "extra handsome" and he told me that he couldn't help it. I agreed with him...he couldn't help it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Their 64th wedding anniversary passed a few weeks ago. I arrived to see him all dressed, with his hair slicked back and his "getting out of bed" clothes on. I asked his wife what was up and she told me it was their 64th anniversary and they had friends coming over to have lunch. I walked in singing, "Happy anniversary, baby" and he smiled. While I was asking him the usual questions, she gently rubbed his forehead and bent down and gave him a kiss. Then she jokingly asked him how many years they were married. It took a long time for him to answer and then he said, "well...64." I was amazed and she beamed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He dozed off after a while and I went to the kitchen table and she offered me coffee and asked me if I was in a rush. I decided I wasn't and out came the wedding album. I sat and looked at page after page of these two young and beautiful kids that started a life 64 years before. She told me the stories of their courtship and the ups and downs and how they ended up here. She had a sparkle in her eye that made her look like that girl in the picture again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Early last week, as I said, he began to sleep much more and was losing his awareness. The time, I tell families, " that they have one foot on earth and the other in heaven" and the end is getting closer. These times are when, as a nurse, I visit every day to make sure the family feels supported and strong as they watch their loved one fade. It is a holy and tender time for the family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Wednesday, it was apparent. He was quiet and comfortable but not responding. His wife and I sat at the table with our coffee and talked. We reviewed the plan and all the "nursey" things that I have to do to make sure things go smoothly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We sat quietly for a few minutes and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I began to tell her how honored I was to stand beside her as she took such good care of her husband. I was thinking about how much I learned from her over this year about what an enduring love looks like and how to keep going when you're tired. I watched her keep her grown family involved with letters and cards and visits and care for them too. She was an amazing example of how to care for a loved one for the long haul. She handed me a tissue and then took one for herself. She thanked me for helping her think that she could care for him at home even when she was tired. She thanked me for continuing to show up and when he didn't need care...spend time with her. By the end of the visit, we were both feeling so lucky in this difficult and predictable time of life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He died this weekend after "a long illness." When I left late Friday afternoon, I told her it was going to be this weekend. She sat close, held his hand and read to him. She said she talked to him and thanked him for all the years and life they lived together. She told him she wouldn't have picked anyone else. Finally, as she sat, she said she noticed that his breathing had changed and wondered what was going on. Then, she said, it was so quiet and he just didn't take another breath. She watched him for a long time after to make sure what she thought was right and then thanked God that she had the privilege of being there and holding him close up until his last breath.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I arrived in the morning to coffee and muffins and breakfast for me. She was so thankful for his quiet and peaceful passing as well as the intimacy of being with him alone like the beginning of their 64 years together. It was heartbreaking and joyful at the same time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I walked into the room and he was gone. I placed my stethoscope on his chest, kissed his forehead, like I always did, and thanked him for letting me be a part his life. I made the phone calls and sat with his wife. I sat quietly while the world and her friends got news of his passing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I watched her tell the story with peace and comfort as she knew she did the very best for this man that she could. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I reflected over our time together this last year and hoped that I would to be able to do the same thing for my husband should I be in the same position. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">64 years of marriage...of love. From the stories of their life together, it was not an easy love all the time...but it was an enduring love that lasted through it all...and I got to learn and watch and that in the last year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So again, I am thankful to have been a part of an amazing journey of what is good, right and holy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<br />Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-51496930303420997092016-08-21T18:10:00.000-07:002016-08-21T18:10:58.868-07:00Time...<span style="font-size: large;">I have been thinking about time, that we have 1440 minutes in the day but there are people who seem to have less time than others. There is no such thing as less time than others in a day...although when I was raising kids, I felt like I had less than other folks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So now, I think about time in a life. I had less time with my mother and less time with my father in this life. My sister had less time with her son and less time with her husband than she ever wanted. So then, if you look time from that standpoint, some people have more time than others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Whats the rub? Well, we don't know who will have more and who will have less. We just don't know who will leave earth too soon or who will leave earth well after they were ready to leave. That's the rub.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That brings me to those who kinda know that time is running out. I mean, in my brain, I think my time is running out because I am 52 and the years ahead are not guaranteed. I think about when I was younger and thought that I had so many years ahead to do the things I wanted to do that I felt like it was okay to put it off. But now, at 52....thinking about my mother leaving at 72 and my brother in law at 59...well then, time is becoming more precious.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I see it everyday in a different way. I see my patients who have that dreaded diagnosis and have decided they are done with treatment or they have been told that there is no other treatment to have. They have been given the ticking clock of life and they know time is running out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I care for two patient's that are very frank about what is going on. Most visits, they tell me they are dying and just don't want to suffer. I had the honor of sitting with one of my patient's for a couple of hours the other day. Her husband needed to go to town but would not leave her alone. I looked at my schedule and decided it would be fine to sit on her couch and visit for an extended time...to understand her better and to know how else I can help this family. At first, we were quiet and watched the Olympics but then she started to talk. "I know I'm dying, and I'm not afraid, really...." she said. I just sat and waited..." I just don't want to suffer, is all. I have pain now and it is okay but I just don't want to suffer." After waiting what felt like 5 minutes, I asked her what suffering looked like to her...and she slowly answered. " I don't want to be in bed awake with pain and trouble breathing...If I have to be in bed full time, I want to sleep and be comfortable." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I agreed and told her that makes total sense to me. Then I told her how I have witnessed death without suffering and told her exactly how we would keep her comfortable and how we would support her husband. We finished our conversation and turned toward the Olympics again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Her husband called 10 times (no lie) to check on her. He is her caregiver, her one and only and he will be beside her to the end. He has put off all of his hopes and dreams, jobs and plans and will stay by her side. When she got her diagnosis, they made the plan and have stuck with it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are other situations that aren't so cut and dry. Time is used up with work, caring for families, and doing the things they need to get done. Or, the dying person feels like a burden and doesn't communicate how things are going. I have been a spectator in situations like that too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jim tells me I have a warped perspective on life and living. I look at death and think that for whomever is dying...it is "showtime" for the family. This is it, no do-overs, no way to wish things were different and time is going to move forward and your mother is going to decline and die whether you are with her or finishing the big project on your job. I remember telling my patient one day last month as she said told me her daughter just got this job that she really wanted and could not come to care for her, " She is going to get tons of jobs, she's young but she only has one mother...."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Listen, I made a ton of mistakes in that area. I was too busy while my mother went to chemo and radiation for lung cancer. I wasn't there...I didn't rub her back while she was vomiting and I didn't get the chance to take her to lunch when she felt good. I was there when she was dying in the living room, fairly unresponsive but comfortable. But I wasn't there...I regret that so much you have no idea. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I could claim that I had two little kids and a job, that they probably wouldn't give me off, that the kids would have been pulled out of preschool, that we didn't have the money...I could claim all of that because it was true. But you know what, after almost 20 years, I wish I was there. I do. I wish I would have loaded up Christie and Mac and took them to Florida and sat on the couch and listened to her complain. I wish I would have had her yell at my kids because that's what she did. But again, as my kids used to say, "wishes are life what ifs and they don't happen." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So you can't get back that time. I can't and you can't. But what we can do is look forward knowing that we can use the time we have better. Learn from our mistakes and make sure that if you claim that something means a lot to you...you are spending your precious time on that...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't have the sense when I was 32 to know that I would be without both parents at 41 years old...that my kids would be without grandparents. I do have the sense now to gently help my patients and families understand how lucky they have to be here together at advanced ages, and what an honor it is to be there for your parents when it is there time. I tell them what an example of love and devotion it is for their kids to watch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We all get old, we all die...we all get 1440 minutes in the day. Now, it is up to us to decide what is important and spend as much time on that because when all is said and done, we don't get do overs and we can wish things were different but often that is not helpful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Think back to your kids and how they were little and how for most of us, they are big. That is what is happening to our parents and to us and when it is my time...I can only hope my kids are hanging out by my hospital bed telling stories of the good family times while my morphine keeps me quiet and comfortable. That is my wish...but I have time to at least do that for others right now with my time!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-80212729535085700462016-08-15T20:54:00.000-07:002016-08-15T20:54:46.980-07:00The life of a Hospice Nurse...<span style="font-size: large;">I sat in her living room and we talked. She had just woken up from a nap. The medication for pain makes her sleepy at times. I asked her if she still had pain and she said she did not. I looked around the living room and took stock of the furniture...a floral covered couch, some older chairs and end tables and coffee tables from the 70's. It reminded me of my mother and what our living room looked like.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I gazed at this woman who I have fallen in love with. She is old and dying but at the same time, she is everything I want to be when I get old. She fiercely loves her children and loved her husband before he passed away. She is smart and worldly and kind...so kind. She is a quick wit and she is very compassionate and most of all, understanding. That is just the beginning of this woman that I have the honor of caring for as she leaves this world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We talked about life and kids and getting ready. She gently rubbed her cheek and talked about how hard it was on her to watch her children watch her decline... and how she wanted to spare them of that. We talked of how hard life is and how blessed she has been to have the time she has had. But, we agreed, to stay and worry about pain and fatigue and to feel like you are not living this life...is no life at all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We cried...because it is time to leave but it doesn't make leaving any easier. Then we talked about how it does. How in many ways she is ready to go...but in other ways she is not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I left the house thinking about how lucky I am to be with her at this time and how I can make sure she is taken care of beautifully....as if she was my mother...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I got in my car, took a deep breath and went to the next house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That is the job of a Hospice nurse....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am so lucky to be able to be with this amazing woman at this time in her life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<br />Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-31917149378059962472016-06-26T07:48:00.000-07:002016-06-26T07:48:50.263-07:00A week or two in the life...<span style="font-size: large;">It' been an interesting last two weeks in this life. If you have a minute, I'd like to tell you about it...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last week, we had the privilege to drive to Mexico and build a house. I know you've heard this story before but this one is worth hearing. Another perspective on life...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This trip was hot...probably 105 degrees daily and the sweat from manual labor made me a little gritchy. As the week went on and the house was coming together, I noticed that the father of the family, while with us, wasn't helping. That is an odd occurrence. When we start building in Mexico, there is no shortage of help from the males in the family...they are helping and having a part in making the house "their" home. This father was always helpful but for the most part, sat in the shade and watched.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because I have been on a number of builds, I started to wonder if there was something going on. The last day, after an amazing lunch they made for us served sitting under pop up tents with cold coca-cola with ice, I got my answer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jim, my husband, after lunch wandered over to the family and sat down. In his best Spanglish, he began to talk to the family and I noticed they were laughing and very comfortable. I pulled up a chair and joined them and began to try to communicate. Jim walked away and I was left to sit with them. The father, Jose', had lived in the US and could speak some english and I could fake a little spanish so we were golden. After spending a few minutes making small talk, Olivia, Jose's wife, began to talk to Jose'. Best I could understand, she asked him to tell me why he was so thankful for a new home. Finally, he looked at her and smiled and began to talk to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He spoke English very slowly and at first, I thought it was because he was really struggling with the language. As I looked closer, he was choking back tears. Around Christmas, he wasn't feeling well and went to the emergency room. After some rudimentary tests, they told him to go home and get his affairs together because he was going to die. He was diagnosed with Lymphoma and he had a week to months. All he could think about was taking care of his family and that included somewhere for them to live. At that time, and still today, they were living with his brother and his family in a small place. While thankful for housing, it was still many family members in a really small place that wasn't his own. As he thought about getting his affairs in order, he wanted to be able to leave them with a roof over their heads.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then, upon hearing of his illness, a friend of the family suggested that they apply for a house through Casas por Cristo. They applied and usually it takes a year to two to be approved for a home. This family waited about 6 months and a house was to be built. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now this "home" that I refer to is small. It is about 300sq feet, has a door with a lock, three windows, three light sockets, a concrete floor. It translates into two bedrooms and a larger room to be whatever the family wants it to be. There is no bathroom or kitchen or plumbing for that matter. You get the picture, nothing fancy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But to a family that has lived in places that are made of wood pallets and cardboard and some plastic to try to keep out rain...this is a palace. And for a man who is looking at the end of his life with a wife and two teenagers with nowhere to live...this is a mansion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How would you feel if you were in need and a group of 15 whom you've never met showed up to help? And would you be able to sit and watch these strangers with sweat dripping off of them everywhere build you a home and ask for nothing in return? Could you just be thankful? I am not sure I could but I hope that if I am ever in those shoes, I could accept the gift and be thankful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before we say goodbye, we dedicate the house to the family and we offer prayers and good wishes for them in their new home. We pass the keys and hold them in our hands for a bright future. Then after that, it's the family's turn. As we stood, the story came out and we all were so thankful that we could help this family. Needless to say, there wasn't a dry eye...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We drove 14 hours home on Saturday and it was difficult. If you wanna know the truth, I hate the drive and I complained the whole time. Actually, early in the build, I was named the "designated complainer" because I never shut my mouth!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Monday was a new day and it was time to get back to work. Some of my patients had some issues while I was gone and I was happy to come back to the cool mountains and deal with them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have a couple that have been married for 65 years and celebrated while I was gone. They had a party and all the family showed. It was a joyous time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, after a big holiday or celebration, folks who are dying decide it is okay to go and begin to decline. This is what happened with this couple. In the mean time, the husband was having some more issues with his health and staying on his feet. He was starting to fall and needs to go to rehab. The wheels were put in motion for that to happen and Tuesday, it was going to be the conversation of the day...sending him to rehab for a tune up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a beautiful day on Tuesday and we just had a hospital bed delivered to his wife. She was quiet and comfortable and obviously declining. He was sitting on the couch with his coffee reading a book. It was very peaceful and honestly, lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My job was to convince him that he needed to go to rehab and needed to get stronger and safer at home. I sat next to him and held his hand and said nothing. Frankly, I didn't know what to say and I thought I knew what he was going to say...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, I started the conversation asking him how he felt and letting him know that we were all worried about him. He looked me straight in the eye and asked me how his girl was doing and if this was "it". I gently told him that I think her time is coming and it will be soon but not today. I told him we were going to keep her very comfortable and that she would have no pain or anxiety as she slept. He teared up and choked out a sob...then told me he wasn't going to rehab right now. He had been with her 65 years and rehab could wait while he saw his girl off this earth. Then, he got quiet and stroked my arm thanking me for understanding. Needless to say, I teared up and accepted the thanks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, almost a week after we watched her begin her decline, she peacefully left this earth in the bed in the sunny living room surrounded by her husband of 65 years and her daughter. She was quiet and comfortable and right where she needed to be and just how it needed to be. When I arrived to take care of them, I sat with the husband and told him what a great job he did caring for her until the end. He teared up again and choked back a sob and struggled to say, "I hope so...." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We all make decisions in life and after they are made, we hope they are the right ones. Sometimes we never know they are the right ones until years later and sometimes we know right away. We have to just decide and then go with the flow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One decision that I know is right 100% of the time is to love and serve others. I know it's right because I never feel such peace in my heart as when I am in the middle of things like that. Does that mean you have to drive 14 hours in the car and then endure the heat and try to speak spanish? Nope...it means, look at your life and when you see a gap somewhere, fill it. If it is stuffing envelopes for a cause you think alot of...do it. If you grown child needs your help with your grandkids....do it. Whatever you do is good, right and holy if it is out of a giving and loving heart...and I made the rule that you can even complain!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As we watch our world crumbling and people become more afraid of each other...the only thing that we can do that is easy...is to love and serve.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-87342561083008556692016-06-05T08:00:00.000-07:002016-06-05T08:00:35.245-07:00Life's work...<span style="font-size: large;">Thursday night as I watched a bunch of overpaid boys try to hit a baseball in front of a crowd of 32,000 people, I looked down at my phone to see a familiar phone number. It was the number of the home that I had been calling frequently to check on as the person was dying. I quickly ran up the stadium stairs and dialed the number knowing what the voice on the other end would say. "He's gone..." which is what I expected...what we all expected. In fact, it was what the family and I said we wanted over and over. "He was so peaceful and we were all with him and we cannot thank you enough for all you did." He was gone and all that was left to do were the phone calls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went by the house the next day to say hello and good bye. They were sad and relieved and so proud of how they came together and cared for their dad, husband and brother when they would rather be doing anything else. I reminded them of what an honor it was to help them do that and the comfort as time goes on will be immeasurable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">End of life...dying...leaving this world...whatever we want to refer to it as, is something that we think will happen someday but never think that "someday" will come. Until it does. Until you have a funky pain that you can't ignore anymore and go to the doctor. Then all the things you thought about dying change when it is you or someone close to you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The amazing thing about getting a diagnosis that isn't good, is you see where the "rubber meets the road" with the people you love. I have the opportunity to see it every day and am humbled. Even the most fragmented families come together to help a person they love move on. They break down, they complain, they yell and scream at each other, but when the person is on the way out, they come together, sit by the bed and love each other. Every time...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This death was a relief for the family in so many ways. I always say to the family when they are ready to hear it...."you die the way you lived." What that looks like is sometimes difficult for families. If you were a difficult person in life, you are going to be a difficult person in death. If you worked every day and never stopped and were strong as an ox, you will die that way...not easily, not able to relax and get comfortable without work. Then the point comes when they rest and go on into the night after they are done with the hard work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This gentleman from last week was like that. He was a handsome man, unbelievably hard worker and desperately sad that he was leaving this world. The cancer cells grew and took parts of him, but it did not take him. When I met him three months ago, he was sad...about being diagnosed, about having to leave this earth and about not being able to finish all the work he had planned. He ran from the moment his pain was under control until the moment he decided to lay down. Then, he worked in his head for the time it took to get everything in order before he could leave. His family stood by telling him they were ready, that they would take care of everything...and still, he needed to do the work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, last week, the work was done. The family said they could see that he was finally done working and went to sit with him. They said they didn't say much as they had already said it all when a tear escaped out of his eye and he peacefully drew his last breath. He had done it all...the work of living and the work of dying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have heard the saying, " If you love what you do, you don't work a day in your life" and I believe for this man...that saying was true. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have been spending much time thinking about my work. I came to the conclusion last week that I don't think of it as work. I think of it as what I am "supposed" to do. That it is my ministry, my calling that I was led to by the hand of God. I know it sounds crazy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember my mother dying in the living room in a hospital bed in Florida those 20 years ago. I remember sitting by her watching her breath quietly all day. She was done and she had done all of her work. There wasn't agitation or pain, just quiet peace as she breathed in and out. We did the day...the surreal feeling you have when you are in the middle of something that you cannot control and wish was not happening. We ate, we drank, we sat and watched TV and talked to her...almost like nothing was going on but we were about to watch our mother leave this earth. I was 31 years old with a 3 and 1 year old. Just starting out on some of my life's work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally the day was over and we all went to bed, except for my sister, Chris...the oldest one. She decided she would sit with my mother for a few more hours before she called it a night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A few hours later, my sister opened the door to the room I was sleeping in to tell me she thought my mother was gone and could I come check her. I walked over to the bed in the living room and confirmed my sister's diagnosis. My mother was gone... into the night when my sister dozed off to the peacefully rhythmic breathing while she held her hand. Her work was done and she was gone...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We did what families do when a loved one passes away at home...we called the doctor and we called the mortuary. They picked her up as the sun was coming up in Shady Hills, Florida. I remember calling Jim after that and waking him up to tell him I no longer had a mother on earth. I was sad, relieved and thinking it wasn't true...but it was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember as I stood at the head of her hospital bed in the living room, I looked into the kitchen, and around the room and saw my siblings. My brother was reading the paper in his lazy boy, my sister was going in and out of the kitchen doing her "work", and my father was standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on my mother's blanketed feet saying nothing. I remember the overwhelming feeling of sadness mixed with comfort and then I remember hearing a small voice in my head... "You oughta be doing this for people, it's nice to be home." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I returned to Swedish and continued to work in the hospital all the while thinking of that small voice. Then, I decided it was time to try hospice. It was the right choice. I ran away once and tried other nursing again but always feel the pull of my ministry and feel incomplete when I am not caring for the living and the dying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This comes at a time when my children are trying to figure out their life's work. My daughter, an engineer, is in Peru with the Peace Corp trying to understand hers. I believe she will find what she is looking for. My middle son is unemployed and will begin the search of what he wants to do while he tries to understand his life's work. It's a difficult task.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, my guess is, that when you have found your life's work, it isn't always perfect or easy but it is right. It's what we know in our heart is right even when it feels so hard...and it is the joy our hearts desire when it is right. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The question is then, "what is our life's work and does that work change?" For me, "am I to be a nurse for another 15 years or do I do something else? Is it normal to be so "soul" tired at 52?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As my children begin their journey to figure out their life's work, I find myself wondering about mine...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Any advice, insight and answers are welcome...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<br />Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-73969677435179795212016-05-28T20:39:00.002-07:002016-05-28T20:42:58.736-07:00The Seasons of Life...<span style="font-size: large;">I spent the day digging in the dirt. My flower beds were covered in mulch that Jim had ground up after cutting down trees and placed over the flower beds to keep them warm through the long winter.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My favorite two beds are on my patio and they get tons of sun. I had that patio done after my father passed away with the money he left us...so it is a place I love to go and to have people over and to have my flowers blooming.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I dug the mulch out, I could see the little sprouts of the daisies and columbines and other things I planted but can't remember. All I could do is rejoice that they are coming back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It reminded me of the seasons of life...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today marks the official beginning of "empty nesting" for Jim and I. It's a long story with returning children and invited guests...but now, after Howie graduated in 2015 from high school, Jim and I are alone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While I dug in the dirt, I thought of that...being alone...being done. Now I know, most folks reading this will assure me that they will come back and probably live in my basement, to which I will be sorry. I had one bounce back and after the shock of it all, I enjoyed it alot!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, I digress. I am thinking about the ends and beginnings...seasons of life. As you all know, I care for the dying and see the seasons of life and end of life on a daily basis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The last few weeks have been a microcosm of life and death...sadness and celebration that is life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two Saturdays ago, I went to a funeral. It wasn't the death of a patient of mine but of a dear friend. It was the death of Uncle John. Jim had a dear friend that passed away, after what they think was a diabetic problem. He was 55 years old and one of Jim's greatest friends. He was the guy that helped Jim when his mother passed away. After his mother's funeral, Jim was sad, lost and needed a friend...and the phone rang and it was Uncle John. He was at our wedding, around for our kids and just a crazy, wonderful Uncle figure to our kids. I remember Christie playing with his hair, sitting on his lap, because he had grown a pony tail when she was 3. He was a wonderful friend and uncle and now he is gone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After the funeral, I drove to the airport to fly to Spokane to attend a wedding of a daughter of a dear friend. I sat on the plane and thought about what a mess life is. How one minute you're so sad you can't see straight and then next, you can be on top of the world with happiness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The wedding was beautiful and the bride and groom were so obviously in love and I prayed that when the ups and downs of life come...they stay that way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I flew home Monday morning to a full schedule and work to be done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have quite a few patients that are living well knowing that they are dying. I stand in awe of them and the strength and love they give to their family while they are in this place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Fridays are my days to see all of my hospice patients or as my husband says, "tuck them in" for the weekend. Yesterday was no different.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I went from house to house, I felt confident that I was doing all I could do to make them comfortable and ready to enjoy the time with family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have one patient that is close. She is not here on earth but is not gone either. I always tell families that the patient is doing the work and when it is time, they will go. I compare dying to birthing and how there is work to be done by a body to bring a life into this world and when someone is dying, there is work to be done to leave.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I walked in and the house was quiet. This family has done everything right and cared for this patient well. She is just not done with her work and so she is still here. She isn't responsive but she is comfortable and quiet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I bent down to ask her the questions and she didn't respond. I took her vital signs and touched her hands and feet and they were warm. Then, out of nowhere, I asked the family if I could give her a bath. They responded that she had one yesterday but if I wanted to, it was okay with them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I gathered all the things for a bed bath, making sure that the water was nice and warm and the soap smelled good. I began with her face and gently washed around her eyes and mouth with care. I thought about all the kisses that were given with that mouth and how there may be more before she is gone. I moved slowly to her arms and legs and </span><span style="font-size: large;"> I washed and dried every finger on her hands, knowing her family will be sitting with her holding that hand until the end.. Then I moved to her </span><span style="font-size: large;"> body, washing and then drying her gently all the while telling her that she was doing a wonderful job doing her work to leave this earth. Then I rolled her over and washed her back, dried it and applied a lovely smelling lotion. I thought about how long she has been lying there doing her work and how it must feel great to have her back rubbed. While she was on her side, I asked the family for clean sheets. I took the old sheets off and put cool, clean sheets on the bed. I rolled her over, dressed her, brushed her teeth and rinsed with mouthwash and put new pillow cases on the pillows. I took the covers, and pulled them up over her chest, held her hand and told her she was ready now. I watched as her face relaxed and she fell quietly back to sleep and hopefully to a place of deep comfort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I sat on the couch and talked to the family. I reviewed the plan of care, encouraged them and told them she would leave when it was her time and I couldn't tell them when. I just told them it would be over soon and that they were doing an amazing job.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I got in my car and backed out of the driveway. It was around 4:00 on Friday and she really didn't need a bath. But, I needed to give her one...I needed to provide more comfort for her and in turn for myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see, this job is hard and all the nurses have days when they think they can't do one more thing or their heart will break. I think the last few weeks were like that for me. Between awesome beginnings for my kids that took them to faraway places, the unexpected death of a wonderful friend, patients that I have fallen in love with that struggle with life and death and the changes of growing older, I needed to offer comfort and enjoy the comfort I gave. It was a holy time for me and for that I am thankful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why am I telling you about a bed bath that I gave a patient at the end of the day on Friday? Because most of the time, the little things are so much more than that. Because time goes by and I wish I would have spent more time doing things like that. Because 27 years of marriage and raising kids and making a life has gone by in the blink of an eye. Because you get a phone call of Friday night that makes you wish you would have called and checked in, or stopped by or treasured the last time because it was the last time but you didn't know it. That's why...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Life is short and it is long...it is amazing and amazingly difficult and the little things matter. You know why? Because the little things are the big things...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-19411547748990363622016-05-09T20:13:00.000-07:002016-05-10T08:38:43.776-07:00"Because I'm the Motha" (in a NY accent)<span style="font-size: large;">In my house, we tend to repeat things well beyond the time it is useful. The problem is, we laugh about those repeated things again and again, so they become funny. Two out of three of my children appreciate that and one does not. He did leave for college and has a new appreciation for home and and has been mocking my NY accent, so he is coming around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Since yesterday was Mother's day,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> this post is about</span><span style="font-size: large;"> kids growing up and leaving. My last child left for college last September, but I had the good fortune of having my daughter move home. Now those of you who I talked to every day, probably won't see it that way and I must admit, I rode her hard and I was out of line. That child was sure of her dreams and goals and I had no patience as she was "masters prepared engineer" and needed to get a job in an engineering firm and start her life. The link below will lead you to her blog </span><span style="font-size: large;">and if you take a minute to understand her...you will agree, I was out of line. </span><br />
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<a href="http://wondermarkstheroad.tumblr.com/"><span style="font-size: x-large;">http://wondermarkstheroad.tumblr.com/</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At the time, I was doing what I thought was right because that's what I did. I got a job right out of college, looked for a husband that would be an awesome father and wanted to start my life. I didn't put a whole lot of thought into caring for people...I mean, I was a nurse and wasn't that enough? I thought so.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">March 4th, 1992, my daughter came into the world after I thought I knew exactly the right way to live my life and how I would raise her. Funny thing is, she raised me. She was a miracle to behold and like I have said in other musings, she changed me...my life plan...and who I wanted to be. I wanted to be someone that this kid looked up to and I wanted to make sure that she knew she could do anything she wanted and that she was loved. Jim and I would eat dinner with her in her "bouncy" seat and marvel at the miracle that our genes had created. Not because she was the perfect child (although we thought she was) but because we had this human being to raise.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As time went on, I decided that there was nothing more important to me than being a mother. I had my second child on a Friday the 13th in May with my dear college friend and Jim coaching me on. I brought him home and the first thing my oldest did was ask to "pet" him. True to form, she became his mentor, the person who told him what to do and how to do it and his biggest fan. While I was exhausted with two little ones, I was over the moon that I had the privilege of being their mother.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The last one came out of nowhere. My mother passed away in February of 1996, I was 31 years old and next thing I knew, another one was on the way. ( I guess you call that being comforted!) Because he was a "surprise" if there is really such a thing, I didn't get ready for a baby until a week or two before he was due. Maybe, I thought, if I didn't get ready, I wouldn't have 3 kids under 5. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanksgiving came and went and old Howie, didn't show. I even had my father in law and sister in law staying with us to watch the other two because it was getting close. He came on a Sunday morning after church in a hurry and was a strapping 10 pound dude. He completed our family and I stayed home with him while Jim took the two other little ones to cut down our christmas tree. In my mind, there was nothing better than three little ones at christmas time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, now, 20 years later, there is. To watch my oldest live her life volunteering for the Peace Corps in Peru and dreaming big...not big with stuff but big with helping people is a dream come true for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For my middle guy teaching in an inner city school trying to help 6th graders with math and coaching baseball...just hanging with the fellas hoping to make a difference by loving kids makes me loud and proud.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the "surprise" child, he watched quietly and took in the life decisions the other two made and began to make his own. This summer, this guy will spend it in service for the whole summer in Juarez, Mexico building houses.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwnOo6Ehizc&feature=youtu.be">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwnOo6Ehizc&feature=youtu.be</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I send them off...All with plans that are so different than mine. They have plans to serve, to love and to try to make the world a better place with kindness and service. They humble me and force me to be a better person.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday was Mother's day and I spent it with my boys. We hiked and talked about when they were little. They remember the things I did right and all the things I did wrong. But, they still made time to hang out with their "motha". I cannot tell you how lucky I feel. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As we sat at the brewery, (I picked that for dinner because I'm the Motha), and watched them banter about memories and listen to them gush about how proud they are of their sister...I could not have asked for a nicer mother's day. You see, they have taught me more than I can convey and they have given more joy than any one person deserves. And most of all, when I ask them to do something and they ask me why...and I reply, "Because I'm the Motha" they laugh and do what I ask!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-83407855952122613952016-04-30T16:54:00.001-07:002016-04-30T16:54:18.349-07:00When it's time to leave...<span style="font-size: large;">I'm sitting here this morning drinking my coffee, looking out the window. It's cold and dreary with another round of spring snow. The sky is gray and low and honestly, the whole scene matches how my heart is feeling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have spent the week talking about leaving. Leaving town, leaving this earth, leaving families and friends, leaving pets. It's been exhausting and sad and I often wonder why life has to be this hard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have a few patients that I have fallen in love with after having no intention of doing that. When the new year came, I had a talk with myself about becoming more "professional" and keeping my "boundaries" intact at all costs. Stop falling in love and just nurse...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After this week, I can tell you I have failed miserably and it is coming time to pay the piper. I have a few patients that are getting close to leaving this earth. They are prepared to go and are just sad. I am just sad right along with them...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of my folks came to me with a to do list that had to be completed. It was not my idea of a to do list of someone who was dying but of someone who was getting ready to move out of a house. Twice a week, I would call and plan a visit and I would get the report, " I got most of my room cleaned out and organized, took a load to the dump and a load to donate. It has been a fantastic day." Often I would hang up and laugh and tell myself that I need to talk to her because this is no way to die...She needs to slow down, hang with family and get ready. But on my weekly visits, she was full of joy and talked like a teenager at how she was getting organized. We didn't talk directly about her dying or getting ready to leave, but it was an unspoken conversation that would be had at another time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, "another time" has come. She is organized and if you were to do a moving timeline, the movers are ready to come and get her stuff. She knows that it's now time for family. Her family arrives on Monday for a visit. We didn't talk about that on her "to-do" list because I suspect that would come when it was getting really close to leave. After catching up, I did my "nurse" stuff and began to talk about what I found...and she agreed. She looked at me with her sparkling blue eyes...and said, "I know it's growing but I'm still hoping for a miracle" and after the lump cleared my throat, I responded, "Me, too." We sat for a time in silence, holding hands with tears running down our faces...knowing she is leaving soon and that the time has come.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I finished my visit wishing her a great weekend and to call me because I was going to be around and bent down to hug her. She kissed me on the cheek and told me she loved me. I responded in kind. Then I walked out the door, wiped my eyes and stuffed all the sadness deep down in the bottom of my heart and drove to the next patient.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next visit was very different but similar. I knocked on the door and walked in with my usual, "hello, it's Terry, the nurse" when I could feel the sadness of the house envelope me. The kitchen was empty and the caregiver came out and informed me that it had been a sad morning. I walked into the room to find my patient holding hands with his wife, looking at her with his mouth open sobbing. Occasionally he would take a breath and let out a moan. She turned to me and told me he has been doing this more in the last few days and he is just very sad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He has been ill for a very long time and was told 9 months ago that he would be gone in 3 to 6 months. He blew by those dates and continued to sit at the table and have meals, be read to by his wife, visited by his sons and grandchildren and did life. We didn't talk much about his leaving because he was doing so well. But, in the last few weeks, something has changed. He knows his time is closer and he is just sad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I took her place to check on him and asked him what was wrong...pain somewhere, etc...he sobbed his wife's name. Then I told him that I know he loves her and that she will be okay and we will take care of her...he sobbed even harder.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">His wife and I left him and sat at the kitchen table, trying to figure out how to get through this time. She wondered if there was anything more she could do to help. I explained that he is doing "the work" of leaving and some people just become very sad. I told her the thing to do is sit with him in it...cry with him, love him and let him get there. While it's really hard and heart breaking, being in it with him is the only thing left to do once the physical stuff is taken care of. We talked about how she can't change the situation but she can be with him in it, either in silence or with conversation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I sat for a while at the table</span><span style="font-size: large;"> wondering if I had told her the right thing...is there some other way to take all this pain away? I came to the conclusion there is not. I told her that he was so lucky to have her and that she was doing everything right and that he just doesn't want to leave her. Although it is becoming his time and she is prepared, he just wants to stay. She teared up because she is so tired...tired of wondering when the time will come, staying up nights holding hands and reading and feeding and thinking...all the things that are loving and right and holy and comforting to do when your husband is dying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I pulled out on the street and thought of myself and my daughter leaving. Granted, she's in Peru and she signed up to serve in the Peace Corps, but honestly, even leaving for a little while makes your heart ache.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Life is so hard...and so amazing...and then so heartbreaking again. You get a diagnosis, you care for a loved one, you sign a paper that closes out the marriage that you planned on lasting forever, you take a child to college, or God forbid, you bury one...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For my patients, they know it is time for them to leave. They both know that they are going to a "better" place. They know it's a place where they are not hurting anymore, or feeling nausea all the time unless they take a pill...but sometimes even knowing that and knowing it's time, they don't want to leave. That's the hard part and the part that sits in the heart and stirs the soul forever. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So leaving is hard...because usually we love the people that leave. But love is a gift...and the experiences that come with love are the gifts...the things that keep us afloat in this life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So the wish for today:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">May we love so hard that when it's time to leave...however that is, we recognize the blessing that we experienced and use those memories to heal our broken hearts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-28432584482362080982016-03-27T20:09:00.000-07:002016-03-27T20:09:26.261-07:00The wall...and I'm not talking Pink Floyd<span style="font-size: large;">As we left the US, things seemed as they always do...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9V7BWObD39oIeTJ2FVv-lic5SyIeZ7uuoV0YCoGu2ZNv3PLx6IudwsnEQXPJoR5njcQv5OHJ_CKznQPWatCLCgM4Yer_JKgtsWVx0kNmpm8FyQfTUMmwg4rAune3acJ24HeJfoTKzdec/s1600/tons+of+pictures+191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9V7BWObD39oIeTJ2FVv-lic5SyIeZ7uuoV0YCoGu2ZNv3PLx6IudwsnEQXPJoR5njcQv5OHJ_CKznQPWatCLCgM4Yer_JKgtsWVx0kNmpm8FyQfTUMmwg4rAune3acJ24HeJfoTKzdec/s320/tons+of+pictures+191.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then, when you look to the right, you see the wall separating the US and Mexico...the wall that separates us.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHkt4IR2BHrx1KWDGB2PyLk54k2koe2O18bWOZ2tk0q7S9o54400pe2TleB-ehznqP0YiLr3Pfh8aScyn3bqSQMyZ7xjDDM3yTXhFCmmKBGJuJ0fse5QUgF20jq9wExt3wRCk50AJ7TE/s1600/tons+of+pictures+214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHkt4IR2BHrx1KWDGB2PyLk54k2koe2O18bWOZ2tk0q7S9o54400pe2TleB-ehznqP0YiLr3Pfh8aScyn3bqSQMyZ7xjDDM3yTXhFCmmKBGJuJ0fse5QUgF20jq9wExt3wRCk50AJ7TE/s320/tons+of+pictures+214.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I turned from the wall to the neighborhood that we were driving in, it was obvious that what separates us is much more...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipz7Qhn2ZYBEaCVXz6wy8-faI8ILYJbSoTgl3w6_6sfb5mJR_wW9fF7f47AIPvhwG7159UAsCtOs0TdXyJVxtHiRfl3a9oTf2gAfWQE9Ry14rT9WUTrrVkGquYyi8iyGtXideR6j1EmOE/s1600/tons+of+pictures+215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipz7Qhn2ZYBEaCVXz6wy8-faI8ILYJbSoTgl3w6_6sfb5mJR_wW9fF7f47AIPvhwG7159UAsCtOs0TdXyJVxtHiRfl3a9oTf2gAfWQE9Ry14rT9WUTrrVkGquYyi8iyGtXideR6j1EmOE/s320/tons+of+pictures+215.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We have more and they have less. I guess that is a simple statement and honestly when you pick it apart, it is not simple at all. We have more stuff, more money, more food, more conveniences, more doors and windows to shield us from the cold. We have more medical care, more cars that run and more electricity. So, yes...we have more. They have less...of all the things I mentioned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, do they really have less? Sometimes I wonder.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every year, I head across the border to build a house. But, in my mind, I head across for other reasons...all having to do with what I want. This year, I went because I wanted to hang with my college boy and I knew that if I was there, he would have to talk to me. I had no plans of connecting with families or seeing anything I haven't seen before. You see, I have been doing this since 1999 and know it all...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Sunday, Jim and Howie and I went an scouted the site. It was in Anapra and is built on a land fill...a dump. The roads are cut through mounds of garbage and the smell is pungent. If you look down, you can see garbage...diapers and feminine napkins, tiles, glass and things that were thrown out. They have lost the sharp edges from people walking on the objects although if you listen when you walk...you can hear the crunch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The site was right next to the home that some of the family lived already. They wanted it built close, so they could add on and be together. As we walked up, you could see they were not sure if it was true. These three gringos were coming to figure out how to give us a house? Jim smiled and used his limited spanish to assure them that indeed tomorrow morning, more gringos were coming to work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I always wonder what the big deal is when we build an 11 x 14 house with two rooms, two windows and one door. But on Sunday, when I walked into the home they live in now...a 9 x 11 ish frame with a curtain dividing the house in half with two beds pushed together for 5 of the family members to sleep. On the other side from the beds was a stove and two plastic chairs to be the kitchen and living room...no windows and a curtain for a door. So yes, it is a big deal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Monday, we showed up...all 21 of us, to build. We had a 80ish dynamo and a 7 year old on our team. We were all there for our own reasons to build a house for a family. That was really all we knew. As the day went on, the family came over and spent time with us...not thanking us but wanting to help build the home that was to be theirs. They weren't looking to have it built and then look it over and move in...they wanted to help create it with us. As much as my rock hard heart didn't want to soften, to watch this family become more and more excited each day with this place to call home...it began to melt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We framed walls, framed the roof, poured the concrete and smoothed it, drilled holes in the studs for the light and the ceiling fan, put chicken wire on the outside and insulated...the place was taking shape.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then, Jesus, the father asked our group if we could go and visit his son and pray with him. I didn't think anything of it because I was busy but as the day wore on, we decided we could break and go. We piled in the vans and drove 15 blocks to a rented house where they live now while they wait. He told us that his son was ill and in bed and that he was depressed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We arrived to find a 22 year old boy on his side with his eyes closed in a small room. On a table next to the bed was his "things", his dressings and things I am used to. We stood around and I kneeled next to him and began to ask about his condition. His mother told me that he was unable to walk anymore and was losing function in his left arm....and then she pulled back the covers and showed me his bedsores from being in bed for 6 months. She told me that she can't go out much because he is unable to be left alone and he needs her. She started to cry. I looked away and began to get angry...I felt so helpless.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went into nurse mode, and asked a million questions about how she is caring for the sores, how she is keeping him off of the pressure points, about the plan of care for her boy. As she answered I realized where I was. I was in Juarez, Mexico where you don't get nurses to change dressings three days a week with fancy dressings and creams...you don't get cushions and wheel chairs to change the pressure on spots. In Juarez, you get to care for your boy as best you can with gatorade to put on dressings and pack in wounds because it says it has vitamins and minerals.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I slowed down and began to ask her son about pain and movement and things like that. He told me he has pain but can't afford the medication...ibuprofen...to help with it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was humbled by his mother who was like any of us...a mother who loved her boy deeply and wanted to do whatever it took to try to make him well and out of pain. I was humbled by the surroundings and the lack of medical care and information available to her to care for her boy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Wednesday night, we finished the house. It was beautiful and we were all excited. I couldn't get this boy off of my mind and went to the big grocery store to see what I could make for makeshift wound care to heal this boy. I found dressings, antibiotic ointment and things to help this boy's skin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Thursday, we had a huge party and gave the home to the family. It was a great day and the family was so happy. Then, we all went up to see the boy again and I got to give the mom all the presents I bought her so she could help her boy heal. We sat and I taught her everything I know about wound care and skin care and diet and healing. We gave them a cooler with cold cuts for protien and we held hands while we talked. Mothers who want the best for our boys do that. I told her she was doing a fantastic job caring for her boy and to keep doing what she was doing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When it was time to leave, she cried and thanked us for caring about her boy. I told her that we are mothers and we love our boys no matter who we are and where we are from...we are the same. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We are mothers and fathers and family that loves deeply and wants only the best for our loves. We are the same yet we are different. In the US, we have dressings and help and medical care that is available if we need it...even when it is not the best. We have something. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, at the end of the day, the family we built for was humble, thankful and joyful. They cried when we handed the keys over and they cried when we talked of their boy...but through the tears, you could feel the joy of life. The joy of having family around and the joy of being honored by caring for each other...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I ask...who has more? Are there things we can learn from each other? While we toil away making money and buying the latest of this and that and worrying, they seem to accept what is and love each other. Isn't life really all about the people we love? I think because they live a hard life in so many ways, the joy they get from each other is apparent in all they do. So I ask again, who has more? Who deserves more? Just questions to ponder as we go....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back to the wall...this is the tall wall that is to keep the mexicans from coming into the US. It goes on for miles and there are cameras and flood lights on our side and border patrol trucks at the ready... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What do I know about walls? If my boy needed care that I could not get here, or I had a home made of cardboard and pallets and was freezing, and tried everything I could do to change that in Mexico without luck...I would not rule out getting past that wall to a life where I was able to care for my family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That is what I learned on this trip...we are the same yet different, sad yet joyful and we all want to care for our loves...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I love you all,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Terry</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3425544489268890801.post-61272952268716370232016-03-11T20:20:00.000-08:002016-03-11T20:20:23.605-08:00Momma told me there'd be days like this.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today was one of those days...the sky was so blue and it was warm and calm and smelled of spring. Everywhere I looked, I could see hope. I know it sounds so opposite after all the disgusting politics that are going on but today was just lovely. When I turned the corner from my house, I saw a mamma dear and her babies hanging out waiting for me to go by. I know it seems a little early, but life was that good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I got to my first patients home and it was cool out and I shivered at I walked to his front door. I did all the things I do, the IV's, dressings, empty the garbage, fix them breakfast...the things that my patients expect from me and then sat down to talk. For some reason, today didn't feel so rushed. I left his house, wishing him a great weekend and headed to patient number two.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This patient, I have had for a very long time. She is old, frail and has the sweetest smile. Today, though, things seemed different. She was concerned, looking off into space and almost seemed like she was in pain. Her caregiver was concerned and wondered what was going on. I looked her over and really couldn't find anything obvious to think about or try to fix so I gently stroked her arm and watched her. She was thinking, and it was obvious she had something on her mind. Slowly and quietly (believe it or not) I asked her some questions...do you hurt anywhere? What can I do to help you? You seem unsettled...what's going on? Knowing her as I do, it was obvious she is unsettled but it didn't seem she was in pain. Sometimes, I told the caregiver, there is work to be done that we don't understand and we just have to make sure we are supporting the patient in that work...just keep her comfortable, love her up and we will watch her. Then I told her I was going to be around all weekend and to call me if she needed me. I sat in the car in the driveway and wondered if she was heading out of this world...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My third, fourth and fifth visits were lovely. Nice homes, nice people and a joy to care for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My sixth and last visit of the day was around 3 pm. I arrived to find my patient doing well and enjoying the day. I did all the "assessment" things I need to do and sat in the recliner. She sat in her chair and we began to talk. We talked about her family, her grown kids, grand kids and how wonderful and smart they are. We talked about her life when she was raising them and how different they were from each other. We talked and talked and talked. Before I knew it, I had been there an hour and 15 minutes. I decided it was time to finish up, so I walked over to her medication planner and she and I talked through the medications and why she took them and when. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, we walked through the kitchen and stopped at the refrigerator to look at what she had on it. It was filled with pictures of her life, when she was a young mother, her husband, her dogs. She went from picture to picture and talked lovingly about the folks in them. She told me of the grand kids, the daughters in laws, the great grandkids and when they had come to visit. It was a 45 minute snippet of a life well lived and loved. Finally, I asked her about the picture in the middle, one of her husband who is gone, smiling a huge smile right into the camera. I looked over at her while she was talking about him and she had a big smile on her face. She ran her hand over the pictures on the door of the refrigerator and then she turned to me and said, " I like these pictures here because whenever I go by, I look at them and remember what I good life I've lived".</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She walked me to the door and I bent down to give her a hug and I felt a sweet kiss on my cheek and heard a quiet " I love you" in my ear as I pulled away. I told her I loved her too and I would see her next week...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are days in my life that I rush through and when I get in bed, I can't remember what I've done. I have regrets about those times as many of them were when I had three little kids and needed to get them through the day. Now, I am trying to slow down and remember how my heart felt, what something smelled like and the colors in the room. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm so glad I took the time today to slow down, listen and feel that kiss on the cheek and whisper I love you...because my heart felt like it was going to burst, the cheek felt soft against mine and all I could see was the bright light of love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a beautiful day...and I have to try to make all my days like this...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'll tawk tomorrow,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I love you all,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Terry </span></div>
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Terry Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13692354673190063411noreply@blogger.com4