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The Making of a Memory

30 May

I am learning.

Now isn’t the above statement beautiful?  I think so, which is why I choose to give the three little words a line to themselves.  It is a true statement.  And the word, “still”, is blatantly omitted; its implication unnecessary, given the intent of the meaning.  I am learning…

Patriotism.

I believe it was January of 2010, perhaps December 2009, when my husband Brian, daughter Esther, and I attended the United States Marine Corps School of Infantry graduation ceremony of my son, Cole.  We took, along with us, the grandmother of my husband.  Granny, we called her.  In fact everyone who knew her called her “Granny”.  She was 83, and for the first time in his 44 years, Brian noticed her mannerisms–walking, breathing, and the like–resembled that of her moniker.  She was a Rosie the Riveter of WWII, a beauty and a powerhouse of a woman.  In her eighties she could out-lift me!  I know this because she would often corral me into helping her move a heavy, solid wood, piece of furniture from one end of her house to the other.  Bad knee and all–hers that is, not mine!  So it was quite shocking to see this grand woman needing ambulation assistance from the car to the bleachers where we sat for the ceremonial debut of Cole, the grunt (the Marine Corps sure goes to lengthy strides in ushering out the pomp and circumstance upon the young grads, only to send them out to the front lines of Afghanistan.  But that is another story, not the one I am telling here!).

Yet to the bleachers we went, though Granny took a trip over the legs of another person who happened to stretch his out just as she was passing by his seat.  Between Brian and myself we caught her, but the increased pressure the near fall caused her, already sore knee, was apparent.  With her discomfort in mind, I sat close to her so as to keep a watchful eye upon the, now fragile, woman.  I confess, I was a bit irritated at her insistence upon joining us, especially as her fragility was now an issue.  In my selfishness, I wanted to only focus on my son without having distractions.  But I did get over myself and took on the perspective of gratitude that this woman, in all her discomfort, wanted to support the accomplishment of her great-grandson.  Cole and his Granny were a special pair, and her being there was absolutely as it should be.

As the ceremony began, as it continued, and as it ended many tunes were played.  I had the privilege, because I was next to the woman, to witness Granny stand up as if on a twenty year old knee and sing every word of each patriotic song, then sit down again as if the call to action was no imposition to her worn out legs.  Not only did she sing, she sang with tears in her eyes and her hand over her heart.  She sang without shame, and a glimmer of something precious was in her eye.  A glimmer I did not possess.  In that moment, I envied the sense of patriotism Granny exuded.  I still do.  And I have never forgotten it as it is my impetus to better understand the motivating gratitude from which it was generated.

Now on Monday of this past week, Memorial Day, Cole requested we go to the Marine Corps Park in San Clemente to pay tribute to his fallen brothers.  So that morning, I took him to purchase the flowers he wanted (the type had been discussed in detail previous to the day so I knew what we were after).  And Brian, Esther, Cole, and I hopped into our 1956 Ford and headed south to the park (not to be confused with the show, ‘southpark’).  To get there we had to go around a Memorial Day blockade and be subject to the rude interaction from one of the traffic volunteers.  We then found the one handicap space available which put Cole’s side of the car directly into the bushes making it difficult for him to navigate his balance, his cane, the car door, the incline, and the shrub all at once (not to worry, we watched–just kidding, helped).  We then made it across the lot to the park.  Cole stood quietly with his cane, his dad by his side.  We placed the flowers at the foot of the Marine statue and then Brian asked Cole if he would like for him to read the devotion of the day from his devotional book.  The answer was, “yes”.  We then read every plaque and name imprinted on the statue and the surrounding wall.  I sat down on a bench with Esther as Brian offered to read the inscriptions to his son–the ones Cole’s poor eyesight kept him from reading for himself.  All the while, I couldn’t help feeling choked up.  In fact, I had to wipe away many a gratitude-filled tear.  And I remembered Granny, her beaming face, her gaze at the USA flag, and her knowledge of every word to every song sung at Cole’s SOI graduation.  I could feel the appreciation for the willingness of a stranger to give of his/her life for the benefit of others–the awe that my son is among them.  And I could feel the sorrow of the loss of each family who had a name on a plaque, while understanding more passionately the miracle of having Cole still with us.

Brian tore the page from his devotional and left it under the flowers; right next to a handwritten note from a Vietnam Vet paying tribute as well.  It was difficult, in our silence and humility, to know when to leave…though Cole helped with that as his stomach was calling the shots.

I am learning, and presently my son is the one teaching.

United States Marine Corps Park, San Clemente, CA

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Pushing Mediocre

10 May

I admit it, I am in a serious battle!  The battle?  Fighting mediocrity.  Not for me, mind you.  For my son, and for my daughter.  For my son, Cole, the medicinal world wants to offer him a text book answer.  My job is to not accept the pat answer, but to advocate for my son’s life, and in the process challenge the doctors who come our way to get off of the chair and investigate the options.  For my daughter, the adolescent world wants to chew her up and spit her out “common”.  “Common” meaning devoid of her spark, her gifts, and her standards.  My job is to encourage her to rise above the robotic thinking of the teenaged mind, while providing her solid truths to keep her focused on the bigger picture–the adventure of life.

Today, Cole and I met with a neuro-opthamalogist.  It was a long awaited appointment.  Cole’s most significant sufferings come from the problems with his eyes.  All of which are present due to the cranial nerve damage resulting from the tumor resection.  In fact, because of Cole, I have learned so much about the anatomy of the eye–and how integral moisture is to its health.  Our tears are paramount to the entire functionality…more accurately, the physical functionality of the eye ball itself.  But let me tell you, if your physicality of the eye is impaired, guess what?  So is your vision.  So keeping Cole’s eyes lubricated is of great importance and him not producing tears is a real, and serious problem.  Yet the only solution offered today, from the “specialist”, was to insert gold weights into the eyelid to help bring the upper lid down, thus covering more surface area of the eye, which would help hold in the artificial tears Cole uses every 15-20 minutes (in addition to the gel he uses in the morning and at at night and on breezy or windy days).

Gold eyelid weights…a pat answer.  We’ve heard it before–we’ve perused the thought, the practicality of the procedure, and the risks and benefits.  Been there.  So I asked the doctor today, “Is that all you’ve got, really?”  He looked at me a bit bewildered.  Then I probed his superbly intellectual mind for possibilities.  “So doctor, tell me, is Cole’s Lacrimal gland still producing tears?”  His answer, “yes”.  So I continue, “Then let’s explore how we, actually you because you are the one with the knowledge, the gifts, and the access, can find a way to bypass the non-functioning cranial nerve five and redirect the signal via another route.  In other words, if the tears are being produced but just lacking a messenger to tell them to fill the eye, let’s find another messenger.”  And since I was fired up from having a lovely cup of coffee before our appointment, and because Cole was lower than low due to exhaustion and an hour wait to see this specialist, I continued my probing…  “What about accessing liquid from the salivary glands and channeling them up to the eyes?  Or is there a way to utilize the flow from the naso-lacrimal duct?”  (FYI: because of having such a long wait for the doctor, I was able to study the eye anatomy chart for quite some time, much to the ‘surprise’ of our specialist I’m sure!)  At any rate, as I was spewing out ideas with the impetus being “hey, this is a twenty-one year old kid with his whole life ahead of him and all you’re going to offer is gold eyelid weights?”, something began to stir withing our long awaited neuro-opthamalogist.  He all of a sudden had a spark in his own eye–the spark of excitement.  He began to see the box in which he sat, and it was as if, simultaneous to my denouncing of it, he began to tear it down himself.  The possibility of looking beyond the mediocrity of the day was stirring within him.  And you know what?  This story is just beginning.  We are off the line, wheels are turning, engines revved and running.  But as every seasoned driver knows, there are road blocks ahead.  And they pose no problem.  For we will meet them and challenge their presence…or at least I will, and by default, the I turns to we.

In addition to the aforementioned innovative process, the mere excitement which comes from bouncing ideas off of one another builds trust and confidence within the working party.  And as a result, Cole was set up with a product that was entrusted to us in a “hush hush, closed door” type of manner.  A product that usually takes quite a while to procure for patients due to its high cost and low demand.  A product which could aid in the regeneration of brain to eye communication–for that, we are keeping our fingers crossed!

The final step of today’s appointment was that we were to be given instructions for a nighttime patching system.  Now as we were wrapping up the already extensive meeting with the doctors (yes, we had more than one toward the end of our visit), I was given a gift.  The pay off, if you will.  For instead of having to endure more time in the clinic than was already invested, the specialist turned to his associate and said, “I have no doubt these two know exactly how to put it on (the patch system).  I trust them;  just get them the supplies.”

We are settling NOT for mediocrity, the ordinary, nor the average–which is why I must drink more coffee!

A fitting funny courtesy, “NYCitylights.wordpress.com”

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just Making It

17 Apr

We are home and southern Cal weather is good medicine for the weary.  The reason for my title?  Because we are just making it by the hair of our chinny, chin, chin…

Sometimes, in life, I feel (to coin a phrase from the movie The Outsiders), “Golden”.  Then there are other times.  Today, and yesterday, and the day before that (which would be Saturday), I feel I am “just making it”.  And by just making it, I mean I am pushing myself to get things done that need my attention, but am struggling with even that.  I am moving my body forward, whether it is paying a bill, following up a telephone call on behalf of our family, or responding to the many emails I have that require a response.  But all the while my brain and body want to crawl back into my cozy bed and pretend I have no-one, nor no-thing requiring my attention.  And when I say that, I am pointing the finger in my own direction as well.  For even my own need for food, drink, and bathroom is an annoyance to my ‘just making it’ condition!

The above paragraph was written by me yesterday.  Today I have discovered the culprit to my debilitating exhaustion of which I previously wrote.  In an effort to medicinally treat a self diagnosed rhinitis condition, I used a nasal spray that was given to me by who knows who, and who can even remember when!  This morning I took a closer look at the sealed pamphlet which was lurking inside the box only to discover the prevalent side effect listed (of any consequence) is, “tends to cause somnolence”.  Now I had the general idea that that particular word had roots in the drowsiness category and to confirm my suspicions, I looked it up in my handy dandy dictionary (the one I stole from my high school library back in 1985; and which I attempted to return in 1994 only to learn it was no longer the type of dictionary the library wanted to house, thereby absolving me of my adolescent crime.  Thus it has finally become legitimate in my care–at least I legitimately use it!).  Yep, my weariness was brought forth through the use of an uneducated attempt to self medicate an undiagnosed condition.  Sounds smart…good thing I’m not writing a medical advice blog because I just might also try to sell you a remedy/diagnosis from Better Homes and Gardens which for some reason was gifted to me by an anonymous source and happened to be the catalyst to my perusal of medicine cabinet options.  Go figure, I sit down to use the john and find, through intensive study and research of course, via BHG, that I am the sufferer of “hormonally onset spontaneous rhinitis”.  Whatever that means.  That was my mal-interpretation!  For I’m sure their article was presented in a manner which pointed the reader to “review the options with your allergy specialist”.  But hey, that takes too much of my time.  So I grabbed my ailment and treated it with with all the enthusiasm of a toddler and the first bite of his or her birthday cake…full steam ahead!  I know, not too clever.  Next time I’ll be sure to consult US Weekly or People magazine before medicating my new found disease.  HA!

Anyway, Cole, Piper, and I actually left San Jose on Friday afternoon and made it home in 6 and one half hours–with snow and rain on the grapevine.  The traffic conditions were optimal and the general flow of traffic was at a rate of about 90miles/hr (though I did slow down in the blizzard). 🙂

And even though Cole did not receive his magic wand effect of the returned smile he was hoping (and we were praying) for, I can tell you his balance is greatly improved and his face does seem more taught.  Which in the realm of muscular dysfunction, taught is an improvement from atrophy.  We do agree, however, that two weeks in a row is too much.  His head is welted and the inside of his mouth swollen.  He is exhausted from hotel living and lack of sleep along with the therapy.  So while he won’t be rushing any time soon to again return to such a stringent therapeutic regimen, I’m sure he will return to the clinic for a maximum of 4 consecutive days in the near future.

And now his challenge is to continue the course of exercise and muscular manipulation prescribed by the doctors; while my challenge is to stay focused on the positives of life.  And that, my friends, can be quite challenging indeed.  Especially when seeing my son discouraged, disabled, and dependent is a heartbreak I carry daily.  YET, I feel it more of a burden to “see the cup half full” when I have fallen prey to the side effects of prescription strength, though non-prescribed, nasal spray.  Thus I avow to lay off the sniffer and to again attempt an attitude of thanksgiving.  Because ‘just making it’ doesn’t really feel so good, and is definitely NOT where I wish to reside.  No more rhinitis for me, but the hormonally challenged part of the equation will most definitely have to stay.

Psalm 94:19
In the multitude of my anxieties within me,Your comforts delight my soul.

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