I'M SICK. POOR ME. *BUT THIS IS IMPORTANT!*

I feel horrible. I got home from Germany on Thursday w/ acute bronchitis.

Yep, home, doctor, bed. 

I told my sister just a few minutes ago that I had to write this blog post right now 

even while I'm feeling icky because it's so important.

No pictures to attach - I don't feel well enough to search my photos 

for ones that would work. So, this time you just get my words.

Here's my question.

What the heck is going on people??

When did we stop showing our love, our gratitude, our blessings, 

when did we stop care giving, when did we stop saying thank you, 

making our family more important than our job, our gym, our phone, our hobbies??

And, of course, my rant comes from a couple of things that have happened recently. 

...And running with it on the phone with Joan!

There are many qualities of etiquette that have changed over the last 45 years when I was a teen and taking etiquette classes. Things that have changed from 25 years ago when I was raising my boys and passing on what I believed in from my upbringing. 

But, there are some things that should never change. #Never

We have become so busy, I think, that we've lost sight of what's important.

When we get God first, family second and job third out of order, we quickly begin the snowball that becomes the size of Frosty; rolling rolling rolling. 

So busy, busy, busy. No time to think about anything but work. 

Too tired to think about anything but work.

There's many examples and they don't all include work, but a lot do.

I'm 61 this year and didn't realize my age to the extent I do now, not until I saw 

a particular wedding picture that had my two daughter-in-laws being hugged from the side by me, their mother-in-law. Oh, how I hate that term. The photo showed me looking like I look to everyone but me. In reality, I'm 61 years old. #61 And, I have the etiquette standards of someone "old".

So be it. I'm old. I look old in the wedding picture. So embarrassing when you have no idea you look old. But, I have etiquette values that I try (sometimes unsuccessfully) to hold as a standard in the way I live my life. And, those values are a good thing.

Putting God first has never been an issue. My problem has been not letting my physical adventures get in the way of keeping my family first. Not really an issue for me unless it involves getting a birthday present or Christmas presents in the mail on time!

When you are the one that is aware and believes in certain points of etiquette and those around you don't practice the same, it can be very hard not to be in a state of disappointment. That's where prayer saves my life. Well, most times. Sometimes one just can't help but be in a state of disappointment for a few moments.

So, what are those points of etiquette that I think are so vitally important and that have, for the most part, been pushed to the wayside?

1. If you receive a card or handwritten letter in the mail, you need to acknowledge that. A simple text message thanking the sender is adequate according to the Etiquette Book of Jan (though I seriously abhor text messaging as a way of communication). It works here and let's the sender know that it not only arrived, but that you appreciate the time it took the sender to "think of you".

2. If you receive a package in the mail - a birthday present, Christmas presents, a "just because" present, any "gift" - you simply must acknowledge receipt of it along with a heartfelt thank you. It's so hard in this day and age to find time for extras (isn't that basically what this post is about??) that getting a present put in the mail is a bit of a chore. All of the time involved, the $$...it's a sincere act of love. And, it deserves a thank you. It deserves more than a text message. Try a phone call, an email, a written note. Do something (but, please don't send a text).

3. After God, make sure you're putting your family first. That begins with you and your partner, your children and your extended family. And, may I say something here that will no doubt make some of you roll your eyes??

When you, my child, "fly the coop" and start becoming your own person and then roll into being your own person? Don't forget your parents. Don't forget your mom. God made you whom you are through the efforts of your parents. And, speaking as a mom, I am still your mom. And, though no longer #1 in your life, I'm your biggest supporter, your biggest fan and, even if you've forgotten, your first love. So, just because you're now an adult, don't make the mistake of cutting your mom/your parents out of your life. Seriously? Not going to be around forever and speaking from experience, don't waste the time you have now to get to know me/us as people, not just as your parents. We're more awesome than you even realize. But to know that, you have to get to know us. (Do you know your mom's favorite dessert? Her favorite movie? Her favorite scripture? Her favorite outside pastime? Stories of great adventure and fun from her past? Her college days? Etc., etc., etc......)

So, there, I've said all I came to say. Maybe I said too much. But, I stand by what I said. 

I hope I said it clearly enough that it makes sense.

I would love your feedback. Disagreement said in a kind way is welcome.

The End.

Be blessed. Be a blessing. 

IT COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE

It could.

Always be worse.

But every so often I have a 'moment'.

A moment where I sob.

I don't get mad at God.

I just feel sorry for myself.

But, only for a moment and then I move on!

I am so blessed.

No matter what physical challenges I face,

I. AM. SO. BLESSED.

And, this week has been challenging.

Let's start with January 13th - right knee replacement.

Because of Rheumatoid Arthritis.

As you age, RA changes.

It becomes degenerative in a horrid way.

On March 21st I had outpatient surgery

to clean up the area around my torn meniscus in my left knee.

RA again.

If you don't know, I've been going to a podiatrist, 

two different ones actually, for about 8 or 9 years

because I snapped the inside tendons on the inside of both feet.

I finally came to my senses after so, so many years of

the wrong treatments prescribed by my podiatrist(s).

I've come to the conclusion, and this is just my thought,

that podiatrists should only be allowed to work on the toe nails

of prisoners on death row. 

Just sayin'.

And, to save you from having to listen to me go on and on,

which I have no desire to do,

let me simply tell you that I made an appointment with

one of the top foot and ankle orthopedic surgeons in Texas.

I met with him this past Tuesday.

After Dr. Castillas looked at the x-rays, MRI and Cat Scan

of my left foot and ankle 

(it's in the biggest mess - right foot and ankle will be next)

A treatment decision was made.

I have surgery this Monday.

It was urgent to have the surgery as soon as possible. 

And, without going into all of the details,

Dr. C. said I would have lost my foot if things continued

the way they were..

Amputation.

So, surgery on my left foot and ankle is this Monday - one more day.

It's a major surgery says Dr. C., but one he's performed regularly.

The recuperation time??

This is the best part, of course!

EIGHT WEEKS - MY FOOT CANNOT TOUCH 

THE GROUND FOR EIGHT WEEKS.

 I have a trip I've very much looked forward to

with my sorority sisters that is not going to happen for me.

(hoping I can get my airline ticket $$ back)

I have wedding invitations to my son, Blake's, wedding to finish 

and get mailed. And, I have a honkin' reception hall to decorate.

The wedding is July 25th.

Oh, and then I leave for an art retreat (still a couple of seats open:)

in the South of France and then to Germany to see my

"little girl" and her family.

Let's get it done!! Time's wasting and I have things to do!

Please pray for the surgery and for the resulting pain and my recovery.

I do need those prayers.

And, if you want to come and visit I've got some fun

things to make for the wedding reception AND

a great art studio for playing!

 P.S. What would I do without my family? My boys and girls and little girls are great support. 

But, my sister, Joan, is my biggest support. 

 She is my heart.

 And, I couldn't get through this upcoming procedure or any in the past, without the Tank.

He takes amazing care of me.

 My cousin, Melinda, is so caring and loving. She is my rock.

I want to end with thanking you for putting up with me.

You read my sporadic blog posts.

Some of you lurk and some leave comments on Facebook

instead of my post, but you read me and I think you "get" me.

And, I love all of you dearly - lurkers, too. *wink*

Blessings.

DO YOU HAVE A MOTHER?

Do you have a mother?

Do you have a mother that you love?

Call her.

Call her a couple of times a week.

Send her a card.

Heck, set up a schedule, have the cards in hand,

and make it simple for you.

Just. do. it.

Love her and let her know that you do.

Bless her with the things she loves.

mom with my niece, Carly, and my sister, Joan

Do you live close to your mom?

Lunch out.

Take her chocolates (please, not generic).

Go spend the afternoon with her and play cards.

Take her out to her favorite restaurant.

Do it all and more.

The time you spend with her will not only bless

her, but it will also bless you.

She's going to die someday.

YOUR. MOM. WILL. DIE.

And, I think that there is nothing more dear

than knowing that when she does, she will be going to heaven.

To have her come to love Jesus if she doesn't already.

I want to leave you with one last thought.

My mom died one year ago today.

I loved her dearly.

I miss her so badly.

Every day.

mom's 80th birthday trip....sitting with the Tank

But, I am at peace knowing that I did all I could all of my adult years,

especially the last year of her life,

so that there was never any doubt that she knew i adored her.

That I loved her.

I have a mother that I love.

HI. MY NAME IS JAN AND.....

I'm standing at a podium in the middle of a small room and I introduce myself,

"Hi. My name is Jan and I suffer from IBS."

Did I expect a response?

From an empty room?

IBS is Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

It's not something one talks about let alone announce from a podium.

The choir loft?

In the line at the grocery store?

From the rooftops?

Over the P.A. system at Wal-Mart 

at the risk of  joining the photos of Wal-Mart shoppers?

IBS. A curse.

If you have a flare-up (flare)

you are chained to your bathroom.

If a flare comes at the wrong time 

you could miss your child's wedding,

your mom's memorial service,

your child's graduation from college,

the grand opening of a Dollar Store.

I had my first flare about five years ago.

That's a totally unacceptable experience when you're not at home.

My doctor put me on a hefty dose of a steroids

to get my flare under control.

.......And he kept me on it for.........five..........years,

assuring me that it was often done that way....long term.

He's a doctor, I believed him.

Slowly the skin on my arms became very thin

and they were easily bruised - blood bruises

like the elderly get on their arms.

It continued to get worse.

Oh, I called the doctor's office several times over those

five years and was reassured each time that

I hadn't been on the steroids too long.

It finally came to the point that I talked to my GP, whom

I trust implicitly, about three months ago.

She had me change doctors.

My new lower GI doctor is wonderful.

He weaned me off of the steroids in three days.

My arms started clearing up and 

the skin on my arms toughened up.

Yea!

At this point you're no doubt wondering why 

in the world am I telling you all of this.

Slow day.

Seriously, there is such an important reason.

It seems that the steroids built up in my body and started

affecting my behavior.

I wasn't aware of it.

Obviously, it got worse as time went on.

.....I have found out that the last year, okay,

probably two, have not been my years to shine.

I owe you an apology if I have ever acted whacked

or talked to you with an unacceptable attitude.

Hey, it could be any of many behaviors - 

I don't remember them.

I think my lack of memory has been my saving grace

in some ways.

It certainly hasn't been in a couple of instances.

May I suggest to those of you that feel you need

to bring to the attention of someone

you love, their behavior or your thoughts

of their mental stability, to do it in a 

loving way so as not to 
make them feel you are on the attack.

Be Jesus when you talk to them.

Be gentle, careful with your words

and most of all, talk to them with the love

you feel for them in your heart.
And, don't wait. Please, don't wait if
you love them. That is only harmful.

What happened to me twice before I even

knew there was a problem was not handled in that way.

Both situations destroyed me.

One friendship ruined,

the other wobbly, to say the least, for 

many months now.

I found out specifics of my behavior 

over the last year or two

from my sister, Joan, in a loving and positive

way last week in Florida.

She was kind and, though made me cry

from extreme embarrassment when

she gave me examples of my behavior,

talked to me like only my sister could.

Lovingly.

She started by telling me that she was

so happy that I was back to my "self".

I thought she was talking about my

arms so showed them off. 

But, no, she was telling me that she was

so glad that I was back to her "Jan".

I was honestly confused.

She explained that for the longest time

I hadn't been "me".

She even gave me examples that made

me want to crawl under the truck

(we were in my brother's pick-up).

Verbal attacks based on nothing, mood swings,

becoming a hermit, unquestionably whacked.

I did ask her why she waited so long to 

bring all of this up and she just didn't know......

I was so embarrassed.

I was mostly concerned that my boys

had been thinking that their mom was crazy.

No one else mattered as much.

No one.

When I talked to my eldest, he said that,

no, I had been fine for the last two years.

I had been so physically challenged.......

that's where I stopped him and steered him back

to my concerns.

That sweet boy forgave me for "nothing".

I shared and apologized to my daughter-in-law, too.

The steroids explained so much about

 the start of our relationship.

So glad to have an answer and her forgiveness.

(two down, two to go)

Even the Tank noticed my new behavior

without me having said anything.

The steroids took about six weeks to

work their way out of my body and

allow me to become myself again - to a point.

And, I feel the difference.

I'm full of the joy, the positive thoughts,

the anxiousness to "do",

and I'm happy. So joyful and happy.

I don't long to be the hermit I have become 

(let's take that one slowly - I don't do drama).

I'm me again.

I had seriously forgotten what it felt like

though I didn't realize that.

Confusing?? That's the real me, too.
However, I realize that it takes months for them
to completely work their way out of my system, 
but have been assured that any future "experiences"
will not be as horrid as the ones I've been
told about.

Again, if I have ever done anything odd or whacked

to you, please accept my apology.

This is the most effective way to get

"the word out".

If you feel the want/need to pass this

on to someone(s), please do.

I seek forgiveness.

P.S. Any comments? All and any are welcome. Anyone think this post could be any longer??

THE END

Mom as a child. She's holding onto the

necklace around her neck.

As I begin to pen this chapter of my mom's life, 

I haven't even looked back to see where I had left off

in the telling of her story.

I've put off writing this last part of her story for months.

For a bit I didn't feel comfortable talking about it.

It was too fresh, too new, and too hard for me to wrap

myself around to write this last chapter.

Then I spent literally months trying to come up

with the right title for this post. 

It had to be the perfect title.

As you can see, I lost that battle.

Blogging moves on

(I heard that somewhere)

and I have some other stories I want to tell

but can't until I end this one.

(The Grow Your Blog doesn't count. 

Vicki's *vicki-2bagsfull.blogspot.com* my friend),
and, oh, a couple of others.

Those of you that have been blessed to have

a great relationship with your mom know

what I'm feeling.

After I grew up my mom turned from "mom"

to "friend". 

We had a great relationship.

She was a beautiful woman and her kids were her life.

She passed on October 12, 2012

at the River Point Assisted Living Center

Kerrville, Texas,

after living with The Tank and me at the ranch

for 6 months.

She was my job for ten months.

Some really good, really funny,

and some very sad, 

heart crushing moments.

I would cry out to God at points in her care

because I couldn't stand the pain

of watching her become someone I didn't know.

Oh, God, it was so difficult.

But, it was a huge blessing, too.

I was with her the last months of her life

and that was a blessing.

I was at the care center for two months,

at least eight hours a day, doing what I could to

help my mom.

And then Hospice became involved.

"Why are you here?? 

She's going to be herself again after she gets some rest."

And, I firmly believed it.

Oh, they had seen it before, I knew that,

but this was different. This was my mom

and SHE.WAS.GOING.TO.BE.FINE.

AFTER.SOME.REST.

It's amazing how our brain works

in that kind of situation.

You have to live it to understand.

And, the Hospice workers see

that kind of hope, that kind of desperation,

so many times.

In so many ways.

My mom passed and joined

Jesus on October 12, 2012.

She wouldn't come back even if I begged.

That gives me great comfort.

Mom and Frank, my Tank

South Haven, Michigan,

a celebration of mom's 80th birthday

THE END

Thank you so much
for reading all of the
writings about my sweet mother.

I appreciate you so much,
        .Jan

leave a comment??

THE DAY YOU SEE I'M GETTING OLD

Letter from a Mother to a Daughter: 

"My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep. 

When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl? When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day..... 

the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you. 

And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked. When those days come, don’t feel sad... just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love. I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you... my darling daughter. "

This 'story' was posted on Facebook by a friend, Kathy Maximo, and my friend, Julie Grakowsky, made me aware of it. I read it and cried as I came to the realization that this story is my story. Even with mom's dementia getting in the way, or maybe because of it, I felt I was living this mother and daughter's life.

I'm sure this was written at the time of Mother's Day for a reason. It works beautifully, but the story works perfectly for me and my precious mother.

Blessings, Jan

I TOLD FRANK I HAD FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT

The Tank and I were laying in bed the other night talking

about this and that.

One of the things I shared with him was that I had

 finally figured out Oprah's question that hadn't been

  weighing on my mind though I know

 she'd be so proud to know that I had finally figured it out.

I'm a stress eater.

But, I get ahead of myself...

Y'all know that mom moved to the ranch in the middle

of January this year for me to take care of her.

She moved here from a memory center

in Portage, Michigan, where she was residing because

she had onset vascular dementia.

So, we make it to the ranch a couple of weeks before

this............

drove up.

Oh, heavens, that was one big moving van. 

Before I became concerned as to how much room mom's

things were taking up inside the van, I derived a great

sense of satisfaction knowing that whomever was

driving by the ranch as this monster drove up the lane,

would be wondering why we were moving, where we

were moving, had we run out of money? goats?

Center Point is like so many other small towns in that respect.

The sight of this van driving up the lane would give

the old men that drink coffee at the local mini mart

great fodder. Still makes me smile when I think about it.

Here are some shots of mom's things.

Not all of them be any stretch, but, enough that you can

get an idea of what those men pulled out of that moving van.

Oh, the boxes.

The entire mess was supposed to fit into mom's

room - a really decent sized bedroom with a 

sitting area and attached bath. Lots of storage.

But, please! A whole house into a suite?

And, of course, she wanted to start going through

the boxes one...at...a...time, handling, touching,

caressing every...single...item...in...each...box.

This picture is of mom shortly after she arrived.

I remember when I looked at this photo that it struck

me as so odd -- my mom was "old", you know, 

a senior. I had never seen it in her before and 

maybe that's because she was never "sick" before, 

I don't know. But, though she looks different to me here, 

she's still beautiful and 85 this summer.

Mom has to use a walker to get around.

She is a bit frail and her sense of balance is

somewhat off. This is the safest way for her

to get around -- even when re-introducing herself

to the goats. 

So, mom has dementia, she's moved everything

she's ever owned to the ranch and

on top of that, after she had been here for a few 

weeks, she fell and sustained three hairline fractures

in these two bones that attach to the bottom of your

hips. Yeah.

Pain, such pain sitting, standing, sitting.

Nothing that can be done (in the way of surgery) 

and thank goodness she is almost healed and the

pain is lessening weekly because she has really been hurting.

However, even in the middle of hurting she manages to

dig out her sense of humor...the picture above is mom in

a sweat suit, hood up, topped by her heavy robe 

(and an asked for pathetic look) because she 

was/is/is always cold. Someone needs to tell her she's 

in south Texas now, not Michigan.

This picture was taken this Easter, just a couple of weeks ago.

We had just been to church to witness Blake, Clay and

their daddy's baptism (it was so cool).

Blake and Clay wanted a picture taken with Grammy once

we got home. Oh, and Sophie, too.

These are the moments I like to remember.

The ones I must remember to get through the

other moments that fill my days.

I remember growing up, into my adult years, always

fearful that one of my parents would get cancer and die.

The word "cancer" had always scared me and I could

picture having to live through one of my parents getting

sick with "the C word".

Never, however, did I or have I thought that one of my parents 

would develop dementia.

It's a condition that does no apparent 'physical' harm to the person

suffering from it because they don't know that there's

anything wrong. It's the children and all of those who love

my mom that have been the greatest affected.

She has moments with me where she will question "why"

in reference to her confusion and memory loss,

but, except for those moments, 

it's those of us that love her that are feeling

the most pain. And, I'm sure there are many of you

that can relate to that.

And to those of you that are the care givers or have been

the care giver, I know what you're feeling.

I know your frustration, your feelings of inadequacy,

your fear, your exhaustion, the pounds you've added

or the pounds you've lost, those moments of delight that

you share with your parent. I know all of it

and I pray for you as I hope you are praying for me

and all of the caregivers.

AN ALZHEIMER'S POEM

Do not ask me to remember

Don't try to make me understand

Let me rest and know you're with me

Kiss my cheek and hold my hand.

I'm confused beyond your concept

I am sad and sick and lost

All I know is that I need you

To be with me at all cost.

Do not lose your patience with me

Do not scold or curse or cry

I can't help the way I'm acting

Can't be different though I try.

Just remember that I need you

That the best of me is gone

Please don't fail to stand beside me

Love me until my life is done.

Amen.