one year ago today

One year ago today, at 3:00 am I picked Stan up from the airport. The Navy had flown him home 3 months early from deployment to be by my side through the trials that awaited us. We made the hour drive back from Seattle, dropped off the girls with our friends, picked mom up and took her to the hospital for brain surgery. At 5:00 am we rolled her into the room to be prepped for surgery. 

Several hours later, we saw mom again in the ICU recovering. She was already laughing and talking. Her room was so big, she thought they'd rolled her into a hallway. She asked me a few times to take her glasses off her head since they were squeezing it. I assured her it was the incision and 26 staples that were making her feel the squeeze. Other than that she was totally lucid and was cracking jokes to all of the staff. She didn't need any pain medicine from this point on. We would have to wait another four days for the results from pathology. 

“The comedy of man 
survives the tragedy of man.” 

–G.K. Chesterton, Illustrated London News, 2-10-1906

“When we step into the family, by the act of being born, we do step into a world which is incalculable, into a world which has its own strange laws, into a world which could do without us, into a world we have not made. In other words, when we step into the family we step into a fairy-tale.” –G.K. Chesterton, Heretics

One Year Ago Today and Yesterday

Last night I was thinking about last year. One year ago yesterday, my dad called me up at around 10pm. I didn't think much of it as he often called me late at night, especially when Stan was deployed. He'd call up and say, "Hey sweetie, are you awake? Do you mind if I stop by for a visit?" (My dad worked nights for 15 years, and was very much a night owl like myself.) I would almost always answer yes, and he'd reply with, "Oh good, because I'm in the driveway." We'd stay up until 2 or 3am, watching movies or talking about life and faith or all of the above. I didn't expect this call to be any different, but it was. 

At 10pm the girls were tucked in bed and asleep, and Dad called. He asked if I could go to the store and get him some juice. It was an unusual request. He zipped around all over the place picking up this and that everyday. He was always able to drive, and loved visiting with strangers at the store (or anywhere else). The girls were tucked in bed, and I was a little concerned. I asked him if he was ok. He said he'd be all right, but didn't feel well and could really use some juice to help his stomach pain. I ran to the store, picked up the juice and took it to my parent's house. (My mom was an early to bed gal, and he didn't want to wake her.) When I arrived at the house he looked bad... really bad. His skin looked grey and ashy, something was not right. I asked if he needed me to take him to the hospital, but he said no. I asked again several times, and said if it got worse he'd call. I headed home a bit later with an unsettled feeling, and called my sister. She thought I should give it another try to get him to the hospital. I called back and asked dad if I could take him into the hospital. Again, he said he'd be all right. 

The following day I stopped by to see him, and still thought he really should go to the hospital. Mom ran a couple of errands while we waited for a call back from the doc. We waited through a good chunk of the day when my sister (who is the tough one) forced the hand and told dad we would either take him to the hospital or call the ambulance. She was right, and made things happen. She's very talented that way. Within a few minutes we were loading dad in the car and heading to the ER. 

Dad had been sick for several weeks and had been undergoing the regular battery of tests to try to figure out what was going on. He had a biopsy scheduled for the following day, so he had thought he could just wait it out. But with things taking a turn, it was into the hospital for us. In the ER with a doctor that looked like Doogie Howser, we found out that all of the fluid that hadn't been processing through his liver was infected in his abdomen. Thanks be to God we had taken him in. 

Today was the day that began our wild ride that was to be our 2012. I've been contemplating the events of the year in light of the liturgical year of the Church. There are times for feasting and for fasting, for rejoicing and for mourning and this is true of our life experience. As this year of reflection upon last year begins, I am thankful for every moment and memory that I have to reflect upon. 

I took this picture of my dad was we loaded up into the car to go to the Emergency Room, commencing a journey that would lead we knew not where. 

And this year...

This year we go about our daily lives, as if things are back to normal. Sometimes they feel that way, and sometimes they don't. But each day we have the opportunity to grasp hold of the beauty of life. Knowing that each moment truly is a gift, and we are never quite sure what the next will hold. I was comforted reading the following today.

"Indeed the Book of Job avowedly only answers mystery with mystery. Job is comforted with riddles; but he is comforted. Herein is indeed a type, in the sense of a prophecy, of things speaking with authority. For when he who doubts can only say 'I do not understand,' it is true that he who knows can only reply or repeat 'You do not understand.' And under that rebuke there is always a sudden hope in the heart; and the sense of something that would be worth understanding." 

-G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man

I know I posted this quote just a few days ago, but it resonates with my soul, so much that I am posting it again. 

All pessimism has a secret optimism for its object. All surrender of life, all denial of pleasure, all darkness, all austerity, all desolation has for its real aim this separation of something so that it may be poignantly and perfectly enjoyed. I feel grateful for the slight sprain which has introduced this mysterious and fascinating division between one of my feet and the other. The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost. In one of my feet I can feel how strong and splendid a foot is; in the other I can realize how very much otherwise it might have been. The moral of the thing is wholly exhilarating. This world and all our powers in it are fare more awful and beautiful than even we know until some accident reminds us. If you wish to perceive that limitless felicity, limit yourself if only for a moment. If you wish to realize how fearfully and wonderfully God's image is made, stand on one leg. If you want to realize the splendid vision of all visible things - wink the other eye. 

G.K. Chesterton, Tremendous Trifles

Seeing Yellow

This past week has been a roller coaster ride along the ups and downs of health and wellness. That's not to mention the outpouring of family devotion and strength under fire of circumstance. There is likely to be over the coming days many more pictures of this precious little yellow man that I call Daddy and my girls call Pa. He is truly one of my greatest treasures on earth. I've been doing my best to tend to his needs changing bandages, refilling ice packs, fetching pillows, learning how to cook food without salt (thank you sodiumgirl.com) and learning a second language (the medical lingo in all things liver related, or at least some things). We celebrated his 60th birthday this week without much fanfare as he drifted in and out of sleep in my parent's living room. If you think to, send a prayer our way for my dad. He really is a precious gift from God to me and so many others.

Game Changer

This week hit me like a ton of bricks. I try to spend my time squeezing the most of of everyday moments, but every now and then I'm reminded again at the fragility of life. My dad has been sick for the past few months with something we knew (due to his changing color from flesh to yellow) was liver related. On Tuesday evening things took a turn, he had been seen by the specialist the day before and was waiting for a biopsy, but things were definitely much worse. By Wednesday we took him to the E.R. knowing that something just wasn't right. (More not right than being very yellow and bloated.) The doctor pulled two and a half liters of infected fluid out of his abdomen. Good thing we got him in there. He spent three nights in the hospital. Now we have the beginnings of an idea of what we're up against. It's a very long road with some hope and many many unknowns. There has been talks of transplant, but there are treatment options that will hopefully work before we end up in that boat. His spirits were very good the whole time. We laughed a lot to pass the time making yellow jokes whenever possible, and enjoying the kindness of all the hospital staff. If I am in and out in the future I hope you don't mind too much. I am a bit of a daddy's girl, and want to be sure he has all of the help necessary. If you think to, pray for my dad and my mom as she struggles through this time with him. God bless you all.

They filled up 2 1/2 of these, and could have filled 8 more.


My mom and dad making the best of a tough night.

Visiting Pa in the hospital


Snuggling with Pa




Yellow Pa

Mama feeding her son.

These were a couple of the pictures I didn't get posted before the liver Game Changer.



Chesterton Quote of the Day

"There is no such thing as fighting on the winning side;
one fights to find out which is the winning side."
-G.K. Chesterton, What's Wrong with the World