Just Like, and Type "Amen"

Oh, how I hate seeing these dumb memes come down Facebook.  "Just like and type 'Amen' and you will receive a large sum of money in three days".  Or, how about "Like and share if you love Jesus"?  These just really get my goat!
Don't get me wrong, I'd love to get a large sum of money, and I do love Jesus, but I am pretty sure my Facebook activity doesn't have much to do with either one.
First of all, do you personally know someone who got that large sum of money in three days?  Me neither.  And have you ever heard of anyone being struck dead because they loved Jesus, but didn't like and share a post?  Me neither.
You know, somehow our society has managed to come to the opinion that if we do "X" and "Y", God will send us "Z".  Where, exactly, does God promise to bargain with us?  No where that I can find.  I hear Joel Osteen preaching that if we do what we are supposed to do, we will be rich.  He doesn't say it in so many words, but that is the implication.  We are humanly trying to put a value on a blessing from God.  A dollar value.
Our "riches" and blessings have value, but certainly God doesn't need money to make them worthy.  We are using our finite minds to figure up something that came from an infinite God.  Think about Job.  He was a very righteous man, and had found favor with God.  He was doing it right.  He was obeying God and living where God wanted him.  And yet God allowed satan to take away all that Job thought was valuable, further proving that Job was a righteous man.  God wasn't punishing Job.  He simply allowed it.  He knew that whatever we endure on this earth, good or bad, can't compare with our eternal rewards.
While we may suffer and endure tragedy on earth, we can still have hope and know that our reward in Heaven (if we are born-again Christians) will be so much greater than anything here.  The richest man on earth will have no meaning in eternity.
This is why sometimes, even when we are right where God wants us to be, terrible things (as defined by our human, finite minds) can happen.  And by the same token, great things (also as defined by our human, finite minds) can happen to the worst of people.  People who we feel don't deserve this or that seem to have wealth and success.
I just hate that the majority of society, and some Christians, seem to think if they do this or that, in this way or that way, God will zap them some cash.  It just doesn't work that way.  We are to do right in the sight of God because it's right in the sight of God.  Our rewards will come in Heaven.  This is not to say that God doesn't bless Christians with money, either.  Just that the money, success, failure, tragedy, whatever is all temporary and will pass away.  We are much better off to concern ourselves with our eternal rewards instead.
So, don't be offended if I don't type "Amen" on your post.  And know that I do, in fact, love Jesus, though I may not like and share your post.
See you on the other side!

I'm a Woman, and It's My RIGHT!

I am a bit appalled at what I see on the news lately. Although we live in a country where we are free to say nearly anything, these women who are marching for "rights", and spouting ignorance for all to hear just really upset my apple cart. 
What were these women marching for?  Rights?  Rights to do what?  Women's Liberation has long been over and at present, we have the "right" to do just about anything we want.  So, I guess the next question is, what is it all you women want to do?  Dress like a purple vagina?  Say things like "blow up the Whitehouse"?  A small part of me is embarrassed to be the same gender as you marching women. 
I suppose I would be called "old-fashioned", but I love that fact that women are not the same as men.  Just like God intended. I am glad there is still some chivalry.  I love it when my husband opens the door for me.  It makes me feel special.  What do you women want - for a guy to come up and shove you out of the way and race you to the door to run in first?  I mean, isn't that equal? Do you really want to work the same job as a man?  While I know a few women in the manual labor sector that could keep up with a man, most could not.  Our bodies were not designed the same.  Our muscles are not the same.  We weren't meant to hurl bags of feed or bales of hay onto a big truck. 
Do these women get angry if a man sends them flowers or candy?  Do they expect an engagement ring?  It seems as though they are trying to only have the benefits of both worlds.  They want equal pay for doing a man's job, but they want the boss to leave out the really hard stuff.  They say they want to be exactly equal, but are mad when they don't get candy and roses on Valentine's Day.
Women's Liberation was a movement designed to stop women from feeling and being seen as sub-standard citizens.  I suppose they got their wish, but in fact, they were never sub-standard.  They were different.  Is a truck better than a car?  They are both vehicles, but were designed to do different things, with one filling a gap left by the other.  Women were designed with very specific purposes in mind.  Bearing children is vital to the success of our generations.  Of course, we all know if men were required to bear children, there would be like three people left on the earth.  Women were designed to produce food for their babies.  Women were designed to be emotional and nurturing.  If men were emotional, we would sure have a lot of crying going on.  It's good to be different.  To fill a different role than men.  Just like we were intended to.
Another thing I don't understand is why there are protests about Trump being president.  Don't you people live in this great country?  Maybe you haven't learned this, but we are a democracy.  That means that we all get a vote in what happens.  Sometimes your vote happens to be the way things go, and sometimes what happens isn't what you would have preferred.  That is both the great and terrible thing about living in a democracy.  If you don't care for this form of government, our country grants you the freedom to move to a different country if you so choose. 
Our country allows you the freedom to protest.  Now, most times a protest is designed to sway peoples' opinion of a certain matter, or to show your distaste for the actions or lack of actions of someone or some group, or to indicate that your rights have somehow been violated.  But to protest who got elected president isn't a protest at all. It's a fit.  A fit that further confirms the downfall of our society as a whole.  Personally, I did not care for President Obama.  But, I live in a democracy, and apparently two times, the majority of the people in this great country wanted him to be the President.  So, that's OK.  The president deserves some level of respect simply for the title he has been given.  Regardless of my opinion, and whether or not I agree with everything President Obama did, if I would have come face to face with him, I would have shown respect and addressed him as "Sir".  It's the right thing to do.
I fear we are teaching our children that they don't have to show respect to anyone, ever.  That, my friend, is a sad day.  Don't you want to know that if you put money in your bank, it will be there when you go to withdraw it?  Don't you want to know that those employees have been taught and trained to do what is good and right, even if it's not always what they want?  I sure do.
This generation is learning all the wrong things.  There is something great to be said about having empathy for others.  Something great about sometimes putting aside your wants and needs for the good of someone else. This generation is missing out on the joy of doing random acts of kindness.  Missing the joy of helping a fellow citizen just because you can.  Missing the safe feeling that comes from knowing you must obey the rules, and anyone who does not will be punished. Missing the definition of fighting for a cause that will better the lives of many. They're just missing so much.
Don't any of these protesters have jobs?  I have never participated in a protest, because I and my husband had jobs.  If we missed days of work, it was missing money in our pockets.  I feel a lot the same towards these protesters as I do career criminals.  If you had a job you worked at all day, and then went home to take care of your family, you simply wouldn't have the time to attend protests and/or commit crimes.  I guess I just don't get it.
If you want to change the world, it starts at home. At YOUR home.  Get a job.  Work. Have a family.  Love your family.  Teach your children right from wrong.  Attend church.  Let your children see you give money back to the cashier who gave you too much change.  BE the miracle in someone's life.  That will produce much more world change than wearing a purple vagina on your head and shouting in the streets.

Livin' On a Prayer

What's in a prayer? Is it just a ritualistic process?  Who can pray? 
I see lots of social media posts about prayer, and I also see people asking for prayers, with responses from a variety of people saying they are praying for them. I believe in what the Bible has to say about prayer, which makes me question some of the things I see on the internet and social media.
First, I believe only "saved" or "born again" people can pray to God.  The Bible says the only prayer God hears from unsaved people is the prayer of salvation.  And after that, prayer is our direct line to God.  No need to go through a priest, minister, etc.  We can communicate directly with God.
The Bible also teaches us how to pray, by giving examples, and it tells us that our prayers are not supposed to be so repetitive and ceremonial that they lose their meaning and no longer come from our hearts.  Our prayers are not to be said so others will think we are "religious" or pious.  Our prayers are to be said in private, directly from our hearts.  Some people think they can't pray because they aren't smart enough or eloquent enough, and that's just not true.  What God wants is our whole heart.  And, of course, He knows our needs before we ask, but He desires our companionship, which we give through prayer.
The Bible says we are to pray without ceasing.  Of course, if we spent all our time on our knees praying, our physical body would starve to death, and we couldn't work, etc.  I believe this means to be in tune with God at all times.  With an attitude of prayer at all times.  I try to spend devoted prayer time each day, but I also pray throughout the day as I encounter people or situations I want to pray for.  Again, I  believe God knows our heart and thoughts, and hears our prayers whether they be long and drawn out or short and sweet.
And probably none of us spends as much time in prayer as we should.  Sometimes, I catch myself worrying and fretting about something, trying to figure out what to do, and I realize I haven't even prayed about this.  I've been stressing myself without even asking God what I should do. Other times, my heart has been so heavy I simply couldn't pray, and sometimes my prayer has been "God, you know my heart."
Still other times, I believe in my heart of hearts, other people praying for us is what carries us through those exceptionally rough spots.  Prayer is our most powerful weapon and our most pleasant comfort in times of need. And it should also be our most desired joy in times of victory and celebration. 
I am so thankful that God has given us His word, and the Holy Spirit to dwell within us and guide us as we stumble through this life here on earth!

Meningitis and Mastoidectomy Update!

Well, it is now 3 months after I got meningitis, and 2 months post-op on the mastoidectomy with encephalocele.
As for the meningitis, I still have significant hearing loss issues.  I will get my hearing aids adjusted, but not until I have my surgery on the other ear.  This hearing loss is worsened by the fact that the internal packing from the mastoidectomy has not dissolved and the only thing I am hearing on that side is my voice inside my head.  Hardly anything external. 
I tire easily.  It frustrates me so!  Before I was sick, I was usually up by 5:00, laundry and cleaning done and at work by 7-7:30.  And some days I did my grocery shopping at 6:30 in the morning before work.  Worked all day, got home by 5:30, made supper, cleaned, etc. and did it all again the next day.  Now, I am pooped by mid-afternoon, and I am not really doing hard physical work like I was before.  So, the whole time I am sitting down taking a break, I feel like a slug for sitting down taking a break. Anyway, this is mostly a personal, psychological issue I am having to come to terms with.  I am not a good sitter-arounder. 
Sometimes, I feel weird.  (My family would be chiding "You ARE weird!" to that statement)  I can't really put my finger on what feels different, just weird.  Just not quite right.  And I have trouble remembering (worse than before) why I went into a room.  Or what I needed to grab at the store.  Adding in my head used to be split-second.  Now I have to think about it. Just some little things that no one but me notices, but drives me crazy!
As for the ear surgery, I have had 2 post-op visits where they removed all packing that could be seen on the outside of my eardrum.  All that's left is internal packing which they assure me will dissolve.  I hope they speak the truth!  I thought I would be hearing great by now, but they say it could take another 4-6 weeks.  I do a lot of smiling and nodding because I can't hear what people are saying.  Most times, I can hear the noise, just can't make out what they are saying.  One guy asked my husband if I was "OK".  He informed him I couldn't hear and didn't want to say that, so apparently he had asked me something and I just looked pleasant and smiled at him.  You can hear our television from the driveway.  Sorry.  I wear one hearing aid in my "good" ear, but when I am in a place with background noise, it is all so loud I can't make out anything, so I sort of "check out" and hope no one is speaking to me. 
There isn't any pain from the surgery.  I do have some itching in some place that can't be reached and it makes me crazy from time to time.  My hair is growing back where they shaved behind my ear. And it is nice to be able to just get into the shower without having to water-proof my ear first. 
At my last ENT appointment, the doctor said he had myself and another patient with the issues I have, and that it was so rare there wasn't actually much in any text book to learn about.  I am either an anomaly or a freak - you can draw your own opinion!   I guess it's good he knows what he's doing! 
As I reflect on where I was three months ago, and that fact that I am "nearly" back to normal, it is a total miracle.  Not luck, but a direct result of God not being finished with me yet. I am truly grateful for the opportunity, and hope that somehow I can show my gratitude and show God's love through my life.

Mastoidectomy Surgery

Well, I had my first surgery Nov. 12.  If went off without a hitch!  I was extremely apprehensive because of the possible side effects - seizures or stroke.  Fortunately, it all went smoothly.  I will attach pictures at the bottom of this blog - if you are squeamish, don't look!!
So, part of my mastoid bone was gone - either from repeated ear infections as a child, or possibly from birth.  And because of the missing section of bone, my brain was sitting on the three bones in your ear canal that are supposed to vibrate when you hear sound.  I have had significant hearing loss for some time and tried to explain to different doctors how things sounded.  My voice is extremely loud inside my head.  Chewing is extremely loud.  When I eat or talk, the only thing I can hear is me.  It drowns out all external sound because it's so loud.  Of course no one offered any reason for this and most looked at me like I had hit my head.  So, I got hearing aids.  They did nothing for the issue at hand, but they did amplify the external sound enough that I could hear above my own voice slightly.
So, I got meningitis and because of that, I had a CAT scan, which showed the issue with the missing bones in my ears.  So, that is why they think I got meningitis and said it required a reconstruction of the mastoid bone and a lifting of my brain to get it back to where it belonged. 
It was about a 3 hour surgery, and they actually ended up cutting off a portion of my brain and cauterizing it, which caused it to "retreat" upward and allowed room for reconstruction of the missing bone without "lifting" the brain.  That's all good news, I am told.  Apparently everyone else of the face of the planet had surgery that day, too, because it was after 10:00 p.m. before I got to a room.  There really wasn't any pain, so to speak.  The incision was around the back of my ear - they basically folded it over onto my face and then sewed it back where it belonged. 
The worst part was the recovery time.  2 weeks of not bending over and not lifting.  Do you know how many times you bend over in a day?  Or how many times you grab something up without even thinking?  And the fact that I didn't really "feel" that bad almost made it worse.  I felt like getting out and doing things, but I couldn't.  So, I abided by the rules.  Oh, and I couldn't cough or sneeze for 2 weeks, as well.  So, at my post-op check up, they said everything looked great, and I could bend over and begin easing back into life.  I go for my final check up end of December.  Then they will schedule the other ear.
And, apparently there is some scarring from when I was intubated with the meningitis, and I have told different doctors what it feels like in my throat, and they don't seem to concerned.  But to me it feels like if I cough really hard, something will come up into my throat and cut off my airway.  So, I am still trying not to cough or sneeze.  I googled and the only thing I found that is close to what it feels like is called a "granuloma" on the larynx. I found pictures and it took months for the case I saw to heal.  I am hoping mine doesn't take that long!
OK, here are pictures:

 OK, the gross ones are of the actual surgery.  My brain is hanging out, but I couldn't tell you where.
Below is a picture of the incision right after surgery, and then 2 weeks post-op.

Meningitis: All I Never Wanted To Know

Meningitis. Isn't that something teenagers get from the locker room? That's pretty much all I knew about meningitis - until I got it.

I am almost 50 and certainly don't visit locker rooms. I am the mom. The wife. The grandma. The chief cook and bottle washer. I do things. I take care of things. I take care of everyone else. I don't have time or money to be sick. I don't have insurance, thanks to obamacare. I don't go to the doctor unless I think I am dying. And as a rule, I am not sick that often. I don't have any health issues- no high blood pressure, no diabetes, etc. But sometimes all that doesn't matter.
It started on a Wednesday, and possibly before that, as I lost track of several days. I was around my son, who had fever, and what we thought was probably a cold or flu, this was on Sunday. I felt kind of crummy, and figured I was getting whatever he had. That's pretty much the last memory I have until I woke up in the ICU the following Sunday.
Apparently I stayed home from work on Thursday, which is unusual. My husband thought something was wrong, but said I insisted I was fine and didn't want to go to the doctor or urgent care. And he said I was moaning and making weird noises (noises we now know are signs of meningitis).  My mom called to check on me, and  my husband said I didn't want to talk to her, which I would normally never do (you have to talk to your mom, no matter what, right? I was up and down all night Thursday. And I am told I made lots of cappuccino and toast through the night (it's a wonder I didn't burn down the house!) And the moaning and noises went on all night. He said he asked me why I kept making the noises, and I said I couldn't help it.
By Friday morning, I was too weird to ignore, and was "combative". My parents came over to have a look and everyone decided I needed an ambulance. The paramedics wrestled me from my bed to the gurney and from that time on I was tied down. One of the paramedics said it looked like meningitis, and by the grace of God, that info was relayed to the ER staff.   And it was no coincidence that the ER nurse who attended to me had some clout, and had had two prior meningitis patients, both with sepsis, and she insisted on starting steroids. Of the two prior patients she had, one did not survive, and had not been given steroids. So, that alone probably saved my life.
After testing, I had (I hope I'm phrasing correctly) pneumococcal bacterial meningitis, and a test of my spinal fluid showed sepsis. Apparently I had an inner ear infection, causing my ear drum to burst, allowing bacteria to enter my brain, and once there, it is free to multiply with little resistance. They pumped me full of steroids and antibiotics, and loaded me up and took me to the ICU in Springfield. This was Friday.
Once there, they put me in a medically to induced coma to allow my brain time to heal. I was intubated, of course, and also had a feeding tube in my nose.  They told my family it would be 7-14 days before I would wake up.
And then they began to tell my family what outcomes they could expect. (Tears flow every time I think about this. God spared my life, and though I don't know why, I am so thankful!)  They said one in three don't wake up at all. And if I woke up, I could have stroke-like symptoms, damage to motorskill function, brain damage in cognitive areas, memory loss, vision loss, hearing loss, and a number of other things. The prognosis was not good. Periodically, they would reduce the sedation to see how I behaved, and if I could obey simple commands. My hands were tied down because I would try to pull the tube out of my throat. I feel so bad for what my family must have gone through during this time.
On Sunday, my husband had come from the waiting room to the icu and spoke with the doctor in the hallway, who said, there's just no way to tell when I would wake up, and it would probably be several days. He continued to my room, where he pulled the curtain back to hear the nurse say "She's looking for you. She's awake."
My first memory is my husband asking if I knew where I was. Of course I didn't. And I don't remember much from that day, but according to my family I was obnoxious and tried to be funny and make jokes - I'm sorry to the ICU nurses, I'm usually pretty reserved. They asked me many questions- my family's names, dates, places, etc. I remembered most things, but not the grandbabies! How was that possible?! Thankfully that was only temporary!
I did well enough that they moved me to a regular room on Monday night. I was very unsteady, and required a walker to get around (I thought those were for old people!) I was able to convince the physical therapy guy that I was fine and needed to go home.
They had placed a picc line (peripherally inserted central catheter) right below the bicep of my right arm, for administering my antibiotics, as they weren't sure how long I would be there and it goes directly to your heart in the event the need to get something in your really fast. They let me go home Wednesday night.
Thursday morning a home health nurse came and showed my family how to administer my medicine. Of course, I am a worrier and fretter, s when they said ,"Now, this goes directly to your heart, so you really need to be careful about germs, and really shouldn't touch the end with your fingers." That gave me one more thing to be paranoid about. Anyway my family managed to do it without killing me. We did that for 7 days or so, twice a day. And showering was quite a feat, as I couldn't get the picc line wet. So the wrapping and taping process was long, and let me tell you, that medical tape sticks! I can't be sure, but I think I have about 7 less layers of skin on my right arm! My dad was wrapping once, and I was trying to explain that the least amount of tape touching my skin, the better. He didn't fully understand until it had to come off -not very fun!
Finally I had my appointment with the infectious disease doctor (I have to admit, I felt uncomfortable sitting in his waiting room-what if I caught a disease?) Anyway, my blood work looked great. So they removed the picc line and sent me home with oral antibiotics. And told me I didn't want to get an air embolism where they removed the picc line, so I had to keep antibiotic ointment and a bandage on it for several days. One more thing to be paranoid about. And what exactly is "several" days?  It was nice to be able to let my skin grow back on my right arm, though!
My next trip was to the ENT. He showed me a scan of my head. I was happy to see I did, in fact have a brain in there - I was worried there might just be a handful of peas rolling around up there!  Having never had my head scanned before, we would never have known this if I hadn't gotten meningitis, but a section of the mastoid bone in my ear is missing on both sides, and my brain actually "drooped" down into my ear canal and is currently sitting on the tiny bones that are supposed to vibrate, and then send sound signals to your brain. For some 15 or 20 years I have tried to explain to different doctors that all I hear is me, my voice. When I talk, it sounds like I'm yelling. And when I talk or chew, all I hear is me -it drowns out any external sound. And I sing. When I start to sing, I can't hear the music, other singers, etc. I only hear me. God has given me the ability to stay on key, I guess, as no one has ever told me to knock it off. Anyway, this requires surgery to correct. And I have a spinal fluid leak they will repair as well. They will basically cut my ear loose from my head and graft cartilage and bone from my ear and skull and attach to my existing mastoid bone, while lifting my brain back up where it belongs and then sew it all back together. Kind of gross, but I'm ok with it until my mom asks about side effects. I could have a stroke or seizures for the rest of my life from lifting the brain. Now I am having second thoughts until the doctor says I don't have a choice. If I don't have the surgery I will most likely get meningitis again and might not have such a good outcome next time.
So, my surgery is two days from now. I am trying my best to squelch my worrying and exercise my faith that God will take care of things. I will once again be totally incapacitated and have to rely on my family, which I just hate having to do, but I know they will take good care of me. And I realize all the other crap in our lives - money, stuff, activities, etc, is just crap. What matters most is (1) that you know where you will spend eternity in the event you don't get to see tomorrow (I will spend my eternity in Heaven with my Saviour, Jesus Christ), and (2) your family. Family is our greatest treasure here on earth, and God's greatest blessing!
Please say a prayer for me. Sorry this blog is so long,  Just wanted to get everything in before my surgery, you know, just in case.

I'm Going Postal!!

I am really close to losing my mind over the United States Postal Service!

I can't say enough good things about our local post office.  They are always most helpful and courteous, and very professional.  I have no complaints whatsoever.

The entire postal system, however, is another story!  I shipped a package 13 days ago. I sent it priority 2-day mail.  I checked the tracking number each day.  The only information it showed was a scan when it left my local post office. On the fourth day with no tracking updates via the internet, and the package not received by the recipient, I phoned the number on the usps website.  After entering a thousand prompts and numbers, I am told by a recording that if I leave my number, someone will return my call according to my place in line.
Sure enough, they call me. They ask again for all the information I spent 20 minutes entering earlier, which I give them.  The customer service lady says, "Well, it looks like it was scanned when it left your post office, and is currently in transit."  I said, "I know that.  I just told you that's what it said on the internet tracking.  But I sent it Priority, 2-day and it's been 4 days." "Well," says the lady, "there's really nothing more we can do until it gets scanned somewhere else.  And you have to wait 15 days to file a claim."

It has now been 13 days and I can't wait any longer.  I call our local post office.  They are most cordial and apologetic.  They give me an 800 number to call, and tell me it will launch an inquiry into where it should have gone after it left here, so they can actually check with the next-receiving post office.  Guess what?  It's the same place I called before!

I call, enter prompts and numbers for 20 minutes, and again am told it's better to request a call-back instead of waiting. So, I leave my number.  I am on the phone with a customer when my cell rings, it's them and I missed the call!!  They call again. I say, "Hello."  The person on the other end says, "Ello. Theez eez (some unrecognizable name) weeth thee Uneeted Staats Poostal Surveez. Ow cun I elp you?"  I'm like, really?  The United States Postal Service can't even hire someone who speaks understandable English?  Is this person even IN the United States?  So, after several huh's and what's on my end, I finally understand they will start a claim and investigate.  I am given a claim number (which I am still not sure I understood correctly) and told someone will call me shortly.

No one ever calls, and I am unable to speak with anyone else about it.  Finally, 25 days later, I receive a refund check from the postal service.

And 43 days after the original mailing, guess what I find sitting on my porch?  The original package, undamaged and obviously unmailed. I don't get it. Where had this package been for a month and a half? And why could no one find it?