If It Weren't For The Climate

How is it that a little city in TX, the state I have spent so many years hating, can sway me so? Well, for one thing, the fact that my oldest son lives here gives it a head start. And I did live here early in my marriage, for three very heady, drunken years. Years when I thought I knew so much, but really, I was so naive it startles me to think about it now.

But other than those emotional ties, there is something about this city after all. Let's start with the medical care. How is it that what appear to be the best, most compassionate and thorough nurses come here to work? And the doctors ~ why can't all doctors be like the one we met today? He came in and had already read Parker's info, he sat down and told us what he knew about his case and asked Parker and I to fill him in on anything he had missed. At the end of the visit, BEFORE he stood up, he asked if we had any other questions or concerns, and assured us he would be calling tomorrow with the results from his blood work. He was thorough in his explanations, listened to what we said and answered everything almost with bullet points in his speech. Just what Mamma-Bear needed today.

Austin is a music city, built along a river that is called a lake. I never understood that part. Isn't a lake a lake and a river a river? Doesn't a lake have boundaries on all sides? Whatever. Probably some stoner decided it was a lake and it stuck. Doesn't really matter. In fact it sort of helps define Austin, a city that likes its reputation for being weird. There are billboards for a radio station that say, "Keep Austin Weird!"

There are more homeless people here than anywhere I've been. The ambulance driver told me people come from all over to be homeless here because there are too many soup kitchens. That ambulance driver was a Republican who "understands about killing people, but doesn't get murder." Huh? Hard ass. I told him I was a pacifist Quaker and he was tongue tied. Ha!

But here's the thing about the homeless people here. It is their way of making a living. They have no shame, no drive to make their lives better. They are homeless. That's what they do. Today I passed a homeless guy at Ben White Blvd. and S. First, at the corner where I used to work, and his sign said, "Let's be honest: I want beer!" Like I said, no shame.

Austin looks a little bit like Mexico. I didn't remember that about it. I remembered it being horribly ugly and dirty. Maybe because I am older and wiser and not quite so judgmental, maybe it is more interesting now rather than ugly. There are palm trees everywhere. I guess they are palm trees, I'm not really sure.

I didn't get to go downtown, to Pecan Street (aka: 6th St) but I have to admit the Austin skyline is quite pretty for a city. And the people are nice. Nice like they are in Georgia where you feel like strangers really do LIKE you even though they don't know you. They let you go first at a light and wave when you pass. Go figure.

Parker's apartment complex is really awesome, and so cheap! One of his friends was telling me how expensive it is to live here now. Parker lives in a four bedroom apartment, he has one large bedroom and his own private, HUGE bathroom, a shared living room, kitchen, dining room and patio that looks out to the woods (which I know are probably filled with snakes). There are beautiful swimming pools, and an immaculate, fully equipped gym. For Parker's part, including all utilities and DAILY trash pick up right outside his door, he pays $470 per month. And they think that's expensive?

If it weren't for the climate, I might be able to live here. But that heat and humidity that settles over the city like a curtain drawing closed on a stage, that will keep me away. Other than that, you're okay, Austin. Little city wearing bog boy pants. :-)

Caretakers Profession

I have to write this so I don't forget these incredible people who have helped us on this scary journey.
* Dolly ~ from India, not Nashville ~ was the first nurse who helped us so much at night, and brought me the three free meal cards abd extra blankets.
* Jen brought Parker the massive recliner on the night he raised and lowered his bed 40 times in 4 hours (yes, I counted.....) because he couldn't get comfortable, even with the IV morphine every 15 minutes. We are positive she was a cheerleader in high school, and was voted Most Cheerful by us.
* Jason was the high energy gay nurse who I wanted to bring back to the florist to work. He taught Parker about things like breathing exercises for pain management, and made me laugh with his "wacky-dacky" comments. I liked him the best.
* Billy was the night nurse who had just started and we were his first patients EVER. He also got us on the Hallucination Night. He was a real champion in the way he handled Parker, and me, during that really horrifying night. I am the most grateful for him. Another nurse would have shot Parker up with something rather than spending 20 minutes talking to him while he sat on the toilet ranting and raving in the bathroom during his hallucinations.
* Emily was the nurse who yelled at Parker for walking without permission, but she ended up being a real dynamo and was the nurse the day Parker turned the corner to wellness.
* James is our nurse on this last day who brought us the best news. He also went far beyond the call of duty to see to it Parker was comfortable, and when we wanted something he made it happen.
* Just when we thought we had gotten the best nurses on the planet, Gwen came along. She was fabulous. Always asking extra questions and giving new and helpful information. She called the doctor three times to ask him questions for us. There was so much more, it is a bit of a blur. But she was awesome.
* Our favorite techs were Paul and Brooke. They should get married and have beautiful babies.

All these people did an amazing job. we had more nurses, but these are the ones who stand out as exceptional. I hope I haven't forgotten anyone.

Very few bad nurses, but here they are:
* Leonard was useless to us. He forgot to tell us Parker wasn't going for the ultra sound and left him without ice chips for an additional 4 hours because he forgot. No problem, Parker had projectile vomiting that night to punish him. He had to clean the walls of the room. Ha!
* Brian was the male nurse who wouldn't bother calling the telly people for an accurate heart rate and said to write down 74, even after I told him Parker's heart rate hadn't been below 115 at that point. I told the Charge Nurse we didn't want him back.
* Bob was Parker's nurse the first day I got here. He isn't ethical. He told the CT people Parker's weight was one thing when it turned out he hadn't even weighed him. They could have given Parker the wrong dose of iodine as a result. He also offered to steal an extra large arm BP cuff for us. He also didn't come around as often as he was supposed to and when I went to him for help (like for pain meds about day ten) he never showed up. I'm reporting him after we are gone.

Home Is Where The Heart Is (and other happy thoughts)

WE'RE GOING HOME!!!!

I knew those emotions would all come to the surface. I am having a hard time holding them back, but I suspect once they REALLY let us go and we are driving away in Parker's car, the flood gates will open. All I need now is a really good sob.

Let Freedom Ring

If a woman who loses her husband is called a widow, what is a mother who loses her son called?


It happened this morning as I turned the corner to get on the elevator. I'd just had breakfast in the cafeteria and had allowed myself the luxury of bringing a book and eating slowly, leisurely, for the first time since I got here. I didn't actually read the book, I couldn't eat that slowly, but it was there on the table next to my tray of fruit and yogurt and granola.


As I walked back to the elevator and turned the corner, it hit me. I don't know why, but I had a vision of my leaving the hospital alone. Without Parker. Which is how it would have been if he had died from this. This vision flashed by before I had a chance to realize what it was, but left me with no doubt in my mind that God was walking right next to me, and had been here the whole time. He wanted me to know.


Throughout the night I kept waking up to hear Parker talking to himself.


"I've never been this motivated bfore."


"I am so grateful."


"I have another chance."


"I can't wait to start my life again."


"I'm so excited about the changes."


"I'm so grateful."


"I've never been this motivated before."


When I asked him about it, he told me he was having talks with himself all night. He'd had an epiphany and realized how close he had come to death, to not having another chance to get healthy. To not having the opportunity to do all the things he wanted to do in his life.


I'm not positive he gets it yet that the conversations were between he and God, not just himself. But he'll get it. I know God is here, walking next to us. He'll see to it we are pushed in the right direction. It is up to us to listen and respond.


But now Parker can hear.

When Your Child is Ill

I had no idea how frightening it would be to get "that" phone call late at night, a hospital saying my son was in the ER 2000 miles away. In thinking back to that Tuesday night, March 10th, I realize now I went into emergency mode. Like when I managed the riding school and a kid fell off and was injured. You can't allow yourself to panic, you have to move forward in a swift, purposeful way and not allow your emotions to take over. They can come later. But people follow your lead and to keep the child safe and get help as quickly as possible you have to "pretend," if you will, to not be frightened.

I kept waiting for the adreneline rush to come. It didn't. I did everything methodically. I called Parker's Dad, I called James and told him I needed him to come take me to the airport in the morning and stay at my house and care for the dogs while I was gone. I made my plane reservations for first thing the next morning. I called my boss and almost laughed when I told him I had an emergency, but it wasn't my dad, it was Parker, and that I didn't know when I would be back. I washed my hair and blew it dry, not sure when I'd get another shower. I packed and re-packed my suitcase about five times. I did the dishes. I emailed my boss with all the instructions of things I was working on, interviews I had scheduled over the next couple of days, everything I could think of.

I resisted calling the hospital a thousand times because I'd already spoken to the ER and they really wouldn't tell me anything. I didn't want them to tell Parker I'd been calling and have it make him more anxious. About 2:AM I finally did call and asked Cooper, his nurse, to tell him I was coming first thing in the morning. I explained I was 2000 miles away and I knew it would help him relax because he lived in Austin all alone. Cooper, thank you for telling him. It did help.

I didn't sleep until I was on the plane. I don't remember much of the flight except that I woke up once and took an extra airplane drug because I didn't want to think about what might be happening in the little hospital in Austin while I was 40,000' up in the air. When I landed I went outside baggage to meet Jamie, Parker's best friend, who was picking me up. I had already told her I would wear my hot pink polo shirt so she should look for the person who loooked like a big pimple coming out the door. When she walked toward me I knew it was her. I recognized her face from the photo Parker sent me, even though in the photo her middle finger covered up much of her face.

After the fastest drive on an Austin highway I ever experienced, we arrived at the hospital. The hospital is caddy corner to where Ben White Florist used to be located. I worked there for 3 years ~ almost 30 years ago. Ben White Blvd is now a highway. It was surreal, knowing where I was but not recognizing any of it.

The elevator couldn't go fast enough to get to the third floor. I cracked the door to Parker's room and saw him laying on the hospital bed, bare naked except a sheet draped over his legs. For one split second it looked like he was laid out in the morgue. He turned and looked at me and I said, "Hi honey, I'm here, it's okay."

It wasn't until then, that very second, that I let the tiniest bit of emotion rise to the surface. That's all I've allowed so far. Not sure when the rest will come. But when your child is ill, you are still a Mom. It doesn't matter how old they are. You still clean up the throw up, you still spoon feed them applesauce when they can't manage it themselves because of the pain. You still ask the doctor the questions and you still write down everything the doctors and nurses say in a notebook. Because no matter how old, no matter how far away, our children will forever be our children.

The Osprey Story

Raising my two sons alone was never more challenging than the first few years after my ex-husband remarried. I made a lot of trips to Bay Head during that time.

Before Mom and Dad moved there permanently, the house, my family history and the ocean across the street were always a source of refuge for me. It was the place I went to heal, to rejuvenate, to stand on the edge of the ocean and realize my problems really weren't so huge after all. I would arrive in Bay Head bruised and battered (emotionally) and leave filled with hope and renewed energy to tackle the most important job of my life: raising my two beautiful boys.

One of the great things about Bay Head used to be the serenity and peacefulness I found when I was there. My mother, much to her dismay, is NOT one of the few people I can be "alone" with. She takes a lot of energy to be around, so when I am worn out I avoid her.

It was one such day when I was in Bay Head sometime in the mid-1990's. I needed some serious alone time, I had a lot on my mind and felt the world was tearing me down bit by bit. I was questioning my ability to raise my boys successfully by myself, and generally feeling whooped. So I took a chair and a blanket and plunked myself down at the edge of the ocean, hoping its magnitude would soothe my weary soul.I learned that day that God teaches us things we may not know we need to learn. Like what we deserve out of life.

While I was sitting in my chair, waiting for the magic to happen, watching the waves roll in and go back out, I became aware of someone sitting behind me. Because he was so quiet and respectful of my need to be alone, I knew it was my Dad. I knew he was there, behind me, literally and figuratively.

I was watching an osprey fly above the water. Every once in a while he would pause, then dive straight down into the ocean and come back up almost in the same spot. Obviously he was looking for dinner. After two or three attempts, he finally came up with a fat white fish flopping about, clutched between his two feet. He flew over to the shore and landed about 20' away from where I was sitting.

Flinging the fish down hard on the sand, the osprey began to jump on top of him, beating him with his wings, hitting the fish's head with his beak, clawing at him until at last the fish lay still. He'd put up a good fight, but in the end, dinner was served.

I fully expected the osprey to dig in and start pulling the flesh away from the fish. In fact I was almost grossed out by the thought and wasn't sure I wanted to watch. But instead, he quickly backed away across the sand. I hadn't seen his wife waiting off to the side, but there she was. The boy osprey had killed the fish for his wife, then gallantly moved away to allow her to come forward and peck away at her dinner.

The female, brown and homely, was very tidy in the way she ate, and completely unaware that the entire bird population on the east coast knew there was a dead fish on the sand. Flocks of birds appeared out of no where, crying, calling to each other, screaming ~ and one by one that male osprey fought them off while his wife ate the dinner he had killed for her. Time after time he stretched his wings out to each side and ran at a group of birds trying to approach on the sand. Then he turned and ran after the next group, on and on until his wife at last was full. Only then did he take a quick nibble at the fish himself.

It was truly an amazing thing to see and I was speechless. I was filled with awe for these birds who marry for life. But what became the miracle for me, the message I knew I needed to hear, came from behind me, from my father who had watched this amazing display of love and courage and gallantry with me.

In his very soft voice, he simply said, "You ought to marry that bird."

I love you too, Dad.

Water Cooler Humor

I have an ongoing battle with all the young men at work who are (barf!) Redskin fans. Over the course of last football season I had to learn to strike back creatively, so I started using the water cooler as a weapon.

I started by wrapping my Cowboys scarf around the cooler, just to literally rub it in their faces that my 'Boys are far superior to their 'Skins! Later in the season I would tape newspaper articles (always pro-Cowboys or anything poking fun at the Redskins) to the front of the cooler and hang my scarf, or a Cowboys necklace from the top to taunt them. There were days when they slunk past my desk to get some water with their heads hung low, eyes on the floor so they didn't have to look at me. These were my favorite days. :-)

After I bought my pink T.O. t-shirt with the slogan "Get Your Popcorn Ready!" on the front I taped it to the cooler on the days my favorite player, Terrel Owens, showed why he is a superstar. Like after catching a ball 20' over his head, balancing it on his helmet and running down the field into the end zone for a touchdown.

Today's water cooler looked like this:




I'm sorry to see him go.

Muse Wall

This is a photo I just took of the beginnings of my Muse Wall in the new house. I have this great big empty wall with high ceilings in front of my computer and I decided to do this wall a little different than the last house. This time I am laminating and mounting the photos. So I have a long, long way to go before I am done.

In case you are wondering how I pick the photos that go on this wall, the common denominators are that A.) I took all these photos myself, and B.) Each one of them represents something about my life that is motivating me to finish my book. Each of them stirs something up in my heart that reminds me to keep going when I feel like I can't do it anymore.

Top left photo is one of the first I ever took in Wyoming. It was taken at Schwabachers, which we found by mistake. The photo was a surprise, too, because when I took it I didn't realize the reflection of the mountains would come through on the photo. It was this photo that made me interested in photography.

Right underneath is a photo of Dad taken in Mexico. I now own the shirt he is wearing (see notes below). I don't think I will be done with the book before he goes, but his pride in me is the thing that motivates me the most.

* There is a photo of my lovely niece, Kensie, taken last summer in Wyoming.
* The very blue photo of the Snake River and the Tetons was taken from the back of a horse named Ginger on one of my favorite rides ever. It is views like this that make me know I am supposed to live there, in the shadow of those mountains.
* The lupine photo is one of my favorites, taken out by Mormon Row last summer.
* Right above that is a photo of my perfect Peach in the snow at the new house.
* To the right is a photo of a baby deer hiding in the grass along the side of Spirit Dance Rd.
* Wild mountain bluebells (I waited 6 years to get back to WY at just the right time to get that photo!)
* Below that the horses running out for the evening at TriangleX with the Tetons in the distance. * To the right is a photo of Craig and James taken on one of those special single parent days when we all went sledding and drank hot chocolate.
* And last, for now, is the rooster place where Mom, Dad, Ash and I found in Vermont when we went on a trip in 2005.

More to come. This is just the start. Evetually the whole wall will be filled with my photos that I can glance up at as I type happily away on Book II!!!!!

The Magic Shirt

This may look like just an ordinary red shirt to you, hanging on the back of the door. But this shirt is extraordinary! It almost has magical powers. Tis true. For real.

Dad gave me this shirt, it was his. Mom has always tried to push her clothes off onto me and Ashley and neither one of us want to wear them. They are old lady clothes, for one. And two ~ I'm a tomboy! I HATE lady clothes!

So one day a year or so ago when I was in Bay Head, Mom tried to give me a bunch of clothes. I declined as nicely as I could, then ran to hide in my room. An hour later Dad knocks on the door. I open to find him standing in the hallway with a sheepish look on his face, and in his arms is a big stack his old polo shirts. The red one was on top. He said, "Mom thought you might like these."

Of course I took them, and of course it was a set up. As soon as they were in my hands Dad said, "Oh golly, I told Mom you wouldn't take my clothes either."

Argh! Damn bitch set us up! Just to pay her back for being so self centered and evil, I kept the shirts and wore the red one the rest of the time I was visiting them. Just to be a pissy ass bitch myself.

The weird thing was, I got some of my best writing done that weekend, when I was wearing the red shirt. The words just flew from my heart and soul and spilled out onto the paper looking like a seasoned writer's polished novel. I was so happy with everything that I started to wear the red short every time I wrote.

Now, there is a noticeable difference when I write while wearing the red shirt, and when I write without wearing it. It's my lucky shirt, my creative muse, my happy place and comfort food all rolled up into one. I think I'll wear it to the Princeton conference the end of this month. That'll show them!

Nice Surprises Today

It's Dad's 84th birthday. There was a time we didn't think he'd be here for this day. It seems fitting that I would see and experience things today that made me smile and made me feel well cared for.

I'm not used to having someone do things for me, like move bookcases back against the wall, or change light bulbs on my outside light. Not used to someone shoveling my walkway either, and it was such a nice surprise to come home from work on this super snowy day and find the walkway all the way to my door shoveled and cleaned off!

That makes me think about the osprey story, which I will write on another day. But I know Dad would be very appreciative of the people who do those kinds of nice things for me.

Speaking of the osprey story, I saw on Facebook that today is Norm St. Landau's birthday, too. Another of my favorite people born on this day.

Then one of the nicest surprises of the day was getting this lovely photo of Peach in the snow this evening. The kind of photo you wait years to get. I'm having two enlargements made and will send one to Ed Briggs, who I bought her from. Peach's mother, Misty, is dying from cancer, so I think he will appreciate the photo.

Maybe I'll send one to Dad, too. Happy Birthday Dad!