Family Remedies

My eldest sent me a text this week about one of her cats and an injury it had sustained.  "Gumbo has a boo boo" were her exact words.  She instructed her husband to put Neosporin on it "because it will grow back lost body parts." He had never heard that particular inside family joke. His response was to Google if it's safe to put on cats.  As a matter of fact, it is. My mother would be proud.  She used it for everything. It does NOT, however, grow back lost body parts. Not for lack of trying on her part, though. She never recovered the last section of her index finger that was taken off by her Bassett hound, Wilber. (She probably blamed that on the fact the hospital ER did not use Neosporin in a timely fashion!)

The fact that my daughter remembered my mother's favorite first aid remedy took me on a stroll down memory lane. Both of my grandmothers had a favorite topical treatment. My father's mother preferred Dr. Tichenor's. (I love a company with a sense of humor.  This website just made me smile.) She kept a bottle in her bathroom medicine cabinet.  She used it as a mouthwash. As a child, I recall being lured in by the peppermint smell, then shocked by the experience of the actual taste! *Shiver* But if my brother or I scraped a knee or got bitten by mosquitoes or ants, that bottle came out, accompanied by a large cotton ball to dab it on with.

My mother's mother used a different remedy:  S.T.37. (*sigh* Alas, no sense of humor with this link.) It came in a beautiful blue glass bottle and smelled so sweet. Like the Dr. Tichenor's across town, it lived in the bathroom medicine cabinet and was applied with a cotton ball when not being used as a mouth wash. It was used liberally on the skin ailment of a certain dachshund residing in her household. He didn't seem to mind it a bit. Until recently, I had no idea that S.T.37 was still on the market. I was having a prescription filled at our local pharmacy, Edwards Discount Drugs, and happened to see it on the shelf. (note: if you have never experienced a local pharmacy, you owe yourself a visit. Edwards has a soda fountain and diner, as well as a nice gift section and gun department - a little something for everyone!)

I suppose if I had to name my go-to remedy for cuts and scrapes, it would be the generic bottle of hydrogen peroxide under my sink.  Yes, I have a small tube of Neosporin in the Band-Aid box, but I'm much more likely to open the peroxide bottle and just pour it on my finger over the sink. 

I know: no imagination . . . no magic. I think my daughters enjoy the idea of the mythical properties my mother attributed to her favorite. 

Fireworks

I think tonight is the first time I will have gone to see 4th of July fireworks since 2007.  That year my mom came to spend some time with us and we all went up to Lucedale to see the big display.

What a difference a year makes...

The following year, we had just returned home from her funeral on the 4th and I was not in the mood for celebrating.  The girls made plans to go without me.  I was fine with that (or as fine as I was going to get for a while.)  I'm not sure what I was doing on the 4th in 2009, but I'm pretty sure it didn't include the fireworks display.

Last year, all my girls went up to Starkville and spent the 4th with school friends of the eldest.  Mr. H and I stayed home and enjoyed the time alone.

This year, I think I'm ready.  But I can already feel the sorrow creeping up on me.  I still remember that last Independence Day I shared with her.  It's amazing how that feeling of loss will stab you sharply when you least expect it.

Humming Birds and Phone Calls

Today I noticed that the humming bird feeder was empty.  Well, actually I noticed earlier it in the week, but today is the first time I've done something about it.

I put the water in the microwave to boil.  I'm not sure that this step is necessary, but it does help the sugar dissolve really quickly, so I do it anyway.

As I measured out the sugar, I thought of my mom.  Every time she wanted to make humming bird food, she called me for the recipe.  I repeat, every time.  I even wrote it out for her and stuck it on the side of her microwave.  She still called.  "Two cups of water and 1/2 cup of sugar, Mom."

I don't think it ever occurred to me at the time that the hummer food recipe was just an excuse to call and talk to me.  I'd love to be able to pick up the phone and call her and say, "Hi, Mom.  Have you fed your hummingbirds lately?  Let me tell you how to make it."

Mom - Sandra Coy

Today would have been my mom's 73rd birthday.  She shares the date with Abraham Lincoln.  I remember her being teased by my dad that she and Abe were the same age.  Considering that she never looked as old as she actually was, she always took the joke with a smile.

My mom was a funny combination of traits.  Her job for several decades was maintaining the file room for Mississippi Valley Title Insurance Company.  This was back when everything was on paper, which was placed in a manila folder, and then filed according to some numerical scheme in a forest of metal shelves.  And my mother was in charge of being able to retrieve any given document. 

What I find amazing is that my mother, who could never keep up with her coffee cup, car keys or glasses, could locate anything you wanted in that file room.  Even now, if I take my cup of coffee with me and leave it somewhere in the house, whoever finds it will bring it to me and call me "Sandra."

Mom was a dancer when she was a child.

Here she is as Uncle Sam, probably between 1949 and 1951, when she was around 12 years old.  This is one of my favorites of her.
 

In addition to dancing, Mom could also play the ukulele.  I think I only ever heard her play 2 songs, though:  The Bed Bugs and Mosquitoes Song, and Five Foot Two.  I've learned the Bed Bug Song.  I guess now I need to learn Five Foot Two. 

Oh!  And she had another unique talent.  She is one of the few people that I know who could actually do what a paddle ball was intended for.  With the string at its full length, Mom could keep that ball bouncing for as long as you cared to stand there watching.  How many people can do that?

These are some of my other favorite pictures of her.  They seem to capture the Real her!

Happy Birthday, Mom...

Flower Boxes

My Mom and I didn't have very similar tastes on many things.  And after having been married with a house of my own for almost 28 years, I don't have the need nor the space for much of what's in Mom's house.

There is a notable exception, however.

I have always loved these concrete flower boxes.  I seem to remember seeing them at my Grandmother Louise's house, but I'm not certain.  I don't think they are something Mom would have bought herself, but she had a hard time letting go of her mother's things.

My mom did not have a green thumb, by the way.  I can't remember anything specific she ever planted in these boxes.  But I've always liked them.

When we built our house, we used a lot of concrete.  Our floors are stained concrete. Our counter tops in the kitchen and bathrooms are concrete (mixed in a wheel barrow in the front yard and toted inside in 5 gallon buckets to be poured into the mold Mr. H built).  When the girls asked what we were going to do for a fireplace surround, their dad said, "Concrete, of course."  He meant it as a joke, but we actually did make it from concrete, too!

So the concrete flower boxes are right at home here.  All the flowers I planted in them are doing well (so far!)  The plantain lily even has a flower bud waiting to bloom.  I'm excited to see it.  I'll post pictures when it opens.

Provision

The following is the testimony that I gave in church last night. A testimony is what God is doing in your life right now. If yours hasn't changed since you were first saved, wake up and look around. You're bound to have missed something.

I’ve always been a WORD person. I love words. I love to know exactly what a specific word means. I love to know where a word comes from and how its meaning has changed over time.
What do you think of when you hear the word PROVISION?
Something provided.
A means for meeting a need.
In the old west, when you were getting a wagon train together, provisions were food.
I found this definition the most interesting of all: arrangement or preparation BEFOREHAND, for the doing of something or the meeting of needs. Remember that word BEFOREHAND.
I also looked up synonyms for provision: plan, preparation and ... bread!

Last summer I was the beneficiary of the Lord’s provision in more ways than I knew at the time. On May 29th, Mr. H and I were at a restaurant for our 26th anniversary. Our main topic of discussion was my mom, who had been admitted to the hospital in Brandon that day. That day would be the last normal day for me for the next 6 weeks. Six weeks doesn’t sound very long but going through it seemed endless. And already, the provision was there.

My children were old enough for me to leave them to themselves for a while. My husband has always been understanding of my need to take care of my mom, especially after my dad passed away. My co-workers (and even some people who didn’t work at the church) were supportive and willing to take on my responsibilities while I was gone. I left to take care of Mom.

While I was gone, VBS came and went. I have led the music rotation of VBS for more years than I can remember. That year God provided a young lady still in high school as the music leader. He had been getting her ready for that role for a while.

Mom was released from the hospital, but after a few days with her, I knew she couldn’t take care of herself. So on Father’s Day, my husband graciously brought his mother-in-law to live in his house. During the time she was home with us, I didn’t eat much and slept even less. Without God’s provision, I would not have been able to care for her like she needed.

This seems to be full of “I” and “me.” When the world closes in on you at times like that, you lose perspective. You get a kind of tunnel vision, like looking through a narrow tube. You can’t see beyond yourself.

During those weeks, I don’t ever remember calling out for God. You call out for Someone who is far away. For Someone Who is right there, you don’t have to call out: you just lean on Him without thinking. And that’s what I did. You accept the comfort His presence offers, even when it doesn’t feel comfortable. You let Him lead when you’re too weary to know what to do or which way to go.

God took Mom home on a Sunday morning. She was back in the hospital, but down here in George County. God had provided an ICU nurse on that shift who was a neighbor of mine, so he knew just how long it would take us to get from home to the hospital. Dr. T was there for my brother and me. He came to the hospital to deliver some of God’s comfort in person before having to head back to the church to preach.

I left the hospital for the last time about 11:30 that morning. I knew there was no one at my house. My family was where they always are on Sunday morning. I knew exactly where I was headed: right here. Church wasn’t over yet and the hallways were mostly empty. Mark saw me come in the preschool building and went off to find Mr. H. I found El’s classroom and her teacher took me right in. That was God’s provision again. He had planned ahead for me. He had provided this church family for me to come home to.

Nothing takes Him by surprise. He has plans for it all. He has planned ahead for everything you’ll ever need. He has bread for you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jesus is the Bread of Life. He is the ultimate Provision, the perfect Supply for all the things we truly need. He will always be there for you. All you have to do is ask.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today is Mom's birthday. She would have been 71 years old. We used to kid her that she was as old as Abraham Lincoln! He would have been 200 today. She looks like she's having cake, so I thought this one would be appropriate for the occasion.

I posted some other older photos of her last summer, too. She was so photogenic.

Almost Over

This day is almost over.

I tried not to think about it.

I tried not to think about who wasn't here.

Something positive: because of the frost a few nights ago, all the plants on the front porch are gone now. They were all from the funeral. I didn't realize how much I hated looking at those plants. I didn't know it would be such a relief not to have them there, reminding me ...

Isn't that ridiculous? Maybe so, but true nonetheless.

And isn't it odd that I miss my mother so much more than my dad, when I was always closer to Dad? Maybe because she leaned more heavily on me after his passing and now I miss the weight. I miss her calling to ask what day it was, when we were coming to visit, telling me what the cats did and what she thought about the neighbors.

She always called on holidays we weren't together. She didn't call today.

Mom & the Lion

Okay...
Here's a picture of my mom that I'd never seen until I was looking through an old shoebox of pictures.Why have I never seen this picture? Why do I not know why my mother is holding a lion cub that looks like it weighs as much as she does? Why do I not know a great story to go with this picture? She certainly looks like she's having more fun than the feline.
There is nothing on the back to tell me when or where it was taken. I'm assuming it was either at a Shrine clown convention (my dad was a real clown) or maybe when the circus came to town. Inquiring minds want to know.

Collections

Mr. H and I spent the weekend at Mom's house cleaning out closets and dressers. We loaded up clothes from 2 closets and put them in bags in the bed of her truck. I wish I had taken a picture of that. The bed of the truck is heaped with bags of clothes. My brother is taking them to the Stewpot for distribution to anyone who needs them. Check out this picture of the white tennis shoes. There must be 15 pairs, most of them incredibly similar. And that doesn't count the shoes that are NOT white tennies! Just call her Imelda.

Quite a few years ago, Mom had a Bassett hound named Wilbur. In the middle of the night, she came into the kitchen, scaring him, and he attacked her, biting off the first joint of her right index finger. Mom did quite a bit of typing at the time and the missing 3/4 of an inch made it awkward. She used a little blue fingertip on that finger to make it the same length as the others. She had these little tips everywhere. I had already thrown away at least 10 of them when I starting counting. After I took this picture of 13, I found 2 more in the kitchen. Once, after she had spent the weekend with us, the girls and I went to Wal-Mart. As one of the girls opened the car door, one of those little fingertips fell out into the parking lot. L said, "Look, one of Maw-Maw's fingers fell out!" We laughed all the way into the store, wondering if someone overhearing that comment would think we had the rest of her in the trunk!

We had taken care of Dad's clothes 2 years ago after he passed away, but the rest of his "stuff" was still there in his dresser. I don't know exactly how many knives he owned, but here is a part of his collection. Some of them we have given away to guys who like that sort of thing. We also found about 20 brass belt buckles and a matchbook collection that filled a 2 liter bottle with the spout cut off. Along with pocket or belt knives, Dad also liked kitchen knives. I have about 6 or 7 sharp kitchen knives. I understand that you need different knives for different things: slicing bread, chopping vegetables, cutting meat. This is the knife drawer at my parents' house. Too much of a good thing!

I'm not trying to be disrespectful to their memory. If they had been there with me, taking care of this situation, they would have been laughing with me.

More than a Thousand Words

This is the picture of Mom that we chose to appear in the paper. I'm so glad we did. A friend of mine who moved to the Jackson area several years ago saw the picture in the paper that morning and decided she needed to read more about this lady. When she got to the last paragraph, she was surprised to see my name. When I got to the funeral home Thursday, this friend was there waiting for me, all because she saw Mom the way my brother and I wanted to remember her.

A picture can be worth so much more than a thousand words.

Old Friends

I grew up on Hanging Moss Circle. Next door to us was a family with 5 boys. The youngest was my age and the next oldest was just one year older. They all played baseball, ran track, were all good athletes. Sam & Thomas & I were buddies from the time I was 3 years old until we went off to separate colleges. Their dad always scared me when I was little. I don't know why.

Tonight, I noticed 2 men come in together. They stood off to the side and every time I looked their way, they were looking at me. I went over to them and the tallest told me his name. It was my old buddy Sam. I picked the wrong older brother's name, but I had never been really close to any of the older 3 when I was a kid. We had been talking a few minutes, when I recognized their dad coming in with Thomas, who is one year older than me. Those 2 I picked out right away. I spent just about the rest of the night talking to these men from my past. We remembered so many of the same events from our childhoods.

On the way to the funeral home this afternoon, I had started to feel sick. I was dreading this ordeal. But the reality was so different. I got to see my uncles, probably for the last time after tomorrow. They live so far away and now have no one to bring them back here. I reconnected with the first friends I ever had and hadn't seen in over 25 years. I feel much better about facing tomorrow.

The Real Them

I found this picture of my mom and dad in my office this morning. My eldest suggested that I scan it and post it here. This was made about 6 or 7 years ago (maybe as long ago as 10). Mom's office staff was at the skating rink. This picture is just who my parents are. My mom was always having fun and my dad was always enjoying watching her. She was willing to try ice skating. He was willing to help her put on the skates.We've made the funeral arrangements: visitation at Lakewood Funeral Home Wednesday night from 6pm to 8pm, funeral Thursday at 2pm at Lakewood. That's on Clinton Blvd. Mom's brothers from are traveling down from Pennsylvania and Virginia. I'm glad the girls will have a chance to meet her oldest brother. I don't think M & L have ever met Jere, who lives in Lynchburg, VA. They know Mom's younger brother Ed who lived in New Orleans until Katrina. He lived here with Mom for several months, then he relocated to Lancaster, PA.

My Mom

I wanted y'all to see my mom the way I'll always think of her. She has always been a cutie, very petite. She was one of the feistiest ladies I ever knew. She would always say just exactly what was on her mind. You never had to wonder where you stood with her. I think she got that from her mother, because my Grandmother Louise was just like that, too. I'll have to look through some of her pictures and more of mine and scan them to post here. Until the last couple of years, she always looked younger than she really was. That was her favorite game at the fair: the age guessing. The year that she was 32, they guessed her as 23. I think she won a prize every year she went to the fair. I'll always think of her as a princess in need of rescue. Her dad (my Pa-pa Ace) and then my dad always took care of her. I should have moved more firmly into that role myself when my dad passed away, but I didn't want to "tell her what to do." I'm a rather independent sort and tend to project that onto others, whether they are like that or not.

I plan on looking at as many old pictures of her as I can in the next few days. I want to remember the beautiful woman that I grew up with, not the frail little woman that she was in recent days. She took great pride in her ability to play the ukulele and play with a bolo bat (you know: the wooden paddle with the little ball attached by a long rubber band). I think she was the only person I have EVER known that could keep the ball bouncing off that paddle for any length of time. That is the woman that was my mother.

Hospitals are horrible places. There is no place to be private. Your conversations with doctors and family and friends all are right out there for everyone to hear. And you can't get away from the grief of other families. We're all there together and for some there is no escape in sight. I know my mom feels that way. I wish I could make it better for her, but I don't know how. She keeps saying, "Help me." I wish I could.

At the present time, Mom's liver function and kidney function are questionable. She's jaundiced and starting to get puffy. We're hoping her stitches and staples will hold in her fragile tissues. She hates having her hands restrained, but they are afraid she'll pull something out that can't be redone. I hope things can turn around but I don't know. Keep us in your prayers.

A Little Less of Mom

Some days, you wake up thinking everything is the same and POW, something hits you. I went to the hospital yesterday thinking it would be more of the same: visit a while, go to work a while, come back and visit a while, go home and be Mom to MY kids. Wrong...

When I got to the hospital at 8 am, Dr. C (my favorite surgeon) wanted to take a look inside Mom's stomach to see what exactly was going on. She was stable enough for an EGD by then. Amazingly enough, they were actually doing scope by 9! (Here's what I love about small towns: the anesthesiologist's daughter was on the quiz bowl team with my eldest, one of the nurses' daughter graduated with the eldest, another nurse is a friend of mine from church, and have I mentioned that Dr. C's son was in L's class this past school year.)

In 10 minutes, Dr. C was out telling me the bad news. Most of Mom's stomach was necrotic (dead) tissue. They needed to remove the dead tissue, and fast. I wondered if she were strong enough for surgery and he said there was no choice. She was much more stable by then than she was when we first brought her in, but this was life-saving surgery and without it, there was no chance. He drew me some pictures and was on his way. Then he turned around and said, "While you're praying for your mother, pray for her doctor, too." You got it, dude!

The surgery seemed to last forever, well from about 10 until about 3. The doc came out and told me just how much of her stomach they removed and what they had to repair in the process. She'll be eating just a few bites at a time for the rest of her life. I got to go see her at 5. She had to big oxygen mask on (surgery patients tend to breathe through their mouths so the nasal O2 just doesn't get it done) and her hands were restrained. Because they had to remove so much of her stomach there wasn't much wiggle room for the tube that was aspirating through her nose. NO ONE was allowed to touch it and they were afraid she'd do some real damage to their work. She kept saying, "I need to get up!" How do you convince your mom that even if she weren't attached to the bed, she couldn't move much under her own power?

When I went back at 8, they had taken the big mask off and she was back on the nasal O2. I must say that for as much surgery as she had just undergone, she was more aware of her surroundings than she has been for the past week. I just hope that all her tissues are able to hold the stitches and staples until they heal. The steroids that Lupus patients have to take tend to break down the tissues: thin skin on the outside and just as thin for muscles and organs inside. I am encouraged by my visit last night. I'm hoping to have a good talk this morning.

Listen When He Speaks

I got a card in the mail today from a friend. In it, she said that the Lord had put me on her heart that day and that she had said a special prayer for me and my mom. I looked at the date: it was the 24th of June. That was the day I reached the limit of what I could do for my mom. That was the day she went to the hospital and was admitted to the ICU. That was the day that, if someone else hadn't been in charge, I don't think Mom would have made it.

What if my friend hadn't prayed especially for me and Mom that day? I don't want to know... don't want to think about the possibilities. The fact is, she did, and God heard her prayer. He sent a nurse to our house that day and she helped me get Mom into the car and to the hospital. He had a doctor waiting in the Emergency Room who ordered a test that showed just what the problem was. He had a surgeon there who was willing to look at things in a non-surgical way and suggest a different treatment. He took control of a situation that I had no control over...because one of His children listened to His call to lift up the name of a friend. There were probably lots of people praying for Mom and me that day. She is the one I know that did for certain. When the Lord puts someone in your head and heart, stop and pray for them right then. You don't know the power that you might be releasing for that person to draw on.

Mom is still in ICU. She looks very fragile. She speaks in a whisper. She is so weak. But she is still here, still missing her kitties, still worrying about my family and my brother. I hated to leave her there alone tonight. I know she is in good hands, but they are still strangers' hands.

An Answer

Mom is now in the ICU at George Regional Medical Center. Yesterday in the ER they found the problem: a stomach obstruction. I'm wondering if this has been the problem for more than a month and her previous hospital missed it. Hopefully, when this is corrected, it will give us time to plan her move here instead of it being frenzied.

More info to follow when I have it.

P.S. The poem I posted yesterday was written when I was young. Mom wasn't a ballerina, but she was a dancer. The reason she wasn't a Radio City Music Hall Rockette is that she wasn't 5'3" tall. They have a height requirement.

Too Tired

I have just been too tired to do much of anything here. Mom doesn't seem to be making any improvement: just the opposite. Bright spot: The home health care nurse should be here in about an hour to make an assessment. Mom's funky insurance has been the holdup. If we have to, we'll pay for this out of pocket until July 1, when it converts back to plain old Medicare.

I haven't been just sitting around doing nothing, though. I think my bathroom floor had been scrubbed about 7 times (enough said!) I have washed and folded and put away at least 2 or 3 loads of clothes every day. I even cleaned the ceiling fans in the living room, which was not easy since they are hanging from a 10 foot ceiling.

I went to the grocery store last night. Mr. H wanted to come with me, but I was so afraid to leave Mom with just the girls, even the eldest. She can't really walk that well, even with the walker.

I made 2 concessions last night that I really didn't want to make. 1) I stopped by the church and borrowed a wheel chair. 2) Mom slept on the couch last night instead of in a bed. I guess I didn't want to depend on the chair, but my back and fear of letting Mom fall pushed me in that direction, that and the fact that Dr. T thought it might be a good idea. The past few nights it has been really hard to get Mom out of the bed when she calls (2 or 3 times every night). She can't roll over and her arms get in the way, and I just couldn't do it any more. Actually, on the recliner of the couch last night, she didn't call at all. I actually slept pretty well. It's a good thing, too. Today has not gone well. We'll see what the nurse tells us.

I thought that was the nurse driving up, but it was the UPS man. He brought the gasket for the freezer. I know what Mr. H will be doing tonight. Hooray!

I remembered that I wrote this about Mom a long time ago. She was a dancer since she was a little girl, used to win competitions on the Coast.

Prima Ballerina

The stage,

the lights,

the costumes,

the orchestra:

all much larger than

but all far less important than

the dancer.

Human motion perfected.

The supreme union

of power and grace.

Space is the canvas

of her creation:

seeming to fly

yet caressing the stage

upon which she performs.

She is a dancer,

an artist,

a little girl's dream,

my mother.

July 24, 1980

It Pays to be Nice

I have spent the day on the telephone. Since Mom has moved out of the area that her insurance covered, she can change Medicare Rx plans. I talked to the old plan folks, and they told me what to do. Except they told me wrong about setting up the new plan. They said call Social Security. When I did, the lady there fussed at me and asked why I was calling her with this situation, she didn't handle health plans, everyone was always passing the buck to them since they were a big nation-wide entity. Wow! That tirade was something I wasn't expecting! I apologized and explained that I was told to call her number and could she suggest another agency or number that could help me. I guess she wasn't expecting a civil answer, but her tone changed immediately. She told me to call Medicare and then carried on a bit more conversation than I really needed by that time about how many people call for so many unreasonable things. I thanked her again for her help and was glad to hang up. Whew!

The lady from Medicare was GREAT! She went through Mom's medications with me, helped me find a Rx plan that covered them all and then set Mom up on a new one. She was so helpful and friendly, I was impressed. I have plan numbers, confirmation numbers, and a few numbers that I'm not sure what they are, but by July 1, Mom will be covered here. I've changed her address with Social Security (which Ms. Medicare told me was important to have the address in sync) and I did that ONLINE, lest I accidentally get that other woman again.

For a day that started out with 1 hour of sleep, I feel I've done a whole day's work.