I Love My Computer

This little guy really has a great point. I began my first post on May 21, 2004... almost four years ago. I thought that I might leave something for my children to remember me by and perhaps make my generation more human to our great-grandchildren. Instead, I have found a wide world of wonderful writers, whom I read every day....thereby, lacking time to write anything myself. But, oh, how I love reading the talented people living out there in bloggityville. Funny writers like "Antique Mommy" (who was published in Good Housekeeping in August) and "Big Mama" keep me laughing with the antics of their children and the lovely way younger minds perceive daily life. My first love was Teri Franta of "Here's to Happy Women". She offered a weekly essay every Friday, which I was lucky enough to stumble upon, when she first began writing a blog. She has not been actively doing a weekly blog for some time, but I suspect that there is probably a book skulking about somewhere in the works. Through the comments left on their posts, other bloggers developed personalities and became very real to me, so I added Lisa from "A Comforter is Not a Bedspread" and Big Dave of "Big Dave's Blog" from Ann Arbor. Well, shucks... Ann Arbor is just a hop, skip and a jump from where I live in Ohio. We have a great time trading digs about Michigan and Ohio State, but we have arrived at a good place this year.... I will cheer for The Wolverines in the Capital One Bowl and he will cheer for my Buckeyes in the Championship game. Carine from "What's Cooking" is a friend from California like Teri, who actually has things published, too. Matty from "Running on Empty" ( isn't that a clever name?) and I met through comments on other peoples' blogs and I so admire her witty and thoughtful writing. I introduced her to The Dishing Divas (a cooking site) and their daily Fun Trivia game. We both love to play every day..... apparently, we are very trivial women! If you would like to play... let me know, and I will invite you into the game. Matty sent me over to "Cathy's Place" where I met Cathy and found her to be an insightful writer, passionately interested in St. Judes Hospital and a fellow Ohioan. She ran a challenge contest for an essay about "09/11/01" This made me very happy, because I won! Of course, I twisted every arm I could find on the INTERNET. Cathy has not been writing for a while and I am praying that her health improves, so she will be back with us soon. "Whirling Betty" and "Time with Shelby" came into my life by following comments from Teri's blog. Both Betty and Shelby have very interesting lives and their blogs reflect what point in life they are referencing. These people and many more have been kind enough to leave comments on my place here in bloggityland. I keep thinking of wonderful times that I would like to write about, but am afraid that if I did....my family would kill me. Perhaps, I will have to change the names to protect the innocent. People like Summer of "Life Thoughts" are wonderfully loyal to their readers, even though she is very busy with her cooking site and show, but she still finds time to comment , if I stir my lazy self and write something. "Loving Annie" checks in all the time --- I suspect she thinks I may have died, because we all know I am older than dirt! You have all made my life so much happier with your blogs and I am looking forward to 2008 and finding even more great bloggers. Someone writes a comment on a blog and that leads to another one and then another and on and on. Shucks! Who needs a library card?

To all who live in

my computer----

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Someday

" Someday"by Rick Vale

Someday, when this night is over,

And the stars have faded,

And the angels fly,

I will --- Look on You with wonder,

Dreaming of that first night,

When I heard you cry......

Someday, You will take these fingers,

And with just a touch ...

Cause the blind to see...

Someday, You will walk with strangers,

But tonight I rock you,

Stay awhile with me...

Someday, they will call You Savior,

Hope of all the people,

Light and Life Divine.

Someday, He will spread the words,

And touch the hearts of many...

As He touches mine.

You will ---Speak in love and wisdom,

Prison doors will open,

All will be made free.

Someday, you will walk among us,

But tonight I rock You;

Stay awhile with me.

I float in the miracle of God's love. Merry Christmas!

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

There's no place like home for the holidays, but our Ohio home (where our hearts and children are) is knee deep in snow and ice. Being just a little older than dirt, we finally got the okay from the doctors, packed up the car and beat it out of Ohio just about six hours ahead of the ice storm. Now, we have blue skies, sunshine and white sand by the mile. Admittedly, my tree is way less than I approve of, but the weather makes up for the deficit. For all the bloggers in bloggityville, enjoy your Christmas preparations --- I'll think of you when I see the weather reports on The Weather Channel. Meantime---let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! I'm dreaming of your white Christmas.

Signs of the Times

I went to the doctor's yesterday for a check-up on my recent vascular surgery. Since y'all are not dying to hear about my aches and pains, I thought you might like the notices on the doctor's door.

One said --- "Unattended children will be captured and used for medical experiments."

But, my favorite said, "Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy!"

Then, while driving home, we went past a car-wash with this sign prominently displayed, "Don't try this at home! We're professionals!"

I love it that the world is managing to keep a sense of humor.

Disgusting!

These pictures are not very clear, but this is something I saw on my deck this afternoon and I almost flipped out. Here in northwestern Ohio the leaves have fallen and the deck furniture is put to bed for the Winter. Lo and behold this squirrel appeared on the corner of the deck busily eating a small bird. He tore this little winged friend feather from feather before my very eyes. The pictures are lousy, because I had to slowly slide the screen door open without scaring him away and take the pictures through the glass. I Googled squirrel food and find that they are herbivores, except for the thirteen striped ground squirrel (a striped gopher). What is this world coming to? Ugh! I'll tell you one thing --- no more nuts and seeds from me for these blood thirsty creatures! It's just plain disgusting!

Just Pound Me Into the Ground

Sometimes, life seems to be handing you a bowl of cherries and other times, you are being pounded into the ground with a sledge hammer. Recently, it feels more like a bulldozer is after me and I am not running fast enough to keep ahead of the bad luck gremlins. We are taking things one catastrophe at a time, but I am weakening quickly. I had that little carotid endarterectomy in late August, but it leaked fluid into my clavicle and shoulder and I needed to start a bit of therapy. No big deal! The other half had his total knee done the 1st of October and is still going for physical therapy three times a week. He is really a tough old bird and by today has eliminated the need for the surgeon to knock him out and manipulate the joint. (It sounded really awful, so "my honey" has knocked himself out to attain complete mobility of that knee)

In the middle of this, my older brother was taken to Hospice in the evening of October 23rd. Nobody in his family was available to sit with him all night, so I decided that I would stay with him since I would not want to be alone if I were to die in a strange place. He passed away at 6:10 in the morning of the 24th while I held his hand. I don't know if he knew that I was there, but I knew. It was my 54th wedding anniversary. I want to thank my husband for knowing that I had to be with my brother on this special occasion.

I have been quietly losing my cool over the thought of packing for our six months in Florida. The bad part is that the vascular surgeon discovered an incidental finding an obstruction of my major artery that keeps my liver and other innards functioning. So, Monday morning I am having a celiac stent put into the artery right at my aorta. I understand that a bunch of dudes from the company that makes these things are going to be standing by laughing at my naked, old body to help the doc achieve this daring feat. Hopefully, I will still be alive at the end of the whole thing and be ready to make the southward migration to the Land of Sunshine and Golden Oldies. The AneurX procedure better work or when I wake up I will be facing a big surgery involving my aorta and ciliac arteries.

All of these things have been interrupting my routine and sleep, but I finished a whopping ironing and packed a couple of suitcases by last Saturday. I don't know how much I will be allowed to do after this surgical thingy, so I had to get ready. I don't mind packing for six months in another home when we have a Ford F150 and I can just take any volume of "stuff" with me. (If he can take golf clubs --- I can take a few sewing items --- like my Bernina and a few dozen yards of fabric) I am a quilter, after all. My anal retentive son figured out that we will spend an extra $600.00 by taking the truck instead of our Ford 500. Okay, I'll take less and be uncomfortable to save that money, but darn!

Early this morning, my youngest dingbat daughter called from New York, where she and her husband had gone to visit their son (a Junior at Nyack College) and catch a few shows. She had left her backpack in a New York taxi with her computer, good professional camera, police badges from all over the world, her Bible quizzing materials and her heart medicine. "Mom, would you call the cardiologist and give them a heads up that a New York pharmacy will be calling for a refill of my prescription?" I did and they informed me that they couldn't tell me anything due to HIPPA --- sheesh! It is an antiarrythmic, not narcotics!

We arrive at this afternoon, November 5th, 3:50p.m. and we are driving to the physical therapy place when an adorable young mother (7 1/2 months pregnant) with two kids in the back of an SUV ran a stop sign and smashed the be jabbers out of our lovely Ford 500. Nobody was hurt, but the car is a mess. You have to hand it to a really great driver ("my honey") for realizing that she was coming straight at his door and he gave it the gas and made a big right swerve. Our go to Florida car now has a smashed rear quarter panel, back door, back tire, rim and maybe axle. Quote the husband, "I hate to drive cars that have been in accidents!" This comes after forty-five years as a Ford salesman and then general manager of a large dealership. He drove new cars every year of our marriage until retirement. If you had your choice between a repaired wreck and a wonderful four-door F-150 truck ---- which would you choose? You tell me and I'll tell him. I'm beginning to lose it ---- definitely on overload!

All Things Unrelated

Fifty-four years ago today a little girl with a very devious mind snuck across the state line with a very cute young boy and got blood tests to obtain a marriage license. After a few small lies shadings of the truth, the license was obtained and the marriage did happen. On Wednesday, we will celebrate our 54th Anniversary with our children. These sort of marriages are doomed from the beginning, but somehow, we have survived and are still hanging in there. Our bodies are beginning to give out, but our minds are still in one piece each. (His mind had better agree with mine or I'll knock the stuffing out of him) Just kidding, he is my "Honey Bunny" and I love him more today than all those years ago.

Next on my unrelated list of stuff for today ---- The hubby had a total knee replacement three weeks ago and is beginning to get around on his own two feet with frequent rests and lots of Darvocet N 100. While he was in the hospital, I was reading the newspaper and came across an obituary in The Toledo Blade. There was a picture of a very handsome soldier from the World War I I think and a current picture of an elderly gentleman with this caption under the pictures. "Oh Crap, my name is finally in the obits." This is exactly what I would think, if my name were to appear in the obits!

Yesterday, we were out for an early dinner at P.F. Chang's (which is brand new in our area), but is well known to us from our time in Florida. Afterward, we stopped at a friend's house for a minute, but while leaving --- I must not have been paying attention to where I was going and I tripped and fell flat on my face in their cement driveway. I have always prided myself on my ability to recover from a stumble, but this time I went flying and hit about every place on a body that is on the anterior side. I actually hit my face on the cement and have a big ecchymotic area on my left cheek. Even though I am certain that nothing is broken, how am I going to explain a black and blue face to my friends at church in the morning?

I read on "Cathy's Place to Blog" that she is giving up blogging, at least for a while. Why do the people we love to read give up, while others with no talent keep going and going ---- like the Energizer Bunny"? I know I will miss her. How about you?

This is about it for my list of totally unrelated stuff today. I hope the muse will fall upon me again soon or I'll be joining Cathy.

Oh, yeah --- I made the bunnies in the picture.

Congratulations Matthew and Laura

One of my grandsons was married yesterday afternoon in a beautiful outdoor ceremony. Yes, they are young, but they are out of school and are working people. Today, they are off to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Congratulations Matthew and Laura! God loves you and so do we.

9/11 The End of Innocence or The Beginning of the End?

Cathy of "Cathy's Place to Blog" hosted a blog challenge for posts about 9/11/2001. I want to thank everyone who went to her blog site and voted for me. I won! I won! Okay, now I will humbly quit bragging (yeah, sure!) and tell you to check her blog for very interesting writing. Check her blog here.


September 11, 2001


It was shortly before nine, that Tuesday morning, when the phone began to jangle on my bedside table. Okay, so I was lolling about on my bed like Cleopatra on her barge. It was a time of life when there were no pressing reasons to leave the soft comfort of my quintessential retreat. I languidly answered and heard the excited voice of my youngest daughter. "A plane just flew into one of the Twin Towers in New York! Turn on your TV!" The horror unfolding before our eyes short-circuited the link between reality and belief. The child within wanted to deny that this could be happening even though our eyes watched the undeniable on the screen. How could such an accident happen? Stacey and I talked as we watched separately, yet bonded together in mutual sorrow for those who would never again talk with a loved one or cuddle deeply in their comfortable beds with a spouse, lover or child. People leapt from windows without hope of living, but in fear of dying from the flames left behind. American Airlines Flight 11 had ended at 8:46 am. As we watched and talked, we saw United Airlines Flight 175 hit the second tower at 9:03 --- the age of innocence ended as we realized there are people in the world who want us dead. American Flight 77 tore into the Pentagon Building at 9:37 and United Flight 93 plummeted into the ground in Pennsylvania at 10:06. This all occurred in one hour and twenty minutes, but would change the world as we know it forever. We cried together and finally hung up the phones, only to remain transfixed before the TVs. The words Muslim, elQuaida and terrorists began to filter into the reporters jargon and I searched my mind for what little knowledge I had of their activities.
Americans have attended their churches faithfully for hundreds of years and have heard the Biblical stories of the ancestors of Jesus; not thinking of the ramifications of the Old Testament lineage of Abraham and Sarah. Many people know only of Jesus' birth, death and resurrection. You know --- Christmas and Easter people. The faith of Abraham filtered down from King David to God's only son, Jesus, through many generations of Hebrews. When Abraham was eighty-six years old, he took (at Sarah's behest) Sarah's handmaiden (slave), Hagar. She bore a son, Ishmael. They thought this would fulfill God's promise of a son for Abraham in his old age, but no! God had promised a son through Abraham's legal wife, Sarah. It was accomplished when Abraham was one hundred years old and the child was named Isaac. Isaac's descendants are the Jewish Nation, of whom Jesus is one descendant .... the "new covenant" with God, from which the Christians spring. Ishmael and Hagar were cast out into the desert to become the Arab Nation. God promised Hagar that her son, Ishmael, would head many nations. This, from The Living Bible; God appeared to Hagar in Genesis 17:10-12, saying , "This son of yours will be a wild one --- free and untamed as a wild ass! He will be against everyone, and everyone will feel the same towards him. But, he will live near the rest of his kin." So, we know that the Arabs and the Jews are half-brothers, but surely the Arab Nation resents the inheritance of slavery as opposed to legitimate offspring of their forefather. The stage set over two thousand years ago endures between the Jews, Christians and the Arabs in lands all over the world to this day. The Barbary Pirates of the seventeenth century were Muslims, determined to acquire enough money to spread the word of the Qur'an telling the World of Allah through his prophet, Muhammad. Their Allah is the same God worshipped by Jews and Christians and Muhammad is their prophet, whom they consider to be the equivalent of our Jesus. However, Jews await the coming Messiah and Christians believe in the Trinity of God. . Early century Muslims were just as dedicated to their mission as they are today. Muslims have never rested in their zeal to rid the world of infidels, because they truly feel it is ordained by Allah that the world be ruled by their God. We must never cease to be vigilant, because the world, as we have know it, will never be the same. Our lives are frail as breath ... we gasp at the prospect of future attacks. What does God think of mankind's perversion of His love in His name? God have mercy. Was 9/11 the end of innocence or the beginning of the end?

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

I'm back online and almost raring to go. I chose green, because I feel green around the edges. I went to sleep telling the assorted and sundry operating room people medical jokes. Like the good news/bad news jokes of the surgeon hovering over his waking patient with good news/bad news.

The patient says, "Give me the bad news first!"

Doc says, "We had to amputate both your legs."

Patient says, "OMG, after that --- what could possibly be good?"

Doc says, "Your roommate wants to buy your slippers."

Needless to say, they shoved the sodium pentathol in as a bolus! The right carotid endarterectomy took almost three hours, because although the plaque was only at 55% --- it had begun to dissect (split away from a crater in the artery) and there was great danger of causing a massive stroke. Now, I really hate to brag, but will take poetic licence with this, because, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, you would cry, too, if it happened to you!" Seems to me I've heard that song before??? My doctor is a genius and people stack up in his waiting room on Tuesdays as though they were waiting for the Pope to bless them. I can't imagine that people from all over the country will come to Toledo, Ohio to see a vascular doctor, when there are famous places in big cities, who do vascular surgery. Ah, but his one does robotic surgeries like repairing aortic aneurysms with little bitty, band-aid incisions and he is an adorable Argentine. What a far cry from John Denver's "Saturday Night in Toledo, Ohio, is Like Being No place at All".

So, I have bragged about the doctor and will rave about the nurses in Constant Care and the staff in his office, but for those of you who will ever go to a hospital ---- make certain that your own family doctor has privileges at the hospital where the surgery will be done. Number One -- (Oh, no!---this sounds like a pun in the making) They took my Foley Catheter out the morning after surgery and then hung around like eighty-five grandmothers waiting for me to tinkle. A round of Lasix is usually guaranteed to make anyone pee, but when I finally felt like I had to go ---I only dribbled, but knew that my bladder was full. The resident doctors have apparently not had enough experience with Foleys to know that people have a bad time going the first day after removal. There are cute little ultrasound machines that they rub over your tummy after you have tried your best and it tells them that you have a ton of urine in your bladder. When I was in nursing school, this condition was called retention with overflow and it eventually resolved itself after a couple of straight caths. My resident doc, however, hung around like I was about to go into terminal nephritis. He called in a real Urologist, who politely left his card and suggested that I see him in three weeks. I'm sure Medicare will get a bill for this guy and I am not very happy about it, since I started peeing on my own by the next morning. Resident boy was still rambling on about fun things like bladder cancer, etc --- I wanted to smack him! It might have been seeing my age on the admission chart, but I was really insulted when he sent in occupational therapy --- "Do you need help with your daily activities?" Yeah, were you considering a maid or what? Next came physical therapy ----What in the world were they going to do for me? I could probably use some help putting on my roller blades. Then, he sent in a nutritionist to see if I understand the proper nutrition for geezers. You mean that Hershey Nuggets are not a balanced diet? I thought I mentioned that I am still a card carrying nurse. These different areas of hospital expertise are probably a legitimate way of getting a few extra bucks out of Medicare. Look out "Baby Boomers" --- there isn't going to be anything left for you at this rate!

What started the whole adversarial thing was my saying that I wanted to go home on oxygen for a few days. Quote from the resident dipstick, "You're not going home on O2!" A funny thing happens to me when I have anesthesia, I breathe very shallowly for several days and my O2 saturation drops to levels that are incompatible with life. But, gee, I have asthma and COPD and I know how to compensate for these problems, except when I have had anesthetic. Last time I had a carotid done (three years ago---when I was a very young 68), I came home without O2 and sat up all night, trying very hard to get enough air to stay alive. We got some tanks of oxygen and I used them for 2 or 3 days and happily sent them back. My bossy resident decided that if I need oxygen after surgery --- I must be in great need of a pulmonologist. Enter another great one followed by half a dozen students in his wake. Since I had a pulse-oximeter on my finger and we watched it drop to 69 to 78% when I got out of bed or tried to walk in the halls, we didn't need anyone else to tell me that I was not exchanging or perfusing oxygen in my lungs, yet. Needless to say, I came home from the hospital after four days with a bunch of oxygen tanks and enough tubing to walk downtown. This gave me great respiratory support for four days and then I kicked that cannula to the curb. It's going back very soon, since I exhibited the ability to huff and puff my O2 sats up to 97% at my first visit on Tuesday.

Let this be a lesson to each of you---- don't let the hospital's errand boys get their hands on you ---insist on your regular PCP, who knows all the little weird things about you. For now, I am getting better every day. I can do without the O2, I am eating small amounts of food, I am up for small amounts of time, but if these dang headaches don't go away --- I'm going to call that idiot resident and have him call in a neurosurgeon for a consult!

Addendum to Yesterday's Post

So, by now y'all know that I am going under the knife on Monday morning. Every place I turn, people are blogging about someones death, epitaph or impending doom. I
am reading a book titled "Under the Knife" by Diane Fanning. The main character's name is Dean in the book and there just happens to be a Hurricane Dean wending it's circuitous route through the Gulf of Mexico. I admit it gave me pause to think of the ramifications of all these coincidences. My husband has assured me that he has prayed about it and that I am going to be just fine, but he keeps giving me these loving glances that say, "I am memorizing your face, just in case you don't make it out of the O.R." Which leads me to say sweet things like, " Would you like me to teach you how to sort laundry just in case I die?" "I'll type up a paper for you that tells you how to work the computer --- could you just let my blogger friends know if I don't make it back home?" "We should really hit that great little restaurant after church tomorrow--- just in case, you know!" I have only had a couple of days to accomplish an abundance of things that are important to nobody except me. He has been dusting and vacuuming without a peep. He also played thirty-six holes yesterday and 24 holes today. You just cannot go into the valley of the shadow of death without your ironing done, taking your Bernina into the store for it's annual check-up or without a French manicure and filing the mountain of papers on the desk is a must for perfectionist type folks. Anyway, I am milking this for all it's worth. Dear Lord, please don't let the joke be on me!

Things are Moving too Fast!

Medicine is certainly a confusing patchwork of specialists, fancy tests and insanity these days. Since I have a bit of experience in the world of nursing, I know enough to gather up my own medical records and important tests into a file that will remind doctors what they did last. Things that happen to this old body are way more important to me than they are to any doctor or medical institution. It never ceases to amaze me that we are told by fancy physicians that something about us is important and they will be keeping an eye on the problem, only to have them forget why you have appeared in their office this year to check on some spurious condition. Couldn't they write on the front page of the chart--- "Don't forget that this patient's head is in danger of falling off in another year?" Do you get tired of that quizzical look that says, "What in the world could be wrong with you now?"

We live in Florida for six months at a time and then amble home to Ohio to have our doctors check on various and sundry old people complaints. Florida doesn't have enough doctors to keep up with the snowbirds who flock to their sunny shores, so I dutifully collect all our records and enough medicine to keep us going for another season each fall. As we are preparing to return to Ohio, I call ahead to make the appointments that are designed to keep us alive until next season. (Sort of like curb side restaurants) Since we arrived home in May, you would think that we would be done by June and call it a day with the medical experts. I have known that "My Honey" was going to have a total knee replacement (after the golf season and before the return to Flamingo Paradise), but I finally got to the right doctor this week to check on an old surgery and think about the reason for a sudden rise in my blood pressure. The PCP and the cardiologist didn't have a clue, so they said just keep taking the medicine and "Here's another pill or two to add to the upset" --- they'll see me next year. Not so with the vascular surgeon who reamed out my left carotid three years ago and is keeping the proverbial eye on the right one. He is such a busy and important man that I feel silly going to his office. Who would think that Toledo, Ohio has one of the rare vascular surgeons who does robotic surgeries? I have met people from all over this country in his waiting room, including one from Maine by way of Massachusetts General who came in need of this man. I have also waited in his office for up to five hours to see the great one. Why would anyone in their right mind wait that long? Because he is the one who looks at horses and sees Zebras. Where other doctors see someone who looks pretty healthy, but has some ridiculous symptom --- so they cut them loose until something important shows up, he gets a far away look in his eyes (like he is reading page 961 in the Internal Medicine Book) and orders an appropriate test.

Last week he ordered three dimensional CAT scans of my carotids and lower aortic branch arteries. But honestly doc,--- I feel pretty good! We saw him on Tuesday and he slapped the scans up on the light box and visibly paled. In his Argentine accent, he said, "This is not so good." On Wednesday, I was back at the cardiologist's getting clearance to have surgery sometime soon. Yesterday, I was back at the hospital having out-patient testing done pre-op. On Monday morning, he will be saving my life. That pesky right carotid has problems not seen by ordinary tests or felt by ordinary doctors, but dreamed of by this extraordinary doctor. There is a crater in the plaque that is causing the blood rushing up my neck to force a disection in a carotid that is not blocked enough to call attention to itself by the usual means. Am I scared? You betcha! Do I trust him? You betcha! But, I trust God even more and will abide by whichever prayer He decides to answer. If things go well on Monday, I will have to come home from Florida in four more months for a stent in my celiac artery (it goes from your aorta to your liver). I told you there were Zebras in my barn --- and this amazing doctor is the head zoo keeper.

I guess I am trying to tell you that you shouldn't be put off by a medical community that seems to be too involved with all the paperwork and too short on time to find what is the problem in your life. Keep dinging at them until someone listens to you. It's your life that they are messing with --- hold them accountable.

Tagged by a Blog Buddy

Carine over at What's Cooking? tagged me with a cute set of questions ---I hope they aren't all for baby boomers, because my kids are boomers, but I have a few bangs left in me!

1. What is your middle name?--- I don't have one! My parents named me for a friend and didn't know her middle name was Gertrude. Praise God!

2. What color pants are you wearing?---White clam diggers

3. What are you listening to now?---Some western movie is playing the den, but I'm not really listening to it.

4. What was the last thing you had to drink?---My addiction--- I always have a Coca Cola going with lots of ice.

5. Do you wish on Stars?---No, I believe that God controls my life.

6. If you were a crayon what color would you be?---Pink or peach.

7. How is the weather today?---In the middle 90's and humid, but I'm in

the A/C

8. Last person you spoke to on the phone?---my daughter, Lesley

9. Do you like the person that sent this to you?---yes, from everything I've

read about her!

10. Favorite drink---that dratted Classic Coke or Pepsi

11. Favorite sport---I love Tiger Woods playing golf! (I live on a

golf course)

12. Hair Color---childhood blond turned yucky with highlites courtesy

of Keith's Salon and some gray, courtesy of God

13. Siblings?--- I had 2 sisters and 2 brothers, but am down to 1 of each

14. Favorite month---I love May , it's a beautiful month in Ohio

15. Favorite Food?---my homemade Chocolate Pie

16. What was the last movie you saw in theaters?---"Knocked Up" (I'm

ashamed to say, but it was funny!)

17. Favorite day of the year?---any day I still wake up in the morning

18. What do you do to vent anger?---pick a fight with my husband

19. What was your favorite toy as a child?---rollerskates

20. Summer or Winter?---Summer--that's why we spend six months in

Florida

21. Hugs or kisses?--- Don't they both go together?

22. Car or motorcycle?---Car, but I do have a Honda 50

23. Chocolate or vanilla?---Chocolate

24. Do you want your friends to do this survey? I'm afraid they are already taken

25. Who is most likely to do this survey? --- Me, I need to get a life!

26. Who is least likely to respond?--- I don't know

27. When was the last time you cried?---about four years ago in Florida

and my grandkids still worry that I am unstable

28. What is under your bed?---moss green carpet

29. Who is the friend that you have had the longest?---my BFF, Elaine, from the 4th grade, about 60 years ago, but really my husband of

almost 54 years.

30.What did you do last night?--- Read a book.

31. What are you afraid of?---The money running out before life does.

32. Plain, buttered, or salted popcorn?---salted

33. Favorite car---Our Ford F150 truck---the ride is great, it has

heated seats and keyless entry

34. Favorite Flower?--- begonias in my decorative pots outside and

all my tropical plants around the house in Florida..

35 . How many keys on your keyring--- Four, but I never use them.

36. How many years at your job?--- Twenty years in a hospital after going

to nursing school at forty---retired now, but miss nursing

37. What did you do on your last birthday?---Out for dinner --- never do much---too close to Christmas

38. How many states have you lived in?---three

39. Did you have fun doing this?---It beats watching old westerns on TV.

40. To whom are you going to send this ? My Lacey Beth

The Wedding Shower

There was a wedding shower Saturday night. After having seven grandsons and one granddaughter (Thank You, Lord), the first one has finally embarked on the path to matrimony. At last, some females to offset the testerone around here. It was the most unusual shower I have ever attended. It was held in a Bead Store! We all were given $10.00 to start picking out beads to make a bracelet or a necklace with help from the staff. Then, we played the usual wedding shower games (at which I absolutely stink). There were lovely fresh fruits to dip in a fondue pot of chocolate, and cheese cubes, BBQ meatballs, petite fours and punch. After the fun and games, my new almost grand-daughter-in-law opened up some really great presents. Invitations had specified a particular time of day to buy a gift. Since I was 9:00 to midnight, I stayed away from Victoria's Secret.and gave her one of my king sized quilts. Here it is --- thrown over a queen size bed, so I know there is lots of room for a king. I think her mother wanted it, but I hope Laura likes it. (She is a real cutie)The fabrics are all batiks from India ,I think) and they cost an arm and leg. I have at least three other quilts waiting for someone to marry, but I have to finish four more before I am allowed to die. If I would stop playing on the computer with all you lovely bloggers and I could knock them out in half the time, but I'm not going to---I love you guys!

I've Been Tagged

Loving Annie tagged me for some fun. Here's the rules:

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*We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.

*Players start with eight random facts/ habits about themselves.

* People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

* Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged and to read your blog.

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Random Fact #1. At seventeen, I eloped with my school bus driver after dating him for six weeks by forging my parents' permission and stamping the permission with dad's notary seal. He was a lawyer.- I'm going to jail! That permission is still on file at the courthouse over the state line, but we are still married after almost fifty-four years.

Random Fact # 2. In high school, I was a gymnast and walked a slack wire (as opposed to a tight wire). I could do the splits, swing sideways with the wire across my feet, sit down, lie down and get back up. Now, I find it tough to get up from the floor.

Random Fact #3. I went to nursing school when I was forty after being a stay at home wife and mother for twenty-two years. When I started working in a hospital as a nurse, I would have done it for free. Luckily, they didn't ask me to forego the paycheck.

Random Fact #4. I am an extremely fussy eater. No salad dressings, ketchup, mayo, sour cream, pickles, tomatoes. I eat most things totally plain, but have found out that there are a bunch of people just like me and it is genetic thing. Picky eaters like me are a pain in the butt have a funky response to bitter. I used to think I was weird, but my oldest grandson tested me in freshman biology and discovered my genetic trait.

Random Fact #5. I am an expert seamstress. Quick pat me on the back, before I break my arm trying to do it myself I started sewing at twelve by copying my sister's shorts pieces onto newspaper, cutting up a roll of my mom's tea toweling fabric and sewing the seams by hand with a needle using back stitch. I have made everything from leather coats to a wedding dress. After many years of sewing clothes for myself and my family, I have gone over to quilting --- because quilts last forever and are meant to keep people you love warm.

Random Fact #6. Reading is my life long passion. I have read medicine bottles, if detained in the bathroom. I must read at night to fall asleep. The written word is a thing of beauty. That must be why I read so many blogs. I caught my daughter today with the word "antimacassar" --- she never heard of it. Have you?

Random Fact #7. We live half the year in Ohio and half in Florida. Whichever state I am in --- I worry about our home in the other state and desire to be there. I don't know which one is my favorite --- Ohio is bigger, on a golf course and the furniture is more expensive, but Florida is easier to care for and life is really relaxed without a condo association to argue about every little thing. I think Ohio has to win, because my children and grands live here.

Random Fact #8. I am a perfectionist, but am learning that I can't keep it up forever. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is older than dirt weak.

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Now, I tag these bloggers to carry on:

Matty

Teri

Big Dave

Momofalltrades

Carine

Summer

Molly

Betty

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FIRECRACKER!

July 4, 2007

She's fifty! She's fifty! She's fifty!

This is the child that I dreamed of, waited for, tried for over three years ( it was fun) and finally on a wonderful 4th of July, 1957 at 9:17 at night, God finally gave me the perfect child I had dreamed of having. We had started out wanting six children. I had thought a girl to start, a girl to finish and however many boys who would happen in the middle. Remember, I told you that I wanted to make clothes (I made this dress) and fuss with little girl's hair? Well, she was so beautiful, that I sewed far into the nights and fixed those pretty blond curls to my heart's content. She was a wonderful baby, but I found it hard to put her down for even a few minutes. I remember asking the doctor at six weeks, "How long will it be until I can safely go to the bathroom and leave her alone?" Motherhood took every minute of my day. She turned three a few days after my third child was born and I had thought that she was very grown up and helpful with the "little kids". She always seemed so self confident that I didn't know until recently about all the little insecurities she had as a child. Through the years she has mentioned how frightened she was if I had a baby sitter and left them alone for a couple of hours before her dad came home from work. Children today are brought up with day care from six weeks old until they marry and leave home. But in the early sixties, moms stayed home and the kids became very attached to their security blanket parent. For all the little things that frightened you, Lesley --- I am so sorry that I didn't see it or know that you were not old enough to know how safe you were. But, I am very flattered to know that I was her whole world.

One day when she was a preschooler, she was very bored and I told her that when she learned to read, she would never be bored again. She took me at my word and learned rapidly to be a voracious reader. By the end of the first grade, the librarian gave her special permission to read from the junior high area of the library and she read over 100 books that summer. The school gave state proficiency tests to the primary grades when she was in the second grade and her teacher called me to school. I was so afraid that she had done something wrong, but the teacher just wanted to tell me that she had the only student in the three grades who had a perfect test ----my Lesley! (And she beat the third grade kids!)

My dad bought her a flute when she was in the fifth grade and she started flute lessons at school and piano at home. The high school had a program where the eighth grade band kids would attend marching band camp for two weeks in the late summer and then be allowed to play with the high school band for the first football game. She was afraid to go to band camp, but I told her that grandfather had bought the darn flute and she would go or I would wrap it around her neck. She loved it! The older girls each took a younger one as a little sister and shepherded them through all the important things, ate lunch with them and generally made them feel at home. This was just the thing a kid needs to feel like they have a hand up when entering high school.

Lesley was an excellent student (Honor Society), an officer in the band, a majorette in the marching band and worked in a restaurant by sixteen. Working gave her the idea to pay for college herself. We didn't know if she could make it, but by going to a local college and keeping a semester ahead of the tuition, she was able to go to England and Scotland for a study tour between her junior and senior years. She arrived back home from London with fifty cents in her pocket, because she purchased the in flight movie for $3.00. College took only three and a half years, because she had tested out of so many courses at the beginning.

Graduating mid-year made her available when a local school district staffed a new school for a March opening. They had over three hundred teachers apply for five jobs and Lesley got one of them. She is a lively chatterbox and I think she charmed the superintendent into hiring her. She married that next summer and had three boys in the next few years, but unfortunately the marriage went south. So, she has raised three boys, taught school full time and received her Masters+ in Reading (big surprise) in order to earn enough to handle the single mother job.

We are so much alike in so many ways, --- like reading and sewing, but she knows way more about old movies than I do and she loves almost all music from the classics to all the latest things.

One thing she started in our family is left handedness. There had never been any in either side of our families, but all three of our children are southpaws. I think the other two copied her when they were little, because they do some things one way and other things right handed. Lesley does everything as a lefty. She had to have left handed scissors and I couldn't teach her how to knit or twirl a baton without having her switch it around to her way of doing things. I'm not smart enough to switch it, but she did everything automatically.

So, she is fifty and she is a wonderful woman, but she is still the little girl who holds our hearts in her hand. It has been a fantastic fifty years. We love you, Firecracker --- Never stand in the window waiting for us to come home, because we are always here. Dad and Mom

HAPPY BIRTHDAY STACEY!

Stacey will be forty-seven at exactly 2:00 p.m. today. I actually had a doctor's appointment at that exact time, so you could say that Stacey kept my appointment for me. This little cake looks so sad compared to today's birthdays with acrobats, organ grinders and moonwalks. Possibly, things got out of control that week. Matt had turned four a couple of days before this and had fallen off the ladder of the neighbor's swimming pool during "the birthday party" and had a concussion. Notice the shiner on his left eye. But, this is about Stacey and the joy she has brought into our lives. Since she was due just one year after the second child, my other half wanted another boy to keep him company. I, on the other hand, already had a baby boy in the house, so I wanted another girl to make clothes for and hair to fix in girly ways. She made the hair impossible by cutting her own bangs right to the quick the week of her annual baby picture sitting. She did grow it out after the disaster, so I suppose it is not the worst thing that can happen in a mother's life. Stacey gave us the best of both worlds by being a pretty little tomboy. One Christmas, I had made her a red wool double knit dress with picot edging on the collar and sleeves. She came out with her lace tights, French fold hairbow and MaryJane shoes looking like a child model. Then, up came her skirt exposing her six-guns and holster strapped on underneath. The two younger kids played with Legos and Matchbox cars for hours out under the evergreen bushes, while her sister played with her Barbies inside like little girls do. I have read that some of the moms in blogger land have trouble training their kids. (Probably because "Pull-Ups" have made it so handy for the tots to stay untrained) Since Stacey was my third in three years, she announced at eighteen months that "I wan siouk pants like Lesley". I bought her silk panties with a little bow on the side and put them on her and that was that. She was dry day and night, but I still had to convince her brother to get out of diapers at night. I was watching "Kate and John" the other night. They have two six year olds and six two year olds. Three of the sextuplets are girls and three are boys. She tackled training the girls first, because boys are harder. I don't think they are harder --- they just lack the incentive of silk panties!
Stacey moved on to bigger things after we moved to a bigger house in town. The neighborhood guys would come over and holler for "Staaaceeey" to come out and play a little street football or a pickup game of basketball in our driveway. I think having an older brother made her think in terms of sports or perhaps it was her Dad's influence. To this day, she can name almost any athlete, which school they played for, what position they played and where they went as pros. In high school, she ran track, high jumped and played softball which made Dad happy. Then on Friday nights, she became a majorette in the marching band with a cute little short skirt which satisfied my girly instincts.
She followed me into nursing, got married and after several losses of babies, finally has a wonderful son. Her life is spent working with the senior high youth of the church and the Bible quizzers, because she is gifted to work with kids.
Until tomorrow night when we have the birthday party (lookout blogger buddies, my first born has a birthday this week, too) this will have to do for today --- HAPPY BIRTHDAY STACEY! We love you, Dad and Mom

Happy Birthday Matthew!

Forty-eight years ago today at 12:46 in the afternoon, my only son was born. Through the years, we have talked exactly at that time. It will be 12:46 in less than half an hour, so I am going to go look up the number of his office. This is one of my favorite pictures of him. These are his boys and he has one beautiful daughter. (Thank you, God!) There is an old saying---"Your son is your son, till he takes him a wife, but your daughter is your daughter for all of her life." So, moms give your sons to their wives, but keep them in your heart and keep loving them, even when they are getting a bit long in the tooth. Luckily for me, my daughter-in-law is a real gem and shares him with us. I gave him his "birthday cookies" a couple of days ago, but I know he reads my blog occasionally. So, today ---
Happy Birthday Matthew!
Love, Dad and Mom

The Dreaded Church Picture

Let me give you youngins' some advice. When they tell you that you need to have your picture taken for the new church directory, never get a haircut about an hour before the actual sitting. I had written about the dreaded frizzy perm that I wanted to allow me to swim and dry in Florida without all the fuss and bother of hairdryers, brushes and such. I had gotten to the place where I could in a few short hours handle it a bit, but never knew how well I could do my "do". Enter another thought into my feeble brain --- get a haircut and the stylist would do my hair for the picture. My guy (I love him dearly) does my hair with the chair turned backwards, so the outcome is always a nice surprise. I suppose he wanted me to really look great for the picture, but he went for broke and did my hair in a way that I never wear it. My darling hubby calls this look "my football helmet". There are worse things than having your hair about three inches taller than your head, I can't think of one right now but not when the picture will be in the directory for around five years. Since we are seventy-one and seventy-five, we might not even be around for the next big event, but if I am --- I'm doing my own hair! Don't you just hate mandatory pictures? My last driver's license was really a great picture, but the church doesn't want it --- there is a hologram in the middle. Why didn't we appreciate the younger years, when we didn't think twice about pictures or anything else for that matter? So now, we are retired and every day is Saturday (except for Sunday) and we didn't see old age coming. Enjoy your youth, have fun and don't save any of your big desires for a better time. There is no time like the present. Never wait for the "when we can afford it, we will have enough time for it or when we have the free time". Do it today and have the memories to keep you warm when your days are long, but your time is probably possibly short.

E-Mail Nut on the Loose

I hate it when people forward bogus warnings, and I have even done it myself a couple times
unintentionally...but this one is real, and it's
important. So please send this warning to everyone on your e-mail list.
If someone comes to your front door saying they are checking for ticks due to the warm weather and asks you to take your clothes off and dance around with your arms up, DO NOT DO IT!! THIS IS A SCAM!! They only want to see you naked.
I wish I'd gotten this yesterday. I feel so stupid!

His name is Steven

There was a little boy named Steven, who was the firstborn grandchild in our family. I thought I would really like being a grandmother, but I had no idea that he would become the "Light of My life". Children are very different from when I was raising mine. They are free spirits, that will go anywhere, anytime, because they have been to day care and are outgoing. We were living on a small horse farm when he was born and suddenly the grandma who swore she would not be a full time babysitter was open to his staying overnight anytime or all the time. We had so much fun together and he was game for anything. We cleared the brush from a small copse of trees with his tiny hands in rubber gloves to keep him from touching the poison ivy. The child was a pyromaniac and loved to clear the brush and have glorious bonfires. We dumped large limestone rocks down an old, existing cistern to fill it up, so no child would accidentally stumble upon it and drown. We took the boom box outside and played tapes of Christian pop music. The child was certain that he sang exactly like Sandi Patti. Sure he did! Day after day we worked with such camaraderie, that the task became joy --- just being together. One day when we had finished about twenty feet of clearing small saplings and debris, Steven in the wisdom of his four years said, "Would you look at the size of that uthwum?"As I turned to see his amazing earthworm, he gave a final rake to the now barren ground and in tones to waken the dead screamed, "It's a snake!" and jumped into my arms.

His Grandpa spent many weekends showing quarter horses at conformation shows, so Steven kept me company and never seemed to miss his Mommy and Daddy as long as he had me to cuddle him and make him "my special boy". He slept in our king sized bed and we stayed awake late at night and watched his favorite things on T.V. --- the QVC channels --- he loved keeping track of the number of items left before the clock clanged doom. I should have known that we had a huckster on our hands way back then. I admit to being a sneaky Grandma. His mom and dad had a few problems, but my daughter was too proud to tell her parents that all was not well in paradise. He was telling me about the day his dad was looking for a certain shirt in the dryer and he pulled the clothes out and dropped them on the floor as he looked for that shirt. To which, I asked, " What did your Mommy say when she found the clothes on the floor?" With a serious face, he said, "Why that asho!" It certainly is hard to keep a straight face when you are priming the kid for information and gossip drips innocently from his lips . I never came right out and asked my daughter if they were having marital troubles, but eventually (after three boys in four years) they divorced and I knew that my fears had been well founded. She took care of the kids, taught school full time and got her master's degree + in the next 2 1/2 years. I took full advantage of the situation to keep one or two of the boys for overnights , whenever I had the chance. All three of my children had baby boys when Steven was two. They are all college age and treat each other as cousin/brothers. One of these days I'll get to some of my other wonderful grandchildren and bore the be jabbers out of you with their exploits. But, for now ---the only constant was the thing Steven and I had between us. He would come in the back door and through the living room with a look of determination on his face and a fast pace in his feet---looking for his "Mamaw". About five, he stated with a solemn face, "You're not my Mamaw --- You are my Drandma ---- Right Mamaw?" I can't even explain how he made me feel. I loved my own three children dearly, but I had no time to spend just basking in the light of a young child's love for me. One day I dropped a bowl of homemade vegetable, beef soup and it sprayed up and over the counter, the cupboards and the floor. Green beans were hanging at rakish angles from the window over the sink and corn was sliding down the cupboard doors. I started to laugh and said, "Did you ever see such a colossal mess?" He replied with a stricken look, "My mom wouldn't say that!" I was afraid to ask what she would have said!

I want all of the young mommy bloggers to know that the children in your life are just the beginning. Children grow up too fast, so savor every minute with them. Steven is twenty-five now; just about to start law school after having worked for our Governor in Washington for the last three years. He is out of our daily lives, but never out of our thoughts and hearts. I wish I could have a mulligan for those early years.

We Never Forget

Courtney would have been twenty-three today. So much has happened in that time, but we never forget that for today, we had hope for her. My daughter and son-in-law were great parents, but they were not destined to hold her here on Earth for very long. I will always be grateful for the courage and faithfullness of my children in caring for my granddaughter during her nine and a half years here. She lives with God and we never forget her.

Life is a Journey

By now, most of you have heard about the little girl in Washington State, whose parents have decided to have her surgically altered in an attempt to keep her small and manageable. Her prognosis is to be a mentally handicapped child for her entire life. The problem is that normal parents cannot handle a full grown adult infant, as they themselves age and lose strength. These parents had their daughter's uterus, appendix, and breast buds removed and massive doses of estrogen given in an attempt to keep her "little" forever. It was not a decision made lightly, but with the help of medical ethicians. It is being called The Ashley Treatment. This family loves their little girl and takes excellent care of the child. I went to their site and read the comments by perfect strangers and was stunned by the freedom other bloggers feel in forming opinions and being disgustingly frank with these well meaning parents. There were comments like "Cut off her limbs, too --- that would make her smaller" or "How do you know that menstruation would be painful for her --- let her grow up normally". What words did these people not understand? This child has a condition that will never allow her to do anything and caring for her is a huge problem. Unless they have walked in these parents' moccasins, they have no right to an opinion.

This picture is my youngest daughter as she and her husband awaited the birth of their first child after suffering an earlier miscarriage. May of 1984 was a time of great joy and expectation. Every week she went to the doctor and then stopped by our house to tell me what the doctor had said. Her due date was around the 24th of May and she was hoping to have the baby on the 30th, because her birthday, her husband's birthday and their anniversary were all on the 30th of different months. When she missed the 30th, the appointment on the 31st was rather anticlimactic --- but, she didn't come to my house afterward. After a few hours, I told my husband that I was worried and we decided to call her house. She answered and sounded nothing like my daughter. When I asked if something were wrong, her only answer was ,"We're coming over". She was crying and distraught. I am a nurse and she is a nurse --- all sorts of awful things went through my mind, but I could not imagine what the actual problem was. They arrived and my son-in-law went around the car to help the expectant mom out of the car. Her face was blotchy with swelling and tears and he looked like someone had just shot him. "Mom, I had an ultrasound today and the baby has hydrocephalus". My mind was flipping through all the pages of child and infant care from my training and I knew there was hope for this type of handicap with shunts and good neurosurgeons. After a quick discussion of where we were with this (already a week overdue), I called the doctor for her and asked if there was any possibility that the baby could be delivered the next day, since nobody could eat or sleep until the baby was safely here.

Fast forward to the next morning and the birth of a lovely baby girl by C-Section. Things looked pretty good when the neurosurgeon said that a shunt would take care of everything Then came
the CAT Scan of Courtney's brain. June second, the neurosurgeon waltzed into my daughter's room and stuck the films against the window, where sunshine streamed brightly and illuminated a skull with a large amount of empty space. He said, "Unfortunately, this child has almost no brain and I'm not sure we should shunt her". With a shunt, she would live about two years and without the shunt , she would live about three months. The decision was taken out of this young family's hands. The federal government had passed "The Baby Jane Doe" ruling that required that medical personnel notify the authorities, if physicians did not do everything possible for newborn babies. Ironically enough, women could kill their fetuses inutero, but families could not withhold treatment from children who could not possibly live. The cephalic shunt was done the next day and the excess cerebrospinal fluid was drained from her skull and absorbed in her abdominal cavity. This allowed her fontanels to close and her skull to become a normal size. She would never be able to see, hear, eat, speak, roll over or even know she was alive. This is a picture of

Courtney at a couple of months old. Cute, huh? Yes, she was lovely and lovable, but the trick is

--- she is being held up for the picture. She was never even able to hold her own head up. My kids struggled to feed the baby by

dripping formula down the throat of a child who could not even suckle. By eight months old, the doctors finally realized that she would starve to death, if she was not fed by gastric tube, so they operated again and she was fed parentally by machine for her whole life. Her life was a series of specialists from every type of medicine, but nothing could be done to change the prognosis for this little girl. Even with very good health insurance, her medical needs took two paychecks, so my daughter worked part time at the hospital and the kids moved in with us to save money and have help caring for Courtney. Friends and family took CPR and learned to work her Apnea Monitor and G-Tube, so they could babysit occasionally to relieve her exhausted parents. Her medical condition caused seizures and the inability to have feedings while awake. If she coughed, she vomited, so feedings were done at night while she slept. I could hear my daughter and son-in-law running to her bedside all through the night to keep her from choking or to clean her up after vomiting. By four years old, she tipped the scales at nineteen pounds and remained easy to handle. I wonder how hard it would have been to care for a child who grew normally, but never was able to move and was a total lift.In this picture, you can see the plugged G-tube that was her lifeline for

feedings. By forcing her to be shunted, the government rules condemned her to nine and a half years as a prisoner inside a tiny body that did not function. She was loved so much and her family suffered terribly from this enforced slow death by well meaning souls who have no idea what they have brought upon such children. We watched as she writhed in convulsive seizures and wondered each time, "Is this the day?" Families of severely handicapped children need to be free to make educated decisions regarding the medical and surgical issues involving these children without input from the public at large. I feel that the parents of Ashley in Washington should be applauded for their choice to keep their daughter small and manageable in order to care for her at home.
This picture shows Courtney as she was getting older. You can see the spasticity in her body and know that she had no cognitive function by the way her hands are curled in decerebrate movement. If she had been born in an earlier time without medical intervention, she would have passed quickly from this world of pain. Once again, one of God's special little ones was snatched from the jaws of Heaven by do-gooders without knowledge of her best interests. Courtney lived for nine and a half years suffering through pneumonias, abdominal surgeries for obstructions and clam shell braces for a scoliosing spine. Her family watched helplessly while she suffered with multiple difficulties. How can anyone say what medical procedures should be done to a child, if they are not the ones who have to live with the consequences? Our family has lived through the heartache of birth defect and we would support Ashley's family's decision to prevent her from becoming adult size and necessitating care outside a loving home.

I first wrote this in January of 2007, when I heard about Ashley's family on television and the problems they were having with public opinion. This week, I heard that the hospital where her surgery was done is in trouble for not having a judge approve of the surgical procedures done to the child. The world has so many problems to handle --- why can't they leave this family alone to deal with their personal difficulties and to care for their child?