On Vickie’s blog she posted The Writer Rat, a story about the albino squirrel she encountered while in Beaufort, South Carolina. This next week photos of the albino squirrel will be posted in a number of different blogs and a prize offered for the first to report all the squirrel photos on the different blogs. Keep your eyes peeled.

To learn more about the contest

Where in the World is the Albino Squirrel? Begin the search at http://www.teresaslack.blogspot.com

Prizes and fun.

 Where is a black squirrel when I need one, I’d post a photo of the one that teases our dog Paddy, but …..sigh, he’s not available this morning. Well it is Sunday, maybe he’s gone to church. I’m headed that way shortly.

Still lionhearted, Kat

When we give our lives away, we gain so much in return.

My parents modeled that type of giving from as far back as I can remember. For instance, when we moved into our home on 23^rd and Madison in Eugene the front door of our home built in the late 1800’s, opened onto an ally. Dad remodeled the house, switched the back to the front, and where that front door once was turned into the bathroom. 

But one of my first memories of my parents giving happened before that change. I still see Mom and Dad taking some of our Thanksgiving turkey to some worker that came up the alley. Now it might have been the mailman the day after Thanksgiving, but whoever the laborer, the part I remember is the sharing.  

My mother is eighty-six now and still sharing with others. She takes her friends out for meals and this last week took a lady for a long drive up the McKenzie River. So what about me right now? I’ve been pretty self-focused this week. Haven’t handed out my business cards or told a patient about my book, but tomorrow I plan to give Capsules of Hope: Survival Guide for Caregivers to someone. I just know this battle with cancer isn’t about me—it’s about how the Lord is using me to reach out to another person.  

Oh yes, and today I was reminded of Proverbs 11:25, “He who refreshes others is himself refreshed.” My parents are like the two beautiful roses they have shared so much with so many, they also taught me to share, too.  

“Will he heal? What’s the prognosis?” Family and friends asked that question often when Gary received a diagnosis Pseudomyxoma Peritonei (PMP) in December 2002. I felt exhausted trying to explain what I did not know. Once I shared my meager knowledge with a friend, she proceeded like the old gossip game. By the time she’d told three people what I hadn’t said, her statements gathered momentum and when someone repeated back to me what she told them, I didn’t recognize my friends question or my answer. 

Now I’m the subject of the questions. What’s next? What did the doctor say? How much tissue was removed? Is it malignant? When will you return to work? What about your trip to Oregon? Then comes the, “You poor dear, whatever will you do?” 

So what do I know? The surgeon’s office called last evening and said to call today at 11. I just called, no report yet. The receptionist is to call me later this afternoon. She also scheduled me to see the doctor tomorrow at 9:30 a.m.  

Oh and how do I handle all the questions? Same as I did when husband was sick, write answers. If my answers don’t make sense, oh well.  

Years ago my friend Bobbie gave me an adorable ceramic donkey—it still sits in my living room, she also told me the donkey’s story:  

There once were two men and a donkey headed to market. The men loaded their backpacks and started to town one on each side of the donkey. A man met them on the way and said, “That looks pretty silly to me, you have a good animal. Why not ride?”One man climbed on the donkeys back. They walked further and met another man who shook his head and muttered, “Perfectly good animal and you are walking?”The men looked at each other and both climbed on the back of the donkey. They walked further and met a woman who glared at the men. “You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Two of you on that humble animal. You’ll kill your beast.”

Both men slid off the donkey in embarrassment.  

The moral of the story: No matter what your choice, you cannot please all the people all the time. With that I think I’ll rip the bandages off and take a shower. Think I’ll color my hair, too. Looking young will give my moral a boost.

Life is one big comfort zone for me. Give me a lion, soft comfy shirt and a pillow to prop me up. Do you see I found a super long, navy blue, polka dotted scarf to tie me together. Look happy as a lark, don’t you think? Now I wait.

It’s the wait that gets to me. This morning I decided to crawl out of bed at 5:30 a.m. just to listen to Joyce Meyer. I figured she’d have something worth listening to, and she did. 

“You can count on this. You are not your feelings.” Those words were a great comfort. I’m still in wait mode, if I sat around in “feeling zone” I’d have done nothing. Instead I called my old friend Esther in California. Woke her up and you know she didn’t even care. We laughed over old times, hashed a few memories and talked about her caregiving experiences.

 Esther said, “I remember you and all those kids sold light bulbs to bring me to Troy. You were only one day out of surgery and still you ….”  

She remembered. Well why not? Those were some crazy memories. Our youth group spent months selling light bulbs. We’d bought 12 cases and received the 13^th case free. That is more light bulbs than we had people in our town, but those teens wanted Song Evangelist Esther Eastwood (Hanson) to come and they were willing to work to earn enough money to pay her. Sure glad they did. Sur glad I called her. The wait will soon be over and life will move on. This day will soon be just another memory to hash over another day.

 Posted more on Straight from the Lion’s Mouth www.sftlm.blogspot.com and caringbridge.org/visit/kat2009

When I finished the project I felt empowered. Want to see that mission statement, check out the Mission statement page here, or pop over to see my post on STRAIGHT FROM THE LIONS MOUTH 

Build your own, find strength and purpose in knowning where you are headed and why. Choose to make a difference.

Help! Hope! Healing!

 

 

  

HALF

Half cannot begin to describe the amount of time a caregiver gives. Whole is a must. Never half. Not in between. The patient is on the mind of the caregiver twenty-four/seven.

 The first days of Gary’s hospital stay I didn’t try and spend nights at the hospital. He had good care, I needed to sleep. And I did. When he came home the burden changed.

Like the latest TV craze, reality is known by extremes, whether it’s extreme makeovers of houses and bodies, weight loss, or the well-known Survivor Series. The caregiver is a passionate reality fanatic.

The word passionate has evolved to something sexual in today’s world. The true meaning of passion is suffering. The caregiver cannot give half—they cannot stand on the fringes and not feel the pain. The one truly giving of self will work with a wholehearted passion. Totally involved. Never half.

 Help!

            Months into the twenty/four seven cancer demands, my friend Steve said, “The dedicated caregiver has an added program playing in the mind. You can never ever turn it off. Eliminate anything you can, especially if it causes anxiety.”

 Hope!

He has showed you, O Man (woman) what is good. And what does the Lord require of you Kat Crawford?* To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8 (NIV)

 Healing!

            Lord, expand my mind in spite of the fullness of the caregiver role. Help me not to stagnate. It seems lately every conversation begins and ends with something about illness. Help me to stay healthy minded by using what I’ve learned to help others. Thank you for the opportunity to learn, to gain new knowledge daily—even if I don’t like the process.  Amen

* Italics are added by the author. Not found in the original manuscripts

©

Help! Hope! Healing!

INSPIRATIONAL TOUCHDOWNS

June 28, 2009 

Email from my friend:

I now have the greatest peace ever, in my every day days I know for sure, without a doubt, doing what God intends me to do…care for my best friend.  He plucked me right out of Wal-Mart, and set me right beside this guy.

Vonnie Skidgel caring for Alzheimer’s husband

ஐ

 Help, Hope, and Healing

OUR FINEST GOAL

In 2002 my mentor and friend Vonnie stood well into her journey of care for her husband, Gene. Because of her caregiver duties our phone conversations ceased and we settled for short emails to keep updated on our news.

That same summer I attended a writer’s conference and dreamed of being a published author.

But God had other plans. In December 2002 we rushed my husband Gary to the hospital.

The surgeon said, “At some point, Mr. Crawford, your appendix burst. We found pieces floating throughout your abdomen. We did remove a large mass from where your appendix should have been. You have a rare disease called Pseudomyxoma Peritonei, a cancer of the peritoneal lining …”

And our world changed.

I left my desire to be published and became husband’s most dedicated caregiver. Emails to Von all but ceased in the cancer crisis days. The caregiver job didn’t pay anything in monetary value, but the dividends were superb. I figured someday Von and I would have a wealth of laughter and tears to catch up on.

Back in those days of change I wrote many short devotionals that fit in the H category. I saw HHHHH’s as my goalposts and the written word as the football thrown for that great inspirational touchdown.

Take a minute to read the touchdowns of my life written when life felt more fragile than now. And yes, both husband and I found Help, Hope, and Healing.

Dear Caregiver,

After my husband’s terminal diagnosis with a rare cancer, Pseudomyxoma Peritonei (PMP), it seemed like some of our friends lost all common sense. They said really “stupid” things. Mom said that was the least of my worries and in a few years it wouldn’t matter. I stewed anyway. Then we attended church.

“Well, Gar, you sure look good. Probably the hospital wasn’t that big a deal anyway.” My white-faced husband stood holding onto the back of the pew while a fellow parishioner made light of his situation. “Looks like you just needed a change of desire, you suppose?”

Change of desire? What kind of statement was that?

My eyes pooled with tears. I felt an urge to deck the woman. I wanted to scream at her, “Two oncologists said there is no treatment for his cancer,” but I didn’t. I tempered my response and when Gary visited with a man nearby, I whispered to the woman, “Last week an oncologist suggested I take family medical leave, I won’t have my husband long.”

The woman looked beyond me, tapped Gary on the shoulder and said, “Good to see you, Gar. Isn’t great to know Doc’s aren’t always right?” She patted my husband’s shoulder and strode down the aisle before either of us could respond.

Later, I thought to myself, that woman isn’t sarcastic or mean tempered. I also thought about my lack of “right words” in similar situations. Then I remembered my mother’s sage advice, “In five years it won’t matter—even if you do remember the situation.”

Mom’s always right, rather than focus on that woman’s blunder I decided to write the comment in a journal to use later. Today it doesn’t really matter what the woman said, I learned a lot then and later. Today her comments are turned into, “hope in a bite sized” capsule.

Your friend,

Kat

What to say when life looks hopeless for your friend:

♥      In the hospital: “Hey, you’ve probably seen every kind of needle and pill pusher today. Let’s change the scene. Reflect to a happy time and place. Can you tell me five fun memories? I’m a good listener.”

♥      At the grocery store or church: Look into your friends eyes. Be real, honest. See them as more than the illness. “I heard your doctor didn’t give you the best prognosis, I’m sorry to hear that. Honestly, I don’t know what to say, but I want you to know I’m thinking about you and your family.”

♥      At the home: Comfort comes from our attitude. Don’t be afraid to get involved. Pull up a chair, touch your friend or loved one. Words aren’t always necessary.

Published at last. More than a memoir, this book is thirty-one capsule sized stories sandwiched between my story of caregiving and twenty-two pages filled with answers to frequently asked questions by other caregivers. 

When my husband Gary was diagnosed with Pseudomyxoma Peritonei (PMP) a rare cancer of the appendix, I felt confused and even angry. Anxiety dogged my mind and heart. No matter where I searched for a manual of hope, I found none.

Libraians offered me books written by the caregivers for Alzheimer patients and those written by forty-something caregivers taking care of their elderly parents.

When the medical world offered us no hope I asked questions. My team leader at work has teased me for years. “You ask more questions than anyone I know,” she says often. Still in all my questions, I didn’t find the answers to Gary’s rare cancer. For my saniety and to share with our family and friends, every time I stumbled into wisdom from any source, I sent out dated emails filled with those nuggets of wisdom. After three years I had enough to start a book.

For a preview check out Capsules of Hope: Survival Guide for Caregivers

The good news is, Gary is very much alive and I am MORE THAN A CAREGIVER.

Have a smile filled day,

Your friend, Kat

Cracking the parenting Code by Laura Lee Heinshohn is one of the best parenting books I’ve read in a long time. The book is built in an easy to read, investigative layout. Obviously the author did her sleuthing detective work ahead of time, her FBI questions and resolutions are thought provoking.  

Heinshohn laid out the book in three parts: The Mystery, Solving the Mystery—Six Clever Clues, and Leader’s Guide for leading a 13-Week Small Group course.  gives practical insights for single parent families, how to uncover clues in your childhood, and seasons of parenting. Other tidbits: When children don’t feel heard, they don’t feel valued; how to teach children to care for others; understand your childhood and how it colors your own parenting skills; and learn the love languages.

 The author realizes it takes more than a family to raise a child, even more than a community. She also is aware it takes a village to write a book. Her acknowledgement list gives credit to many involved in this most worthwhile project. All are to be commended. This is great baby shower gift for the new parent, a gift for a friend struggling with her child’s adolescent issues, and/or good for the parent with an adult child still at home. I especially appreciated the chapter on boundaries, “Mama Don’t…I Mean Do…Fence Me In.”

This is a great read even if you are a grandparent.