The Year That Was...For Real!

Reflections as 2012 comes to a close


I knew that 2012 was going to be a year filled with changes and challenges, with preparation for weight loss surgery and CPE happening during the first half of the year, then surgery and all its aftermath.  In my head I knew it was going to be a big deal.  In truth, I only had the slightest notion of what this year would hold and the many changes in store for both me and The Hubs.  So I thought I would share a running tally of just some of the changes the past year has brought to my life.


What I have lost:
98 pounds so far
over 16 BMI points
about 5 dress/pant sizes, depending on the garment and the manufacturer
caffeine and carbonation
most of my hip and ankle pain
some hair (but the hair loss has pretty much returned to normal)
the need (most of the time, anyway) to have everything all figured out, all the time!


What I have gained:
protein, vitamins and supplements
tighter hugs
increased energy
improved confidence
greater comfort
a keener sense of gratitude...for everything
new experiences, insights and friendships through CPE which have changed me forever


What I pray for in the year to come:
good health, peace and happiness for the Hubs and me, our family and everyone else we love
to stay on track with my weight loss
to continue growing stronger and healthier, physically, emotionally and spiritually
to continue seeking ways to serve and honor the God Who loves me, and opportunities to share His love with others
to live my life well, as a work of art that pleases my Maker


I am so very thankful for the support of so many people throughout my journey thus far; for those who have faithfully read my ramblings here and encouraged me to keep rambling;  for the people who are urging me to write a book (whether it happens or not, just knowing there are people who think I could do it makes me so proud and happy);  for the people who pray for my continued improving health and weight loss;  for God's tremendous blessings and redemption.  His mercies truly are new every morning!  My journey is not over, because every day the journey begins again, with new challenges, chances and changes to be faced.  My prayer for everyone who reads these words of mine is that you find something here to make you think, laugh or pause to give thanks for your own life.  I pray for you every possible blessing in the year to come!

For Auld Lang Syne, my dear, for Auld Lang Syne,
We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for Auld Lang Syne.

Ribs, Recognition and Reunions

More new experiences in shrinkage


Life for the Shrinking Diva continues to be interesting and full, happy and sad and...rich.  I'll start with a couple of "wow" moments.  I felt my ribs a few days ago.  I've been conscious of more bones making their presence known for a while now.  It began one night in bed when I realized that my arm was stretched down along the side of my body and I could feel my hipbone and the muscle there.  Then my collarbones started to become visible and feel-able.  Now it is the ribs.  They don't stick out or anything, but I can feel them, which I can't remember doing in forever.

Today I had an appointment and afterward I ran by to see The Hubs at his work and sign something that needed my signature before it could be faxed.  He and I were standing at the fax machine and his boss came down into the lobby, nodded and smiled courteously.  In a minute or two, after the receptionist mentioned my name, she laughed and came over to hug me.  She had not recognized me.  Granted, we don't see each other often, but still, it's the first time someone has failed to recognize me.  It was both weird and cool.  Another "first" to go into the books (and the blog!).  This kind of moment happens for most weight loss patients at least once, and most find it gratifying to realize that their appearance has changed so dramatically, that their hard work and efforts are indeed visible.

The appointment I had earlier in the day was to meet with Randy, my supervisor from CPE.  I had made a batch of Christmas goodies (the recipe is called "White Trash" and it's definitely a special-occasion-not-weight-loss-friendly candy treat) to take for the department to snack on and enjoy during the coming week just as a small Christmas token.  It was nice to make something to share without the compulsion to eat it!  I had a bite of it with Randy today, and the one bite satisfied me.  Seeing him was a joyful reunion for me and we had a great visit.

It was also very well-timed, as these moments usually are.  My cousin Betty (she was married to my cousin Crawford, so she is a cousin by marriage---once you marry into the family, you're in till you die) passed away last Friday and her daughter/my cousin Judy asked if I would sing for the funeral home service, which I agreed to do.  The next day she asked if I would consider conducting the graveside service as well.  It overwhelmed and honored me to be asked to do this, especially since I am not a minister.  After panicking a little and checking with a couple of minister friends to make sure I was "allowed" to do this, I learned that it is indeed permissible for a lay person to conduct a service.  Good to know.  Touching base today with Randy made me feel calmer and more at peace about going ahead with this new experience.  So tonight, I will go to the funeral home to be with my family was we prepare to say goodbye to Betty.  I will sing and try to offer what comfort I can with the voice God gave me.  I will hug and laugh and cry and see family I don't see nearly often enough, some who have not seen the shrinking me.  And tomorrow morning I will preach Betty's graveside service.  Another first for the books.

This year began with the adventure of weight loss surgery preparation and the journey of CPE, blessings of unknown and unknowable scope, a season of new things.  Now I end the year with sadness at the loss of another loved one. Through God's goodness and the faith of my family, I have the opportunity to serve God and my family in an old, familiar way, through music, and in a new way as I commit my loved one to the ground, and into God's heavenly care.  As sweet as the reunions are down here, I cannot begin to imagine the ones to come in Heaven.    

"She LIVED Hers"

The Power Of Three Little Words


I've had Mama on my mind a lot lately.  My parents' 55th wedding anniversary would have been this past November 9, and the anniversary of Mama's death was December 8.  It is a sentimental, moody time of year for me, with lots of memories.  I get my sensitivity to things like this from Mama, actually.  She always seemed to remember the anniversaries, both happy and sad, especially concerning my Granny, her own Mama.

Mama was 33 when Granny died, and in the room with her when she departed this life and went to Heaven.  I was 33 when I watched Mama go there as well.  I don't really put a lot of stock in "magic numbers" but sometimes there are patterns that I can't help noticing.  I think Mama at age 33 was much more mature than I was.  She had given birth to my brother and me and raised us while taking care of Granny and looking after Dad, keeping the home fires burning.  I think that having human children grows people up a lot.  I have no human children and I think that has allowed me to hang onto a little childishness of my own.

Sentiment and childishness aside, I remember one thing that she always said about Granny.  "She LIVED hers."  She was talking about how Granny lived out her faith and didn't just talk about it.  Granny gave birth to and raised 9 children, each child with his or her own personality, problems and talents.  She loved them all despite the heartbreak some of them brought to her.  This is a mother's heart, to love her children.

Mama was the youngest of those 9 kids, and the one still living at home when my Granddad died.  She was 15 years old, and something of a handful by all recollections, including her own.  She told me how hard it was for her because some of the older siblings tried to advise Granny about how to finish Mama's upbringing.  "I don't believe I'd let her have a car or get her license..."  "Did you let her do that to her hair?"  "I don't think she needs to be going-here-doing-this-seeing-that-boy-or-running-around-with-that-crowd..."  Mama said she just wanted Granny to tell her what to do, and she promised that if Granny would be the one voice she had to listen to, she would do her very best to obey the rules and not cause trouble.  I can't imagine what that must have been like, for either of them.

Mama must have seen sides to Granny that no one else in the world would have known about.  I know that there were times near the end of Granny's life when Mama was so exhausted she could barely move, but Granny insisted on Mama being the one to look after every little detail.  When Dad's parents were nearing the end of their own independence and Mama and Dad were at the end of their ropes, Mama would sometimes go out on the back deck to have a cry and sling snot for a few minutes...then go back in to handle another round with Mamaw and Papaw.  That's one thing I have to give both my parents credit for; they loved each other's parents just like they loved their own.  They spent the majority of their marriage taking care of someone besides themselves and their kids.

When Mama uttered those words, "She LIVED hers", her voice had a reverence about it that wasn't often there.  There was a respect, almost an awe, about how she viewed Granny and the way Granny had lived her life and faith.  What would probably surprise Mama now is that I see her the same way.  Yes, she was a handful, and thank God she was!  She was sweet, and sometimes spicy.  She could smell BS a mile away and didn't have any patience for it.  She actually didn't have a whole lot of patience, period, for most of her life.  But for all the little foibles, bad words, inappropriate humor and times she flew off the handle, there were hugs and love, apologies when she felt she had been wrong, humble moments and tears when she thought she might have hurt me.  She could not stand a hypocrite, and she could not stand to see someone being mistreated.  She always rooted for the underdog, shared what she had and made sure nobody was ever hungry in her presence.  I never questioned Mama's faith in God.  She didn't preach about it, she just answered questions when I had them, and walked out her faith the best way she knew how.  She was not perfect, but she was real.  Mama lived hers.

Mama LIVED hers.

Now I am trying to live mine.  I hope Mama's mansion in Heaven has a little plot of ground out back of it for my shack to be built on.  If I can get anywhere close to her neighborhood there I'll be grateful.

A Big Week And A Two-Feather Day

My 6-month checkup at the surgeon's office and some other stuff

I collect feathers.  I don't remember exactly when it started, but several years ago, I began picking up feathers whenever I see them.  Today when I went out to retrieve the trash can from the curb, I actually found 2 feathers!  Not huge ones, but still, I took finding 2 as a very good sign.  I like to imagine that the feathers I find are from the wings of an angel God sent to watch over me.

This past Sunday night I went to my college for their Christmas oratorio presentation, which, this year, was portions of Handel's "Messiah".  I told my music fraternity students that I have performed in many more of these than I have had the chance to watch and listen to since I've been an adult.  As musicians, this is what we do.  We make music.  Sometimes, though, it is good for us, and even necessary, that we sit back and let others make the music, allowing it to minister to us.  I felt as though God were saying to me, "Let Me feed your soul as you listen this time."  It was exactly what I needed to start my Christmas season and my soul was indeed nourished.

Thursday is my official 6-month "surgi-versary", and today I had my 6-month checkup at the surgeon's office.  I met with both the dietician and the exercise physiologist to go over my food log and exercise since my last checkup.  My blood pressure was good, 110/68.  I'll take that.  My BMI is down over 16 points.  And according to my scale at home, I am down 93 pounds, which is still ahead of schedule.  I'll take that, too.

I was a little nervous about this appointment because it was my first big nutrient check since surgery.  I went in  last week for the dozen or so (OK, I am exaggerating, a little) vials of blood to be drawn to check everything from vitamins and protein to iron and thyroid levels.  My phosphorus is a little low but no action is required at this point.  That will be checked again in 6 months.  Protein and vitamins are all within range, so that is a big relief.  I am, however, anemic.  (Thank you, Cramp Fairy, for bringing back my periods and stealing my iron!)  So I am adding an iron supplement to my routine.  The dietician also recommended a probiotic to help with intestinal issues, so I'll be adding those as well.  Overall, considering how many nutrients I could be lacking and all the health complications that could result, I am actually thrilled that iron is my only problem.

I have also officially been cleared to advance to phase 4 diet, which means I can add some starches, as tolerated and within reason.  I can also gradually begin to increase my portion sizes, which means that over time I can start getting more protein from food and less from supplements, which will be a good thing.  I am so used to doing 3-ounce math, I'll have to start looking up nutrition information for different amounts of foods.  No problem.

The Hubs's birthday is tomorrow, and to celebrate a little early, we got dressed up and went to a fancy steakhouse for dinner last night.  He looked so handsome in his dress slacks, shirt and tie, and I had the chance to wear the black velvet dress I have mentioned in a couple of previous posts.  I had him take a quick picture of me just so I could see how I looked in the dress (because the image in the mirror is neither lasting nor accurate).  It looked nice on me, showing my recently-discovered waist and legs that have become surprisingly small.  Dinner was delicious and I have a couple of meals' worth of leftovers to enjoy.  The atmosphere was both intimate and festive, with beautiful Christmas lights and decorations everywhere in the restaurant and a gloriously festooned tree next to the hostess station.  The service was impeccable.  And the company was perfect.  I'd rather be with The Hubs than anyone else in the world.  Not only do I love him, I genuinely like him.  He is the funniest person I know and after 30-plus years of togetherness, 26 of those married, he can still make me laugh so hard I cry or pee my pants.  Or both.  Humor like that can carry people over a multitude of problems, as it has for us.  Laughter is indeed a good medicine.  Plus, it's great for your abs!

Tonight was the music fraternity's Christmas party at the home of our Chapter Advisor.  Every year she makes supper for this bunch of hungry college students and welcomes the whole chapter into her home.  She decorates all over the house at Christmas, with a tree in every room and candles everywhere.  It was a joy to be surrounded by these precious student musicians and share an evening of fellowship and, again, lots of laughter.  At the end of the evening, she spoke of how blessed we all are and how especially at Christmas we should be mindful of those who do not have the opportunities we enjoy.  And she suggested that we take a moment each day and think of someone who means something special to us, considering the attributes that make that person unique and giving thanks for their presence in our lives.  As I left her house tonight, I thanked her for the evening and especially for her words, and I told her that when I consider those special people who have contributed so much to my life, she is one of the people for whom I am so grateful.

God has blessed me so greatly, with the people He has placed in my path, the experiences of my life that have made priceless memories for me to treasure, and even the trials that have hurt me for a season but taught me valuable lessons.  With the week and its activities fresh in my mind, I am especially grateful for my most immediate family, The Hubs, and my larger musical family of college students and teachers, past and present.  And I am grateful for the doctors and other specialists who are helping me to get healthier and stronger.  I am indeed blessed beyond measure.

Having A Holly, Melancholy Christmas

Why the holidays are bittersweet for me


The 15th anniversary of Mama's death is approaching, and I find myself even more blue this season than I normally am.  Maybe it is the number of years causing me more melancholia than usual. Maybe it is just the events of this past year catching up with me.  Surgery, weight loss and the inevitable changes that happen as a result might make anyone feel a bit off-balance.  I've also been thinking about the unit of CPE I did in the first half of the year.  I spent a lot of time in the hospital dealing with the stresses and tragedies of other people, remembering other times when it was me and my family who were patients and caregivers.  And of course, my most intimate experience within my own family was with Mama at the end of her life.

She died very early in the wee hours on December 8, 1997.  What follows is a poem I wrote a few weeks after she died.



The World Still Turns

Somewhere between land of the living and domain of the dead
inside this room my world has ground to a screeching halt

A small space littered with soiled gauze, used syringes, bloody linen

Mama's broken, worn-out body

My battered soul in pieces
Beaten black and blue from
worrying, waiting, watching

This place has become my home

Weeks I've spent here
looking on
sickness slowly, meticulously
enveloping her in its cocoon
layer by layer suffocating us all

Her first night here she was terrified
I tried everything, nurses tried everything
the medicine they gave her for panic made her sick

The morning they needed to take blood
Stuck her twice and couldn't get her to bleed
The third time they couldn't get her to stop

Now she's taken no food in over a week

In that time every day the IV has had to be replaced
by angels of mercy who sit patiently at her bedside
and sweat trying to find a usable vein

"Help me, Honey."
"What can I do for you, Mama?"
"I don't know..."

She's been dreaming about Aunt Mary, calling out for Granny
They're both dead

Today her breathing has changed
her face has taken on the look of a corpse
a horrible smell now seeps into every corner of the room
it's coming from her

Old blood
the smell of death

Daddy insists on coming back here
to relieve me

I'm not going
Anywhere

He goes to sleep and I watch

Another breath
and another
and then nothing

her lips turn white
I know the next breath isn't coming

A wave of panic
nausea
alone-ness rises up in me

But not the relief that was supposed to come

I count two minutes on my watch and
go to find the nurse

"I think we're done here, but I
need you to make sure before
I wake Daddy up."

She looks in Mama's eyes
listens all over her chest
shakes her head

"She's gone."

It's 2:40 in the morning
Daddy stirs and asks what's happening
I tell him that it's over

Mama's gone

We cry
He says a prayer
We make phone calls and
gather our things to leave

I stay behind with her until
they tell me that I have to go

I step out into the hallway and
somehow put one foot in front of the other
the walk to my car seems to take forever this time

Inside that little room my world stopped
But out here in the cold hours before daybreak

I feel the chill of December air as it freezes the tears on my cheeks
I smell the aroma of bread from the bakery down the street
I notice the Christmas tree lights twinkling on downtown rooftops

A new day is coming
whether I want it to or not

Out here the world still turns

Somehow

I have to turn with it

Thank You For The World So Sweet...

Thank You for the food we eat

Thank You for the birds that sing

Thank You, Lord, for everything

It's a simple little childhood table grace that has been on my mind a great deal lately.  Sometimes simple prayers are the best ones, and sometimes they are the only kind we can muster.  My prayers this week have been very childlike indeed, often very brief and usually kind of desperate.

"Lord, please help..."

"Please protect..."

"Please grant us peace..."

"Thank You so much..."

Thanksgiving came with an abundance of family, fellowship and, of course, food.  The Hubs and I made it to lunch with a big contingent of my Mama's side of our family, with my beautiful and precious Aunt Ruby as the centerpiece.  My cousins, her kids, some of the grandkids, great-grandkids and even the great-great-grandbaby were there.  As far as the menu was concerned, I had safe food choices and enjoyed my lunch greatly.  Turkey is a great lean protein for weight loss patients if it is not dry, and the turkey we had was moist and flavorful.  

We visited there most of the day until it was time to mosey over to Bonus Brother's house for supper with that branch of family.  Dad, Bonus Mom, Bonus Brother and his family and some friends were in attendance, and we enjoyed a feast there as well, including freshly fried catfish (yes, I ate half a piece and yes, it was delicious!  And yes, I brought home some leftover catfish to enjoy, in small portions.)  Was a fried food in strict keeping with my food plan?  No.  But I kept my portion small and enjoyed what I ate.  

Thanksgiving came and went this year without a single bite of any kind of potato passing my lips, which is a minor miracle.  No cake or pie or cookies, either.  I had 4 yogurt-covered pretzels, but not all at the same time, and a very few bites of dressing.  So while I was not 100% adherent to my program, I am claiming a victory for the holiday because I managed to eat sensible amounts and didn't even really feel like I was missing much of anything.  I will advance to phase 4 diet in a week and a half, when I will be allowed starches in small quantities.  Thanksgiving was just practice!

Changes are coming in my extended family which have us all doing a lot of soul-searching and, for those of us who pray, a lot of praying.  The time has come for my Aunt Ruby to move to an assisted living facility.  She is 87 years of age, nearly blind from diabetes that has become brittle, and needs a walker to get around.  Her kids, my cousins, are sad that this decision needed to be made, but they've done their research and this is truly the best option they found.  My prayers are that peace and comfort will attend all of us, that God's protection will be strong where it is needed most, that Aunt Ruby finds friends, engagement and companionship in her new surroundings, and that the adjustment will be a smooth one.  

Every family has someone like Aunt Ruby...or at least, every family should have someone like Aunt Ruby.  She has always been the even-keel, placid soul who brought stability to everyone else.  I don't know how my Mama would have survived raising us without Aunt Ruby's calm influence!  When my brother was very little and fussy/colicky/crying and Mama was at her wits' end, she would ask Aunt Ruby what to do.  Aunt Ruby's solution was a simple one that always seemed to help:  give the baby a warm bath.  There was nothing magical about the bath, as it turned out, except that it helped calm Mama as much as it calmed the fussy baby, and they both ended up feeling a lot better.  For years and to this day, when I am stressed, upset or needing come peace, I often find it in the bathtub (sometimes with bubbles, a book or a beverage, non-alcoholic of course).  When we were little and Mama needed a break, we'd often load up in the car and "go to Aunt Ruby's for a glass of tea".  Mama and Aunt Ruby would have their tea and their talk, and we had time to play with our cousins and whichever other neighborhood kids happened to be around.  

For many years, Aunt Ruby was a plus-sized lady as well.  When she became diabetic, she managed her condition for years by controlling her diet, and lost a lot of weight in the process.  She told me once a long time ago, after her diabetes had begun to steal her eyesight, that she would starve herself before going to the doctor in hopes of getting a good checkup, then leave the doctor's office and go get a donut on the way home.  She said she would do differently if she could go back, if it could give her a few more years of decent vision.  She made most of my clothes when I was a kid, and lots of them even through my college years, including the red satin dress I wore for my senior voice recital.  She was an avid quilter as well, often spending hours around the quilting frames with Mama and Aunt Martha and "Mamaw" Allred, our next-door neighbor until I was almost 17 years old.  Those quilts grace many of our beds, surrounding us with love and memories.  And Aunt Ruby loved to read, often devouring books into the wee hours after her family had gone to sleep.  Diabetes gradually stole her eyesight and her ability to enjoy doing the things she loved the most.

Aunt Ruby is philosophical about the coming transition and trying to see it in a positive light, as we all are.  I've been very close to her all my life and we've talked about a lot of things over the years.  In her moments of deepest sorrow and heartbreak, when she lost Uncle John, when she has had her own health problems, as she has watched her siblings die one by one, when she has agonized over the troubles of her beloved children, her response has always been the same.  She has always said, "God will take care of me."  Since I learned that she will be moving to assisted living, the old hymns have been playing in my mind and heart...the ones that assure me that God will take care of us all, that we will understand it all by and by, that His eye is on the sparrow.  That Jesus cares.  

"Does Jesus care?  I know He cares.

His heart is touched with my grief.

When the days grow weary, the long nights dreary,

I know my Savior cares."

  

Wonderful Words Of Life

Why I Read The Bible


If I have not mentioned it before, I should state that I graduated with a music degree from a Christian college.  My college choir has long observed a tradition of awarding a graduating senior a very special gift every spring.  Seniors must meet certain criteria to be eligible for the award, and then a vote is taken to determine the recipient.  The award is known as the Choir Bible.  My senior year, the Choir Bible was presented to me at the annual spring picnic.  I cried tears of joy and gratitude as I accepted this meaningful gift, humbled and overwhelmed…and ashamed.

I felt ashamed because I was not much of a Bible reader.  I felt undeserving of such an honor because, at that point in my life, although I had been a Christian for years, the Bible was something I grabbed on my way out the door either to church or to one of my religion classes.  I knew that there were seniors in my choir who managed to have a personal quiet time and devotions every day and would have really benefited from a new Bible.  The irony of the situation was not lost on me.  I don’t know what made me think to do it, but I brought that Bible in the following week, requesting that my choir-mates sign it, and those signatures and notes mean more to me with every passing year.  I began my adult exploration of God’s Word with this Bible, and years ago when I worked in Christian radio, I wagged it to work with me every day, marking passages to use in my on-air devotions.  The cover got so shabby that I sent it to be re-bound a number of years ago.

Over the years, I have become much more of a Bible reader, generally reading through it yearly.  In 2010, I joined a Bible in 90 Days Challenge group on Facebook that my college roomie was doing, (the roomie who, during our college/dorm years, read her Bible daily, first thing in the morning, without fail) and since then I have read the Bible through twice yearly, doing the 90 Day Challenge from June through August and my regular daily reading through the rest of the year (knock wood and Lord willing I will finish this year’s chosen version as well!).  Long ago I discovered that there are many Bibles formatted to be read through in a year.  Some give daily sections of Old Testament, New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs, while others go straight through.  Some have a devotion included with each day’s reading.  In 2011, I read a chronological version which divides the text up into the order that the events occurred.  I enjoyed the new perspective of the chronological version a great deal and passed it along to Bonus Mom to read this year when she expressed interest in doing it.
 
I have learned that in about 15 minutes a day, I can read through the entire Bible in a year’s time.  And I have learned that it is the single most worthwhile investment of time I can make.  Over the years that I’ve been reading regularly, gradual differences have started to show up in my life.  I find that I am a much more peaceful person now, less twitchy and obsessive about a lot of the things that used to make me crazy.  I still spin my wheels from time to time, but way less than I used to.  My prayers are different as well, taking little moments more often just to speak to God and try to listen to Him.

I have always been a re-reader, going back to revisit books that I have loved, and it always seems like when I read something for a second (or third, or fourth…) time, I pick up details that I did not catch the previous time.  The Bible is like that, too, more than any other reading I have ever done.  Every time I go through it, I glean more bits of truth than I did the time before.  Maybe my life situation is different and now a verse comes alive in a new way.  Maybe I have experienced a loss or a joy that God speaks to in a fresh way through a familiar passage.  I understand much better now why the older people in my family reached for the Bible in times of sorrow, because I find myself following their lead.  When I need comfort, God has given it in His Word.

I need to make a few disclaimers here, because I am no goody-two-shoes and I don’t claim to be.  I know I’m a black-hearted varmint.  My Bible reading doesn’t make me any less of a varmint.  It makes me conscious of how blessed I am to love the God Who loved me first, and Who loves me still, in spite of my many faults and failings, forgiving me and giving me new chances, new mercies and new blessings without ceasing.

I have unbelieving friends, and I have believing friends who don’t read the Bible.  I don’t use my Bible to beat them over the head.  What I hope to learn from my Bible is how to love them better.