Monthly Archives: December 2014

The Many Faces of Bravery

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Fog at DuskBravery comes in many different flavors, colors and layers. In recent weeks, I have come to reflect on and recognize some specific things that I consider acts of bravery.

When I was in Houston four weeks ago for my surgery, I was pretty focused on myself and just getting it done and getting home. The last day we were there, I got to go to the MD Anderson beauty shop and have my hair washed and dried. As Keith and I worked our way down to the beauty shop, we passed lots of people in various stages of cancer treatment. When we got to the waiting room, I was about 6th down the list so I waited and watched ladies come and go to get something done with their hair too. As we were leaving I looked into Keith’s eyes and said, “I hope I don’t ever get cancer, I don’t think I’m tough enough to go through the treatment. I have only been here five days and I’m sick of feeling bad.” Forgetting momentarily that HE went through a very difficult treatment himself, he responded with, “You do what you have to do.” That took me right back to five years ago when I was the caregiver and he was the patient. I remember how hard I thought it was for him, but I understand now that I really had no comprehension for how difficult it was. My husband will continue to be one of the bravest people I know for enduring that treatment and coming out on the other side healthy, happy and still in love with me. I am honored to be his wife each and every day.

We have all known people who are battling or have battled some major disease. Some of these people we love made it and some did not.  Let me tell you about three of my favorite ladies who did not make it but they are never very far from my mind and each very brave.

In 1996 I took the job I have now as the administrative assistant for the superintendent of schools for my local school district. It is the school district that I attended all 12 years and the school district that my children also graduated from. I am a proud Ardmore Tiger. I had never worked for a school system before. I had worked for the federal government, a newspaper, a retailer and an oil company. But if you have good skills as a secretary, you can be an asset anywhere. Across the hall from me was a woman by the name of Brenda Rickard. Tall, beautiful, bubbly, smart and my new friend. She was the person that did public relations for my school district. I really didn’t know what that meant, but that’s was she did. In 1999 we got a new superintendent and things got shook up around the office and Brenda eventually became the assistant superintendent. Her office was now right next to mine. We could now talk every day and I could learn from her. Her position as PR person was not filled so she started teaching me what she knew about school PR. Brenda thought I would be great at helping in this area and I quickly grew to love it. Of course my main job was still the superintendent’s administrative assistant so there wasn’t a lot of time to spend on PR, but it was never far from my mind. I had the privilege of working with Brenda for several years before she took a superintendent’s job in Texas. I can still remember the day she called me and told me she had breast cancer. I felt an absolute terror run through me and cried all the way home in the car. She fought very bravely for years, but lost her battle a few short years ago. Today I fight even harder to get good information about my school district out to the public. I am passionate about it and it is completely because of a wonderful woman. Thank you Brenda. You are still mentoring me today.

In 1981 I met a woman that would become my mother in law, Diane Swim. We became fast friends and I loved her dearly.   She was only 14 years older than me so even though she was technically my mother in law, she really felt like an older sister. We would talk about all kinds of things and there were some things that she shared with me that her own son did not even know. I felt honored that she loved me enough to trust me with that information.

She was very talented and creative. When I met her she was into ceramics and she created some of the most beautiful ceramic pieces I had ever seen, some I still have today. Whatever the holiday was, she had something decorative for it. We also loved to go antique shopping together. She could take old pieces of anything and make it awesome. I credit her for my ability to decorate my own house, because she taught me how. In my twenties I would sit in her kitchen and watch her cook big family meals. She had it down to a science and was cleaning the kitchen as she went. By the time you were ready to eat, the kitchen did not look like a bomb had gone off. Years later I have noticed that I do the same thing. Christmas was her favorite holiday and every room in her house was decorated. I remember the year she had a big tree in the living room and another tree in her dining room. How fun I thought. She would have us all over to make Christmas cookies. I had never done that before and it quickly became a tradition in the family, which her daughter continues to this day. I cannot get through any Christmas without thinking about her. Ten years after we met, I divorced her son, but I did not divorce her. We continued to remain friends and confidants for years. Diane too was diagnosed with cancer and she battled it quietly and bravely for years. We all had to say goodbye to her just four short years ago. Thank you Diane for being my friend and loving me. You taught me so many things over the years and you will always be a light in my soul.

How do I even begin to tell you about my mom, Margarett Haralson? There’s not enough space on the Internet or paper on the earth to tell you everything. My mom taught me many things very quietly. As a child, I idolized my dad. He could absolutely do no wrong. I was probably quite a bit like him. After I became a wife and mother, I began to notice a shift. I was becoming more like my mother and that was not a bad thing. She was patient and kind. I cannot recall her ever speaking ill will towards anyone, a trait I’m still working on. Unconditional love, that was my mom and now that I’m a mom, I understand. You may not always like what your children are doing, but you always love them. I know there were times in my life when she did not like what I was doing and thought I had lost my mind, which I probably had. She never made any judgments, but was always there in support whenever I needed it.

In 1994 she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. My mom was real good at hiding just how bad she felt. She was on various medications for her Parkinson’s but the medication never lasted long enough. She continued working until around 2002 when she just finally had to give it up. We began to discover that we had to plan events around her medication when she would have her “on” periods and the “on” periods got shorter and shorter. She was on all the medication she could be on and nothing really seemed to work for very long. But again, she was great at hiding it.

In 2007 her neurologist suggested she see a surgeon in Dallas about having surgery to implant a stimulator to help control her Parkinson’s. So here’s my 77 year old mother contemplating brain stimulator surgery!   My dad kept talking to her about having the surgery as if it would cure her. I kept having to remind him that the surgery would not cure anything, but the hope was that it would make her quality of life better. I’m not sure my dad ever understood that. Mom decided to have the surgery so on February 14, 2007 we went to Dallas and she had surgery. I would love to tell you that it made a huge difference for the better, but alas it really didn’t. In fact, it created new problems and the last two and a half years of her life were very difficult for her and my dad. It just broke my heart. In August of 2009 she took her last breath and heaven got one more angel.

So here I was four short weeks ago getting ready to have brain surgery when my thoughts drifted back to my mom. She had brain surgery at 77 years old. How brave was that? If she could do it surely I could do it. As we were walking to the surgery center that morning, that was my mantra. Holding my hand for that long walk was my survivor husband and whispering to me softly was my mom saying, “You can do this.” Thank you mom for not only being my perfect mom here on earth, but also encouraging me from beyond all understanding. It is always my hope that you would be proud of me today and that my actions help to keep your memory alive.

Bravery indeed and three very special women who continue to shape my life. Three lights may have gone out on earth, but heaven is an even more special place.   When we see each other again, we will have lots to talk about.

Peace be with you.

 

 

 

 

 

The Magic of Christmas

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xboxDuring this time of year, I always seem to reflect back to my childhood and the years my children were small. While I understood why we had Christmas and loved hearing the stories about the birth of Jesus, the second part of Christmas was absolutely magical. As an only child, I probably believed in Santa longer than most. I think I was around 9 before my best gal pal Mary put it in my head that there was no Santa.

Deciding each year on my “Santa gift”, was a big deal for me. It usually involved a doll of some kind but I remember one year I could not make up my mind. I think I told each Santa that I visited that year a different doll. Finally my mom told me that I had to make up my mind because I was confusing Santa’s helpers. My mom would always get the big Wishbook catalog in November and I couldn’t wait to look at all the toys. My favorite pages were the baby doll pages. Would it be a doll that talked, peed into a diaper, cried real tears, danced like a ballerina, or wound up and moved like a real baby? What to do, what to do.

Then there were the Christmas lights. My dad was not a put lights on our house kind of guy. In fact, I think my mom only talked him into it once. But he would take me all over town to look at the lights on the houses of other people. In fact, we did it a lot. There was one house that really went all out and they even opened their garage which had been turned into Santa’s workshop. Cars would line up for blocks to just drive by. Our major department store would put up a huge window display with puppets that was also one of my favorite things to see at Christmas.

Our Christmas tree until I was in 4th grade was one of those silver trees with red and blue ornaments. I can remember helping my mother every year put those silver shiny sticks into the pole and adorning the tree with red and blue ornaments. I thought everyone had a silver tree. Boy was Ishocked when I found out they didn’t. The following year I talked my mom into getting an artificial GREEN tree. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. The next year, my mom and I attempted to spray snow on it with the cans of snow you could buy to flock your own tree. I think we had to throw it away after that Christmas but bought an even nicer artificial green tree the next year. It is interesting how we never discussed getting a “real” tree. Just wasn’t the thing to do in the 70’s.

Christmas Eve was the night I could open one gift and it seems it was always new jammies, which I loved. Trying to get to sleep was difficult because I knew Santa was out driving around in his sleigh. I was always a bit concerned about how he was going to get into my house because we did not have a chimney.   Laying in my bed waiting for the sandman to put me to sleep, I tried very hard to hear the jingle bells of the sleigh. Sometimes I would get up and peek out my bedroom window looking for Rudolph’s red nose. Sometimes I even saw it! Of course now I’m pretty sure that was a plane in the sky, but as a child who REALLY believed, it was exciting.

Now the magic really happened on Christmas morning when I would get up and wonder quietly into the living room to find that Santa had been there. He had even eaten the cookies I left out for him. Squealing into my parent’s room I would go. He came, he came!!!!!   Oh what a feeling.

So having the wonderful Christmas memories I had as a child, I of course wanted my children to have that same magical experience. The only difference is that I have to be the one to pull that off. That is a lot of pressure year after year to get just what they wanted and get it under that tree without them knowing it. I wonder if my mom felt the same way. Well I am very proud to say that I managed to continue the tradition and was never caught. My children got up every Christmas morning to the magic of Santa and as excited as they were, my heart would swell with the absolute love I felt for them and knowing I had made their day. That is when I began to understand that giving was even more fun than getting and each year I would work even harder to make it more magical for them.

The last little bit of magic I got to dole out at Christmas was when my son was in high school. Years after they stopped believing in Santa, I would always ask my kids to select one special gift that could be from “Santa”. I would wrap it up, put a tag on it from Santa and they would open it on Christmas morning. Now my son is a massive “gamer” and he loves Xbox, PlayStation, Nintendo and whatever else is out there. This particular Christmas, the newest and greatest game system was coming out and it was the Xbox 360. That is what Craig said he wanted from Santa. I looked high and low for this. His dad in Oklahoma City looked high and low for this. Nothing. They sold out like hotcakes and there was a nationwide shortage. Craig knew this and that there was a 99.99% chance that Santa would not be able to deliver this year. He took it in stride, which absolutely broke my heart. Even at 17, I wanted Christmas to still be magical for him. I was so disappointed that the magic was not going to happen.

Two days before Christmas, I am in our local Wal-Mart picking up groceries for Christmas dinner when I decided to just walk through the gaming department. I casually glanced at the case where the Xbox should have been and noticed that there were two items that looked like Xboxes. I stopped and looked again, read the box which said “Xbox”.  Were my eyes deceiving me? Was this a cruel joke? I grabbed a sales associate and asked if they had any Xboxes and she said no. Then I asked her to follow me. I pointed to the two boxes behind the glass case and said, “What are those?” She replied, “Those are Xboxes. I guess we got a couple in.” OMG. Is she kidding me? I stood my ground and said, “I need one of those immediately.” Then someone came up behind me and asked for the other one. Talk about timing, or was it “magic”. I was going to be able to give Craig a magical Christmas after all.

Keith wrapped the package for me in a very large box, inside of a smaller box then another smaller box until the final box, THE XBOX! For as long as I live, the look on my son’s face was the most magical of all. It was a Christmas miracle.

This year Keith and I are traveling to Little Rock to spend Christmas with my daughter and her family. I get to sit back and watch how Loni and Charles create the magic for Max and Molly. I can’t wait to see their little faces light up on Christmas morning when they realize that Santa came, ate the cookies and drank the milk they left him. The magic of Christmas continues.

It’s a Process

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Water Trees

I am ready to admit that I underestimated the magnitude of this surgery. Twelve days ago I had my acoustic neuroma brain tumor removed and I am now home recuperating, thanks be to God. I had a couple of months to mentally prepare for this event, connected with others who had acoustic neuromas removed and I simply felt like super woman when I got ready to go. I was jolly in the office, joked about having a brain tumor and tried to make it as simple in my mind as I could. But again, sometimes I can be wrong.

The day before my surgery was spent on pre-op appointment after appointment. Not a lot of time to think about the event itself. My final test for that day came after 5 p.m. with my surgical MRI and by 6:45, my mind began to spill over into what the next day might hold. I began to feel the small pangs of fear within me. Not wanting to show that, I tried to keep the stiff upper lip. My daughter finally arrived which was a wonderful thing, but seeing her made me more vulnerable. I don’t get to see her a lot so when I do I get emotional. This was no exception.   So here the four of us were, my husband, my son and my daughter, trying to make small talk Wednesday evening and trying to mentally prepare ourselves for the next day, which would start at 4:15 a.m.

We were told to check in for surgery at 5:15 so at 5 a.m. we all started the journey from our hotel rooms across the street to surgery. We were walking together but my insides were screaming. Keep it together Marcy. When we arrived there were lots of people there waiting to check in as well. Guess it was a big surgery day in the hospital. It finally got to be my turn. I checked in and thank God they let my family come back and be with me until they took me to surgery. I was on the verge of tears every second and I did not want to cry in front of my family. I needed to show them I was ok and strong, right? Initially they only allowed two people in the family to be with you at a time. But my daughter has never been one to take NO very well, so next thing I know, there she is. Good job Loni.

We continue to make small talk while all the people come in and out of the room explaining to us what is going to happen and asking me 9,000 questions and most of them are the same questions. At this point all I can think of is I am ready for you guys to knock me out because I am scared to death. It is finally time and they start to wheel me out of the room and then it happened. A few tears leaked from the corner of my eyes and then there was nothing.

I am thrilled to tell you that all of my tumor was removed and I have no facial nerve damage and at the moment still have some hearing in my bad ear. My balance nerve is a bit woozy, but that is normal and one of the things I will be adjusting to few for quite a while. My 1.48 cm tumor was removed with the Retrosigmoid/sub-occipital surgical approach, which involves exposing the back of the tumor by opening the skull near the back of the head. This approach can be used for removing large tumors and offers the possibility of preserving hearing. The surgery was scheduled for 10 hours but was concluded in 5 ½! Now the process begins.

My memories of those five days in the hospital are blurred and acute depending on the day and event. I remember telling my husband on more than one occasion that this was harder than I had anticipated. In fact, I may have said it to him daily. At first they kept me pretty drugged to keep me comfortable. I have never had morphine before but when the nurse would come in and put it in my IV, I knew it. Didn’t know much after that, but I could feel it move through my body. That was weird. After a couple of days I tried to back off of some of the drugs because it just made me feel groggy and icky. I had no appetite and of course my nurses were constantly concerned about the amount of fluids going in and out of me and almost every conversation included the questions, “have you pooped today?” Leave me alone people.

Now for those of you who have been in the hospital or have had loved ones in the hospital, you know that getting a good night’s sleep is rare. I mean you can start off sleeping great, but someone has to come in every few hours and check your blood pressure, temperature and put that little clip on your finger to check your oxygen levels. I had gotten pretty good at just having my arm ready and literally sleeping through it. The last morning I was there, my 4:50 a.m. blood pressure nurse comes in and does her thing and I did mine. She leaves and as I am just dropping back to sleep she steps back in my room and she is asking me something. Well first off she is talking to me from my bad ear so I have no idea what she is saying. I turned over a little and said “what?” She repeats herself; “Since 11 p.m., how much liquid have you had to drink and have you pooped.” Now I know I just had brain surgery and I am on pain pills at night, but I’m not sure I heard her correctly. I make eye contact this time and said, “WHAT?” She repeated the question. Is she kidding me? I have been asleep since 9 p.m., and under the influence of pain meds. When would I have been up drinking and pooping? Didn’t she wake me just five minutes ago to take my blood pressure? I am sure the “tone” of my response was not very friendly, but at that moment I really didn’t care. I looked sternly at her and told her I had been asleep since 9. That was the morning I knew I needed to go home.

So this morning I begin my seventh day at home. I can tell that I still have inflammation because hearing out of either of my ears is difficult. Too many sounds at one time are difficult and become unbearable. My eyes are very sensitive to light. I exist in a constant state of wooziness with the feeling of cotton in my head. It’s a process.   I started out really well getting out a walking those first few days at home and I was beginning to think I was super woman again, then my dosage of the steroid I was being given got cut in half and my reality changed. Didn’t realize how much the steroid was boosting me. I know now. Had a bit of a setback day Saturday because of it, but it is what it is. Keith went back to work yesterday morning so it’s just me and the dogs. I am sick of TV and sick of sitting around and this is only my first week home to recuperate. Typing and reading is difficult as my ability to focus on words for very long is difficult. So much for catching up on my reading right away. I guess it’s good to remember that I’m not on vacation here. I am undertaking a very difficult job, recuperating from surgery.

The stiches come out Thursday and the following day I CAN WASH MY HAIR. Keith has been washing out my hair in the kitchen sink for me every other day or so which has helped, but I need to be able to do it myself and actually try and style it. Then my surgeon tells me that I have to wait three months to touch up my hair color. Get ready friends, we are all getting ready to see the actual color of my hair and I’m scared. Maybe you should be too.

So the process will continue and each day will be better. Taking things slow and being patient will have to become my new normal. All in all I feel pretty good and am grateful to be on the other side of it. So this holiday season will be at a slow pace in the King household and that is ok. I may get some Christmas decorations out and maybe I won’t. Maybe a tree goes up and maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll wrap packages, maybe I won’t. But whatever I do, it will be with peace and love in my heart and a grateful attitude that I’m Ok [thanks be to God].

Peace be with you.