{I broke my header. I shouldn’t be allowed to play with my blog.
The wonderful @MommyGeekology is currently sprinkling her fairy dust on it, so it should be back shortly!)
They don't teach this stuff in college
Wordless Wednesday: My Three Amigos Edition
Papa
I know, I know…I haven’t posted in almost a week. I think that may be a record for me!
But I think I had a pretty valid excuse.
Our family also had another life-altering event: Marshall’s grandfather died.
He was 92 years old. I’d only known him the past 10 years or so, as his health continued to decline. But even as things got more difficult for him and even when he couldn’t quite communicate what he wanted to, I never failed to feel a certain peace around Papa.
Gentle.
Quiet.
Calm.
All things I am not…and wish I were.
In the years that I knew him, I rarely heard him speak. I remember one morning at his house, only he and I were in the kitchen. I’m not usually very good at sitting and being quiet, but something about his demeanor made the silence not only comfortable, but something I craved.
Papa died a few days after my surgery. As we were preparing to make the drive for the funeral, we got word that several family members had a terrible stomach virus. Weary of anything that might cause an upset to my recovery, we all agreed it was best if the children and I didn’t go. And although I’m glad to be germ-free, there’s a part of me that wishes I’d gone. I’ve never been good with closure. Death, no matter how expected and no matter what age, tends to pull the rug out from under your feet, doesn’t it?
But he lived a good life. He was happy. More than happy, he was content.
Papa was a proud WWII Army Veteran who found himself far, far from south Georgia when he landed on Normandy beach. He was a dedicated husband and father. He was the Postmaster of his then-tiny town for years. Proud of his heritage, he was a member of the Georgia Salzburger Society. And I recently learned something that I’d never known about Papa: he was one of the founding members of the local fire department back in the 1950s, and he was fire chief in the 1960s.
To honor Papa, the local fire department did something I’ve never seen before. They put two trucks on either side of the road and use the extended ladders to form an arc across the roadway. You can see the display in the video here.
What a beautiful tribute to a wonderful man.
Coblation Tonsillectomy Post-Op Information
(Not really written so much for my regular readers, but for folks looking on post-op information. Before my surgery, I searched high and low for something like this and found nothing. So here’s hoping that I can help someone else!)
So most of you know that I had a tonsillectomy last Wednesday. I had heard many, many horror stories and had been putting it off for years because of all the hullabaloo(yes, I just used the word hullabaloo…face it, it’s a fun word to say!).
Luckily during the time between when I should have gotten it done and when I actually got it done, a new procedure had been developed and perfected. Also luckily, one of our friends from medical school completed her ENT residency and was more than happy to take me on as a patient. (Thanks, Melanie!)
So my wicked-smaht friend suggested that we use the new technology and do a coblation tonsillectomy instead of the traditional method. She warned me that it was really going to hurt, and made me promise that I wouldn’t hold it against her.
And after all the crazy-wild “you’re not gonna die, but wish you were dead” stories that I got from most people, and after Melanie’s warning…I was plain out scared. Well, not so much scared as petrified; completely mortified that the pain was going to be so bad that I couldn’t tolerate it. As a matter of fact, I was planning on just making sure I was drugged up enough that I slept through most of the pain.
But, only 12 hours after my surgery, I’m feeling great! It hurts, of course, but nothing like that round of strep in January that tried to kill me. I’m taking my antibiotics(liquid) and keeping a low-dose of (liquid) pain meds in my system. (Why tempt fate by letting that run out unnecessarily?) But since I’ve gotten out of the hospital, I haven’t thrown up or taken any anti-nausea medications. (For me, that’s an amazing feat!)
I have also heard that somewhere around Day 3 to 5, it really hits you. Here’s to hoping “they” are wrong, just like “they” were wrong about how intense the initial pain would be. Also, most of the info I got was from people who’d had the traditional cut’em out surgery. Even after looking online for more info on post-op pain, I found very few personal accounts. (There are plenty of stats out there but stats, after all, are really just numbers.)
So…here’s my running diary of my coblation tonsillectomy.
Each day you’ll see a pain rating. It is based on this scale.
Surgery Day(Wed):
Pain Rating: 5
- Reported to hospital around 5:45AM, hungry and cold.
(I’m not a morning person. I’m even less of a morning person if I can’t eat.) - Got all the paperwork completed and changed into a gown.
- In the OR “holding tank” by around 7.
- Happy meds….lalala…remember nothing.
- Vaguely remember Melanie coming to me in post-op and telling me that it was a good thing I got them out.
- The good Dr. Seybt goes in to talk to Marshall and my parents. Tell them that my tonsils were absolutely disgusting and she doesn’t often see tonsils with that much scar tissue on them.
- A bumpy ride from the recovery room to my room leaves me a bit motion sick and I throw up.
It hurts, but I still have a good bit of anesthesia helping me out, so it doesn’t hurt too much. - The anti-nausea medication makes me sleepy, and doesn’t help my nausea all that much.
- After throwing up a few more times, I ended up trying to sleep it off.
- I finally brave getting dressed and leave the hospital.
- I sleep most of the day until around 6pm.
- By now I’ve had a couple of popcicles, a pudding cup and some ice cream.
- Marshall and Jesse eat Chick-fil-A, which is just mean, and I sneak one piece.
It goes down fairly easily, but I know better than to push my luck too much. - I’m not talking too much, but trying to drink. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.
(I don’t think I’ve ever peed so much in my life!) - Still not much pain, just wondering when the other shoe’s gonna fall, since all I’ve ever heard were horror stories.
- Can’t seem to sleep now because I slept so much today.
Day 1 Post-Op(Thurs):
Pain Rating: 3 for throat, 6 for body
- Woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a mack truck. Not my throat, mind you, but my oh-so-stiff body.
I feel like the surgical staff must have made me do some crazy yoga during my surgery.
There’s no other way to explain this soreness. - Realize that the soreness is actually from when I threw up. I threw up hard and used every muscle in my body.
- Throat doesn’t hurt all that much, but keeping the pain meds going steadily.
Day 2 Post-Op(Fri):
Pain Rating: 3 for throat, 4 for body
- Kept pain meds going fairly steadily.
- Even when pain meds ran out, I didn’t feel horrible.
- Felt good enough to go to the store and buy a notebook.
- Kept liquids and popsicles going non-stop.
- Foods for today: scrambled eggs, soft part of hashbrown casserole, grits, jello, pudding
Day 3 Post-Op(Sat):
Pain Rating: 3
- Mostly same as Friday.
- Tried to do too much on Saturday morning and ended up getting nauseous.
- Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!!!!
- Food for today: oatmeal, chicken and stars soup
Day 4 Post-op(Sun):
Pain Rating: 3
- Had problems with nausea on and off all day long.
- Slept a lot today.
- Pain not so bad, but nausea was overwhelming at times.
- Inner ear pain is worse than throat pain, but even it isn’t so bad.
- Could ear pain possibly contributing to nausea?
- Ear pain is, I think, coming from the fact that the scab came off the right side.
- I think I have have had some throat bleeding that went down into my stomach, causing the nausea.
- Food for today: oatmeal, pasta with cheese sauce
Day 5 Post-op(Mon):
Pain Rating: 5, 6-7 when pain meds wear off
- Even with pain meds, I don’t feel like talking today.
- I haven’t been drinking like I should so that’s probably contributing to the problem.
- I’m starving, but nothing tastes good.
- If it tastes good, I probably can’t eat it.
- Tried to eat vegetable soup, but the tomato base was too acidic.
- On the up side, I’ve lost 7 pounds since Wednesday.
- Food for today: grits, fresh fruit popcicles, ice
Day 6 Post-op(Tues):
Pain Rating: 6-7
- Coughed a good bit last night, so my throat is raw.
- Throat feels more swollen today than before.
- Scabs on on left side fell off sometime last night.
- Felt good enough to go get my hair done, but by the time I got back home I was exhausted. From sitting in a chair. Ridiculous.
- So yeah…BIG DEAL. Sitting in my bed doing nothing. Realize that I think my nose is bleeding. Actually, no…it’s my throat and there’s A LOT of blood in my mouth. And by a lot, I mean about 200 cc’s(which is, ya know, about the size of one of those little milk cartons you used to get at school).
- Called my husband, who rushed home. He called my doc. We all three discussed it.
- Conventional wisdom says rush back to the OR and re-cauterize the bleeder. But there are a lot of docs who say if it’s just one bleeder, see if you can stop it before going back under anesthesia.
- Got it stopped relatively quickly and was super-cognizant about whether I was bleeding at all.
- Even more insistent on staying hydrated.
- No more bleeding and SO very thankful I didn’t have to go back to the OR!
Day 7 Post-Op(Wed):
Pain Rating: 4, even without pain meds
- Went with my dad to the kid’s school for a little while, and it wore me slap out!
- Took a long, long nap and forgot to take my antibiotic. :-(
- Swallowing easier, throat feels much better but any activity leaves me exhausted.
- Although I’ve lost 10 pounds in a week, I don’t suggest this diet. I’m starving.
- I am sick sick sick of jello, pudding, soup and other “smooth” foods…but I’m afraid that I have at least 3 more days of a “smooth” diet.
So my big words of wisdom:
Just take your pain meds on a schedule. Don’t do it p.r.n.
And BUY PLASTIC SPOONS! Sure, you’ll look at your silverware drawer and think, “I have tons of spoons!” But when you use nothing but spoons for days on end, you run out faster than you think.
I’ve been told that I can resume picking up my children after 2 weeks, and that I can try to sing after 4 weeks.
I’ll try to remember to come and update on this post after that (so that all the info will be in one place)!
Praying in Color
About a year ago, I found a book called “Praying in Color” by Sybil McBeth. I’ve mentioned it in passing a few times on my blog, but today I saw this post by Pensieve Robin, whom I met at Blissdom, and realized that I’d never really given many details about it.
I am a usually a wordy person.
However, there are times when I just don’t know what to say or how to say it.
That happens to me a lot when I pray.
A lot of stuff happens to me when I pray.
My mind wanders off to my to-do list.
I find myself using grandiose language, and then feel silly
because…really? God don’t need big words. (Or good grammar.)
I drift off to sleep.
I say my tried-and-true rote prayers and check “Say Prayers” off my list.
I face a lot of hurdles when I try to pray,
and I’m willing to bet that you do, too.
So I did what any scholarly person would do when met with a problem: I researched.
What is the best way to pray?
How should you structure your prayers?
How do you going about setting up a prayer journal?
I read and read and read about lots of styles of prayers.
I saw what worked for other people,
And yet I struggled…
“Why isn’t this working for me?
I’m a good person.
I love God.
I want more of a relationship with the Almighty.
What’s wrong with me?
Why can’t I pray the right way?”
And it was that last question that really set me off.
Why can’t I pray the right way?
What is the “right” way to pray?
And it was then, after months of searching and seeking that I stumbled across this book.
An answer to my prayers…the ones I didn’t really know I was praying.
The answer to my months of seeking and researching and studying.
The author’s words struck me with a force that shocked me and comforted me all at once.
Her thoughts were like my thoughts:
I know about centering prayer, contemplative prayer, walking prayer, healing prayer, soaking prayer, meditation, praying in tongues-I took the workshops and read the books. I’ve dabble in all of them. But a short attention span and a proclivity for daydreams hamper my efforts…The words of my prayers and the words of my distractions collide in an unholy mess. On a good day, when words flow with more ease, I become so impressed with my successful articulation that I become the center of my own worship. It is not a reverent sight.
She goes on to talk about how “praying in color” happened to come to her. Sitting on her back porch with a pen and paper, she began to write the name of someone on her prayer list. She drew a shape around the name and continued to doodle and decorate, all the while focusing on that person.
In the Praying in Color Kids’ Edition, she wrote:
As she drew, she pictured each person in the presence and care of God. She used no words.
The drawing was the prayer.
It spoke to me.
This kind of praying?
This I can do.
During my recovery from my tonsillectomy, I have been very cautious about when and how I use my words.
When you the amount you can speak is decreased, the weight of your words tends to change.
(There’s a whole post hiding in that last sentence, I’m sure!)
I am so grateful to know that now, when it even hurts to think about speaking, God doesn’t need words to hear your prayers.
Sometimes I free-hand my prayers.
Other times I turn to printed materials, such as the geometric one seen below or mandalas like this.
I share with you my prayer:
Six Word Saturday
I really miss eating “real” food.
So…I’m not dead.
If you follow me on Twitter or if we’re facebook friends, then you’ve probably figured out that I had my surgery and I didn’t die.
And actually so far it hasn’t been nearly as bad as I expected. The horror stories that people told me had me scared senseless.
Supposedly the next few days are going to be the worst, so please keep the good thoughts, prayers and such coming this way.
The Little Man.
I spend every moment of every day with you.
You don’t go to school.
You don’t have ball practice.
You don’t go on play dates.
So often it’s you and me…
doing errands,
playing with the ball,
singing and dancing to the Glee soundtracks
with reckless abandon in the living room.
You are my side kick.
You laugh often and make me laugh often.
You love with your whole being.
You hug and kiss and snuggle.
You can always find just the right spot to nestle in
And it warms me to the core.
I spend every moment of every day with you,
And yet sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.
Slow down.
Don’t change so fast.
I love you, little man.
He.
*One of my favorite posts, reposted from June 25, 2009 but with a new picture.*
You smell like a boy.
Not a baby, not a little boy.
But a real, stinky, sweaty boy.
Your hands are covered in dirt and grim.
Your cheeks are dusty,
Except for the tear tracks left from a now-forgotten playground tragedy.
It’s time for naps.
You’ve outgrown naps, but you still “rest”.
But today? Today you ask me to hold you.
How can I say no to that?
So we crawl into bed.
And I cradle both you and your sister in my arms.
And I realize that I am the luckiest person in the world.
You take your grimy, dirty hands and rub them across my cheeks.
You flutter your fingers over my closed eyelids
Just like I’ve done to you a thousand times.
And I completely don’t care about how dirty your hands are.
Or how my precious pillow is probably going to stink now.
All I think is, “I love you.”
And then I think, “I almost chose to check my email.”
I’m glad I didn’t.
The world can wait.
She.
My girlie-girl.
Pink, purple and glitter.
So unlike me with all the glam and fluff.
But so much like me with her determination and independence.
She, who up until a few days ago said “firty” and “I’m finking”, now clearly speaks “thirty” and “I’m thinking”.
She wants to play ball…as long as she can do it in a dress.
I probably won’t die, but just in case…
On Wednesday, I’m having surgery. In the big scheme of things, it’s minor. A tonsillectomy. (Luckily, a coblation tonsillectomy which should hurt a little less than the traditional deal.) And though I’ve been promised that “it’s gonna hurt like hang”, I’m hoping for a good outcome. Excruciating pain for a few days will be much, much better than this bi-monthly recurring dull & frustrating throat and ear pain to which I am accustomed.
But I have to admit that while I am looking forward to next week when I can eat what I want and swallow without crying, I am not looking forward to the surgery or recovery. I’ve had enough surgical procedures to know that I don’t take well to anesthesia. I also know that although I can be a really big wuss when I stub my toe, when it comes to the major pain I take it like a big girl. I can be tough. I will be tough.
But right now?
Right now I’m scared.
And I can’t help but wonder about the what ifs?
What if something happens and I can’t sing anymore…or, God forbid, speak!
That would be devastating.
What if that 1% of fatal complications is me?
What if, at 30 years and some odd days, I’m through? My jig is up?
I know it’s unlikely, and I know I should just push it out of my mind.
But I can’t.
And so I find myself sitting here thinking and typing instead of packing for the hospital trip.
And I wonder…what if I died?
Morbid, I know…but hang with me a minute.
I’m not worried about my afterlife. I am a Christian and I do believe in heaven.
And I believe that should I die, I’d go there.
(Although I must admit that the image of mansions and streets of gold don’t really…um…fit the bill of my idea of heaven.)
But what I do worry about is what I’d leave behind.
Obviously I’d hate to leave Marshall and the children.
For selfish reasons, I’d like to be around to see the children grow up,
and to be old and gray with Marshall, holding hands on the front porch while watching the sun set.
But even that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m going back to that damn purpose problem.
Is my purpose fulfilled?
How can I even know if I’ve fulfilled my purpose if I don’t even know what my purpose is?
Have I been a good enough mother, wife, friend, person?
Would I be leaving behind a legacy that I’d be proud of?
(Would it bother me in heaven that I ended that sentence with “of” instead of saying “legacy of which I’d be proud”?
‘Cause it sure ’nuff bothers me on earth…but it also sounds weird.)
Would I be remembered for making a positive impression on people?
Would I be remembered for always doing my best to help and encourage others?
Would I be remembered as a nice person?
I don’t believe that nicer people get a better seat in heaven.
And I’m a big believer in faith, not works.
And although it’s ultimately not about the stuff I did or didn’t do, I still wanted to be remembered fondly.
I want to be remembered as a good person, a fair person, a loving person.
I want to be one of those people that others remember with a smile.
Remember the time Bridget did so and so?
Remember how she’d make us laugh?
I want to be remembered for speaking kindly to and of others.
I want to be remembered for being gentle and fair.
I want to be remembered for being loving and witty.
I want to be remembered for being a good provider for my family,
and for being strong, graceful and cheerful,
and for being sensible and thoughtful.
And if I want to be remembered for that kind of stuff, I need to be sure that I’m doing that stuff now.
And so here, while I sit and struggle with my silly purpose dilemma,
I realize that my purpose isn’t really a one-purpose kind of thing.
It’s a call to be authentic and genuine and loving.
My purpose is to do good and to love others.
And my purpose above all purposes is to teach my children how to do these things.
And that? If I can do that…well I will have succeeded in fulfilling my purpose.
And I will be remembered.
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I'm Bridget Ivey,
mom to 3 kids,
2 dogs and
a husband
(also known as The Ivey League).
Carter is 5.
Lydia is 3.
Asa is 1.
The dogs are old and grumpy.
So is my husband. (Just kidding.) -
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This work by http://theiveyleague.com is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.