Life Lessons
Tuesday, May 27, 2008, by Sherra
Let me start by saying I’m doing my my civic duty to educate any readers who weren’t sure what yesterday’s Memorial Day signifies here in our country.
Cities all around the United States hold their own ceremonies on the last Monday in May to pay respect to the men and women who have died in wars or in the service of their country.
Memorial Day is not limited to honor only those Americans from the armed forces. It is also a day for personal remembrance. Families and individuals honor the memories of their loved ones who have died. Church services, visits to the cemetery, flowers on graves or even silent tribute mark the day with dignity and solemnity. It is a day of reflection. However, to many Americans the day also signals the beginning of summer with a three-day weekend to spend at the beach, in the mountains or at home relaxing.
The above is an excerpt from this website in case you want to prepare your next year’s homeschool lesson and you need more history, quizzes, puzzles and fun about Memorial Day. Oh yeah, I am a planner - just ask my kids about those homeschooling years and how organized I was. Always getting things ready a year in advance. I’m like that.
I do hope that you were able to take a little time to say a quiet prayer or pay special tribute to our armed forces who continue to serve our country with such honor.
So many relatives and friends have served that if I started to list them, I know I would leave someone out. Right now, my cousin Sally’s son, Rob, is serving in Iraq.
And of course, you all got to read the special words my friend Ann’s husband shared right here.
There is never a time that a story or a picture of our our military doesn’t choke me up.
(Arlington National Cemetery - May 22, 2008) — Flags stand vigil at gravesites in Arlington National Cemetary. The 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard) began their rounds to place a small American flag into the ground in front of every grave marker at Arlington National Cemetery for the upcoming Memorial Day observance. (Photo by Adam Skoczylas).
Memories
But Memorial Day does more than choke me up.
Every year PhilBillPaul and I take time to remember how our lives changed and what we have survived.
Today marks 20 years to the day.
May 27th, 1988.
The day we were hit head-on by a drunk driver.
We never forget the irony of that Memorial Day weekend when we went to see this movie before the crash.
I’ll never forget the stories of what happened that I’ve been told. Because I really don’t remember anything.
The phone call he had to make to Illinois to tell my parents.
The last thing my mom remembers him saying before they hung up.
“Oh, and you should probably know she’s on a respirator.”
PhilBillPaul has always had a way with words. This time we didn’t argue about it.
It’s hard to argue when you’re in a coma…
Eleven days in a coma.
I’ve lost count of how many times people have asked…
Do you remember waking up?
Could you hear people talking to you?
Did you see a white light?
No, no and no.
I do vaguely remember pulling out my IV and other various tubes because I needed to get all the doctors together for a conference call to Portugal.
Who knew they gave coma patients such big responsibilities?
(I think this is also called hallucinating.)
I am still not sure where Portugal is.
I clearly remember my mom telling me to behave and answer the doctors’ questions correctly or they would think I was crazy. I remember her telling me through gritted teeth “This is no time to be funny.”
See, I was funny before the coma. Some people think I’m still funny.
So much to learn when you wake up from a coma.
Did you know that when you have been hospitalized for close to 30 days that you shouldn’t raise your arms up when you have guests? Luckily my mom was there to motion from across the room and hiss whisper
“Put your arms down!”
“WHY?” I said in a very loud voice.
More hand gestures and pointing and my brain worked well enough at that moment to realize that visitors didn’t want to see four weeks of my new European unshaven look.
Whatever. Like I really cared. I was alive.
Miracles
Brain injury, rehab, therapy…
I believe.
20 years later, I believe more than ever.
Tonight, after we put Scary Baby to bed, we might even get crazy and watch the DVD we have of the crash scene and me being loaded on the LifeFlight helicopter to remind our three driving teenagers that they are not in control of everything.
Who knew that an ambulance chaser with a new video camera would provide us with such a teaching tool for our then, yet-to-be-born children?
Don’t think we’re being morbid. We will have popcorn and celebrate, I promise!
I hope you and your loved ones remain safe and happy.
I truly hope you all enjoyed a three day weekend filled with fun memories and fabulous miracles…
Life Lesson (LL): Little or big. They’re all around us. Miracles happen every single day.
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Feel free to ask me any *coma* questions…people still seem to be fascinated and I don’t mind. 
Share a miracle in your life…your miracle can serve as such inspiration for someone else!
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Categories: Finding the Funny, Life Lessons, Milestones
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Monday, May 19, 2008, by Sherra
It’s graduation week here in the South. The open houses and parties have begun.
We’ve been through graduation with our firstborn once before.
He made it through kindergarten with flying colors.
As if any of us needed to wear a cap and gown and “graduate” from kindergarten. Sure, we bought right into the new ritual. Ahh, the peer pressure.
He sailed through elementary school even when we homeschooled (gasp) during his 4th grade year.
He was a cute 1st grader.
Middle school (known as junior high back in my day) was relatively painless as well.
He was a cute 7th grader too. Yes, I know I’m biased.
He will remind me that homeschooling again (double gasp) in 8th grade created struggles for him in high school. Math specifically.
Sorry, Bud, I did the best I could.
We made the best educational decisions we could throughout the years. We have experienced private Christian school, homeschooling and public school.
We know there is no such thing as the perfect school much like we know there are no perfect children or perfect parents.
Eighteen years and thirteen years of school have not really flown by. Some people claim that the years fly by. Sometimes I have even claimed that.
The Grunter has survived being our firstborn and our “test boy.” He has actually passed again with flying colors.
Don’t get me wrong - the journey has not always been smooth sailing. The Cocoa Krispie Nightmare was just one of our many struggles I can write about while still maintaining some decorum (and while he still lives at home with us).
He is not walking in his high school graduation ceremony. After he told me three times he didn’t want to go to the ceremony, I listened. It seems to have created more stress for friends and family than it has for him or us.
This is the first of many decisions he is making on his own.
This is the part where my job description as mom starts to change.
This is the part where I worry and praise and love and pray.
This is the part where you start to let go.
This picture is one of my all-time favorites in his photo album when he was just a wee little naked baby learning to walk.
The quote I wrote on the page of his album so many years ago and is very poignant for me right now…
“A boy has two jobs. One is just being a boy.
The other is growing up to be a man.”
–Herbert Hoover
His job of being a boy is almost over.
His job of becoming a man is just beginning.
Life Lesson (LL): Growing and nurturing a baby boy into a man is a hard, scary job.
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Share how your “babies” are turning out. Moms supporting moms makes the job a little less overwhelming!
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Categories: Life Lessons, Milestones, Teens
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Wednesday, May 7, 2008, by Sherra
I got home late Sunday night from five fun-filled days visiting relatives in Indiana.
As I shared last week, I went back home to Indiana to visit Imogene.
One week ago on Wednesday I surprised Imogene and spent the afternoon with her. She has fallen twice since I was there last year so she spends most of her time in a wheelchair. She has made a remarkable recovery especially at age 92.
She doesn’t go out very much, if at all. Since I was there by myself and was not on a schedule, I made myself available if she wanted to go anywhere. After a little encouragement because I’m sure you know how much her generation “doesn’t want to be a burden” she finally said “I sure would like to have some good food at Gray’s.”
Gray Brothers Cafeteria is a local landmark in Mooresville, Indiana.
Photo of Gray’s sign came from this fun food blog.
Cafeterias are not my favorite kind of restaurants. I actually refuse to eat at them here in Georgia. (Another one of my issues…for another day.)
But Gray Brothers is different. I love it.
PhilBillPaul loves cafeterias so I had to take a picture of our food so I could show him I had his favorite chicken and noodles (and corn and potatoes and a roll and butterscotch pie if you’re taking inventory.)
I found a far better picture of their food at RoadFood.com which is a fun site that features reviews the kind of down-home restaurants we love.
“A tray of lunch, Gray Brothers-style. Clockwise from the bottom left: candied beets, dinner roll, banana cream pie, orange chiffon Jell-O, lemonade, chicken with cornbread dressing.”
- Michael Stern
Imogene had those candied beets (yuck) and jello salad and fried potatoes and strawberry pie with her chicken and noodles. My photography skills really didn’t do justice to our meal.
Yes, it does appear that we might have thought this was our last meal. I’m happy to report it wasn’t. We actually took some beets, jello salad and pie back to her room.
Everything was absolutely delicious and words cannot describe what it meant to me to get to spend the afternoon with her and take her out to dinner.
The waitress took our picture and I’ve already ordered two 5 x7 prints that I’m framing–one for me and one for her!
Life Lesson (LL): In spite of gas prices and a nine hour drive, the trip was worth every moment I got to spend with Imogene and other relatives!
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Any trip you’ve taken or are planning to take to visit someone special in your life?
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Categories: Food, Life Lessons, Milestones, Moments, Raves
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Wednesday, April 30, 2008, by Sherra
I hope that when you are reading this I am visiting or about to visit Imogene in Indiana.
She’s the only Grandma I’ve ever known as my mom’s mother passed away when I was just six months old.
I’ve been lucky enough to be the keeper of some very special family photos.
Side note: Volunteer to make an album and relatives might give you some precious pictures.
My mom grew up on this farm and I grew up as a city kid who was lucky enough to visit the farm.
Imogene sent me a thick envelope of pictures in 1995 and I love what she wrote and I included it on the album page. Grab a magnifying glass, it’s worth reading!
My cousin Dayna captured the essence of us city kids visiting the farm by writing this story for the family reunion album I created almost 15 years ago.
For a little girl who lived in the city, the farm might as well have been Disney World. There were so many things to explore and never enough time. From the gravel road you turned into the driveway which had a bridge over the pond. Never mind that there was probably only inches of water beneath it, I always held my breath as we went over it because there were no sides to this bridge and you just never knew how good a driver your Dad was! Up the hill stood the farmhouse and many, many other buildings just waiting to be explored. There were skinny sidewalks that surrounded the house and sometimes led to nowhere. There were so many doors and porches on that house it was amazing. Of course, one sidewalk led down to the outhouse which was, to a city kid, unbelievable. The darkness, smell and bugs in the corner were just enough to make you wish you were back home! Then there was that huge big tank in the yard which you never fully understood what it was used for. It was best for telling your little brother or sister that if they hit it too hard, it just might explode the whole farm! What a great place this farm was for me. I can remember every little detail about it as if I were just there yesterday. It’s all in my heart and memory forever.
My Grandad passed away the year I married PhilBillPaul. We continued to have family reunions on Labor Day weekend at my Uncle Jack’s farm for more than 25 years.
Now it was my turn to bring my city kids to the farm. City kids getting to see pigs is a big deal.
But the bigger deal has always been spending time with extended family. The stories. The pictures. The memories.
Here is one of my favorite quotes I included on the album page that was my Grandad’s last Labor Day reunion…
Enjoy the little things for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.
–Robert Brault
All those reunions were the big things. I always knew that. I still know that.
My mom is the second youngest of seven children who are all still alive.
(I won’t mention names but ages range from 81 to 59…can you hear my slow whistle? It’s impressive, we know!)
13 years and one month flew by and we didn’t miss the irony when she was the first to lose her spouse, my dad, at the age of 60.
Meanwhile, the years continue to pass by and time doesn’t stand still.
I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. I hope this will be a soft whisper and a gentle reminder.
Last year as I made my way back home from The Black Hole, I stopped in to spend the afternoon with Imogene. We went shopping and out to eat and before I left I snapped this picture of her standing by my car with my camera phone. At age 91, my bright blue VW Bug matches her personality.
Imogene is funny and spunky and I have always loved spending time with her. To get to spend one-on-one time with her is a sheer delight for me.
Of course, the time I get to spend with her is rare since we moved from Indiana when I was in the 3rd grade and I’ve never lived there again.
Kids and life have a way of getting in the way of visiting.
I’m making the time to visit this week. It is a privilege that I don’t take lightly.
Notice I said I’m making time. It’s not in the budget. It’s not on the schedule. The teenagers will probably think of new reasons for me to take Valium while I’m away. Maybe I should leave some Valium for PhilBillPaul…
But I’m going because I can’t stop time and on my list of priorities, this one is right at the top of my list.
Hopefully I’ll get to see Uncle Jack, Uncle Jerry, Aunt Jane, Sally, Dayna and anyone else interested in seeing me while I’m there. As you can imagine, there are a whole lot of relatives in Indiana. But I’m starting with the oldest and most favorite first.
Dysfunction still abounds but…
There’s a magical tie to the land of our home, which the heart cannot break, though the footsteps may roam.
–Eliza Cook
And I’m bringing my good camera this time.
Life Lesson (LL): Life is short. Make time, take pictures and don’t forget to write down the stories.
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Share a favorite story about your grandparents…your memory might help someone create a family memory for their family!
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Categories: Life Lessons, Milestones, Moments
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Monday, April 28, 2008, by Sherra
No real surprise for those who know me.
For those who don’t, it’s probably not a real surprise either.
I have written about the fact that I have issues.
I have learned to live with most of them. Some require Valium. Some will require more therapy.
I think writing about my issues will be cheaper than therapy.
I truly believe we all have issues. Some of you may not want to admit it. Some of you are just better at hiding them then I am. My kids would like it if I could keep most of my issues to myself.
Before I tackle a specific issue, I’d like to reveal a little about my fashion sense. It is actually related to this post.
(Which could be a separate issue I’m not going to write about today.)
I just wanted to share this t-shirt that screamed “BUY ME, WEAR ME” last year. I had to shut it up so I bought it.
In fact, I bought this shirt last year because it really did speak to me.
The issue of the day is…
SCISSORS.
I have lost count but a pretty accurate estimate of the number of pairs of scissors that I have purchased since becoming a mother is approximately 972. Since The Grunter is 18, that is an average of 54 scissors per year. Yeah, that seems about right.
I have bought them their own. I have color-coded them and announced their purpose. Kitchen. Scrapbooking. School projects. Sewing. Etc.
Call me crazy but I don’t want to open a hermetically sealed package of bacon with a pair of scissors that have glue and other unidentifiable objects stuck to the blades.
Nor do I want to trim a picture with scissors that have bacon fat on them.
I have hidden them. I have bought them in cases of six. I have them in drawers on all three floors of our house.
When I need a sharp, clean pair, do you think I can open a drawer and they are there?
I have found “MY GOOD SCISSORS” on the front porch, the sidewalk, the backyard, the garage, the stairs, their bedrooms, the bathrooms and various other places.
When I was scanning pictures for Scary Baby’s birthday post, I saw a few pictures that gave me some insight into my scissor issue.
The inappropriate use of scissors started at an early age…
Obviously, I was a rookie scrapbooker and must have had a brand new, shiny pair of scissors that I went a little crazy with. I swear my family albums look a lot better now. It takes a little while to develop your own personal style.
Try to ignore the hack job I did on the pictures and instead, focus on the hack job Roger Leroy did on her twin sister’s hair AND her own. I especially love Wizzy’s expression.
Here’s the excerpt from the photo album of 1995:
Roger Leroy’s Hair Salon Now Open Out of Business
Roger Leroy opened up her shop in our basement on January 24. Her “Grand Opening” was followed immediately with her last and only day of business. Mom shut down the shop. It seems that Wizzy was her first customer after she did a trim job on her own bangs. When Wizzy appeared to show her new haircut, it was quite obvious that Rachel had no formal training and was operating without a license which is illegal in Georgia! Mom screamed and cried and cleaned up the hair–the girls collapsed after a busy day.
History repeated itself in 2003.
Excerpt from that album:
Another Humphreys girl discovers that her chosen vocation should NOT be hairdresser! Scary Baby found a pair of scissors and snuck off to her room to trim her bangs. No twin sister to blame this time. Mom didn’t cry this time and Dad called our family hairdresser to do what she could to “disguise” this very uneven trim job. As we already know, it takes a long time to grow your bangs back!
For some odd reason, we bagged up and photographed the hair. I think PhilBillPaul has it saved somewhere with all their baby teeth.
(Those would be his issues, not mine.)
I think you can see why scissors are a touchy subject at my house.
Life Lesson (LL): It is unhealthy for me to covet scissors like I do.
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Am I all alone? I’d be honored if you share an issue or two so I could at least tell my kids that other moms have issues too…
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Categories: Finding the Funny, Life Lessons, Random Thoughts, Rants
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Friday, April 4, 2008, by Sherra
I am well aware that this site is read primarily by women. I’m fine with that.
In fact, reader comments are 98% women strong.
Yesterday that became 97%.
Rarely, if ever, will a comment become an actual post. That would be redundant.
But I also assume that many of you may never go back to an old post and read the comments.
Am I right? (I know I shouldn’t assume…)
In this instance, I felt deeply compelled to be sure you all didn’t miss this award-winning comment.
Okay, maybe not award-winning, because that infers there was a competition or a contest and there wasn’t.
If there was a contest, this is the blog badge I would bestow on the winner.
The winner could put their award badge on their blog to celebrate and brag about their achievement.
If there was a contest, the winning comment would be found…where else but here…
Wiener Dog Monday!
Instead of a contest and because he doesn’t have a blog…
I’d like to introduce you to Command Sergeant Major Daniel Bowman.
He also happens to be the husband of my wiener dog-loving friend, Ann.
He wrote this comment and to say I was surprised would be a huge understatement.
I have thought long and hard how to contribute to this insightful place on the web without emasculating myself. All of the pseudo pink/purple hues that border the home page have made me swear not to tell the fellow members of my man world a thing about it. Sorry Sherra.
But having close ties with a contributor and a real feeling that life lessons need to be shared, I’m jumping in. It’s funny how we (or maybe it’s just me) learn things. Take friendship. Oh, not the friendship you find in a pick-up basketball game or a friendship you make at work, a real deep friendship that is closer and more real than I can fathom. I have friends and since my return from my tour of duty in Iraq I have some VERY close friends, but not the type of friendship that I have observed between my wife and the author of this web site.
Sherra, I’m jealous. Maybe jealous is too weak of a word, but I can’t think of another. I’ve never heard two people laugh so hard or talk so long on the phone about who knows what. How can two college sorority sisters who met over 26 years ago be so emotionally close to each other? Heck their relationship is closer than the one my wiener dog and I have with my wife and the three of us sleep in the same bed!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I’m a man of few words and anytime that massive verbal trail of every detail of my wife’s day and menstrual cycle can be directed to someone else’s ear, it’s a “praise the baby Jesus moment” for me.
I do wish I had that. Not the menstrual cycle, but the ability to share every detail of my life with someone (who’s not my spouse), who doesn’t judge or get paid for acting like they care. A true unselfish friend. When I look back to when I was away from my family for 15+ months I remember how my concerns were turned upon myself and my Soldiers.
I left my wife to fend for herself four thousand miles away, paying bills, raising our children, calling a plumber, and scratching the dog’s back. I only had 15 minutes on a phone every 2-3 days, that is if it didn’t go dead in the middle of a conversation and very limited email access. No time to discuss those details of the day, only enough time to verify that I was still alive and kicking.
Thank God for Sherra. She filled in for me and I owe her my thanks.
There’s a saying within the Military; “America isn’t at war, the Army’s at war, America’s at the Mall.”
My version is a bit different “America isn’t at war, the Army and its Soldier’s families and FRIENDS are at war…”
Thanks Sherra.
I can assure you Dan (and any other men who are lurking here) that you did not emasculate yourself. Women love words and Ann & I both loved yours. You are speaking our love language, dear!
It was my pleasure to be there for Ann while you were in Iraq serving our country with pride and honor. Thank YOU, Dan.
xoxoxo
P.S. Now don’t be a weenie…go tell all your manly friends that you were featured on a girly blog
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Categories: Finding the Funny, Friends, Life Lessons, Love Languages, Raves
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Friday, March 28, 2008, by Sherra
As promised, I will now share how we were greeted upon arriving at our beach villa last week.
Since we are both moms with teenagers and we each have a son, we are always watching how the high school and college students behave in public.
We do find it fascinating to see how they act once they are “free” of the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. We can’t help but wonder if our kids will be these kids we’re watching in a few years.
Just a refresher first about my girlfriend retreat last week.
Ann flew in to Atlanta from Illinois and we drove to Destin, Florida which is my very favorite beach. As much as time flies in the car as we talk non-stop, we were both tired and it was past midnight when we arrived at our beach villa.
We pulled up and turned the car off. Our unit was dark but the unit next door had the outside light on and two young men were standing at the door talking to young girls inside.
As we gathered our purses and looked for the envelope with the keys, we looked up to see one of the young men “drop his drawers” and was standing in his boxers. We both laughed and found the villa keys. Oh, the wild abandonment of youth.
We were about to get out of the car when the young man dropped his boxers and proceeded to moon the girls inside their villa.
What College Boy #1 didn’t realize was that he was facing our car under the bright porch light which means we were getting a full view of his frontside.
The girls shut their door at this point which we thought was a good decision on the girls’ part. College Boys sauntered into the parking lot near our car. As we got out to get our luggage, they very politely approached our car and College Boy #1 said “Ladies, as a fellow VW bug owner, can we help you with your luggage?”
Ann replied in a terse voice, “No thanks, we’ve got it.” She proceeded to hoist her giant suitcase out of the trunk and started wheeling it towards our villa.
Dang, I was tired and the car was loaded and I definitely wanted some help. Ann is usually more sociable than that.
I countered with, “YES, we’d love help with our luggage but only if you can keep your pants on.”
College Boy #1 a.k.a. The Flasher feigned embarrassment and said “Oh my gosh, did you guys see that? Oh man, are you serious?”
He might have had a few drinks - just my observation as a non-drinker.
I really wish I could have a little sound bite here that you could click to hear Ann’s voice when she whipped around and said,
“HELLO, we saw your WIE#%R.”
It really went downhill from there. College Boys didn’t realize they were in the presence of two moms who could more than hold their own with the back and forth that transpired. It’s hard to shock a mom of four and a middle-school teacher.
In their mom’s defense–and I don’t even know their moms–they apologized profusely, carried in all our bags, cooler, cookies that PhilBillPaul baked for us (Yes, you read that right - I’m telling you he’s nice like that) and apologized some more.
We think they would have sat down and visited with us but we gave them some cookies and sent them on their way. But not before Ann grabbed her camera and took pictures.
Unfortunately, I didn’t think quick enough to ask them to sign a photo release. Maybe because I really didn’t think about posting this story at the time. Even though I’m not comfortable posting their pictures, I will tell you their first names; Jake (flasher) and Chad (sidekick).
I didn’t let them leave without asking a couple of important questions as a service to all the moms out there. This is valuable information whether you have a son and you want to know if he’s doing this and of course, if you have a daughter, you can warn her about the likes of Jake and Chad.
Q: Did you know those girls?
A: Nah, we just met them on the beach today.
Q: Is this a new strategy in the dating game?
A: Huh?
Q: I mean you just met them earlier today and you just show them your WIE#%R and you get a date?
A: Not really but I was just showing them my great butt - you all weren’t suppose to see my WIE#%R.
Q: So do you think you’re going to score with them tomorrow?
A: Chad (who did not show his private parts) said “No, I don’t have any game so I never score.”
Final comment I couldn’t resist,
“Gosh Ann, back in our college days, we had to at least dance a few songs first, didn’t we?”
JUST KIDDING, MR. & MRS. JONES (Ann’s parents - in case they’re reading this)!!
Here are pictures of the beautiful beach and the boys from afar with their group of 10 buddies who all came to Destin from LSU.
Chad came over and talked to us the next day. It was no surprise that Jake was busy with a fascinating drinking game on the beach involving drinking alcohol from a plastic baseball bat and spinning around till they fell down.
Our observation was that Jake was really the one with no game and back in the day, we both would have danced with Chad. 
On a final note, Ann and I both have WIE#%R dogs and for some reason, this made us laugh the whole time we were at the beach. Because frankly (oops, no pun intended) it takes very little to amuse us and we still think WIE#%R is a funny word. We refuse to grow up to be old, grouchy women. We prefer to be old, funny women who never stop laughing.
If you could have heard Ann squeal at Jake that she saw his, you would have laughed like I did. It was a classic one-liner that we’ll probably still be repeating it when we’re both 82 and sitting at the beach on our annual girlfriend retreat.
You’re laughing now, aren’t you? Oh come on, laugh - it’s good for you.
Life Lesson (LL): Mamas, you gotta let ‘em go and hope they keep their pants on in public. But when you let them go, remind them that even when you’re not there, somebody else’s mom is watching!
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Any good stories you can share about observing our next generation of leaders in social settings?
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Categories: Finding the Funny, Friends, Life Lessons
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Wednesday, March 5, 2008, by Sherra
I’d like to call this the “final” post of my series on The Black Hole.
But I also know that would be a big mistake.
It is ten months after the ordeal that was my spring, summer and part of fall of last year.
I have since found a new holistic gynecologist. He dropped obstetrics some years ago and his focus is on women and hormone balance.
You can check out his website. He has a lot of excellent information on the site. I found the “Resources” page very helpful and printed out a lot of reading material even before my first appointment. It has been a fresh starting point for me and you may find some information that could help you or someone you love.
Having a doctor who is proactive and orders blood work and actually schedules an appointment to go over the results is a welcome change. Sending a postcard or telling you “someone will call” if there is anything to discuss just doesn’t meet my needs.
A annual exam, a pat on the back and a bill to pay is no longer enough for me. Maybe it shouldn’t be enough for any of us.
I can tell you that having a doctor who sits down with you and goes over lab work with you personally and actually listens to you is a giant step in the right direction.
Yesterday was my third appointment with him since September. I will see him again in four months. It is an amazingly good feeling when you know you are headed in the right direction and you have a doctor on your side.
It’s like we’re managing my care together. Frankly, that is what is suppose to happen when you go to the doctor!
Some people might even refer to this as excellent customer service. What a rare thing to find in the medical industry these days.
I don’t have a solution or a cure. I know I’m still prone to depression especially if a boulder gets in my way. I’m not offering medical advice to anyone. You will have to do your own research and find treatment that works for you.
Key words: Don’t miss them - for you.
I’m just one woman who wants to tell the truth and stay real.
I’m feeling so much better. About once a month or so, The Black Hole calls my name and sometimes I still crawl into bed for the day. But it is nothing like last year.
I’m getting back “the me I used to know” which is not necessarily “the me before the head injury” but rather; it is “the me who is in a much better place.”
Depression is an insidious, real disease. It can creep into your life and try to slowly strangle you.
Maybe your family misses the signs.
Maybe your mother and father grew up in the generation where they weren’t allowed to “be depressed” and they were expected to “get over it” and you were taught the same thing.
Maybe you don’t have a Luci or Ann or a friend who will rescue you.
Maybe you think it’s a sign of weakness and you keep telling yourself you just have to “snap out of it.”
I’m here to tell you it is real. And sometimes you can’t just “snap out of it.”
I really want women to not feel so alone. I want them to know we are so much more alike than we are different. I want us to stop hiding from the truth about life and coping so we can help each other when one of us slips into The Black Hole.
Let’s help each other move boulders.
Let’s throw each other a rope.
Let’s save each other.
The End…for now.
P.S. My heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read through each post on this *depressing* subject and for all the comments and personal emails. It really means a lot to me. Stay tuned for a new series next week I’m calling “Little Lessons.” This series should be a lot more FUN than The Black Hole.
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Categories: Friends, Life Lessons, Milestones
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Wednesday, February 27, 2008, by Sherra
I drove 14 hours and 1,000 miles and stopped once for gas and to go to the bathroom and once for a sandwich and to go to the bathroom.
This, I do not recommend. It was not my finest moment.
PhilBillPaul was frantic with worry. He had lived with my head injury emotional outbursts for almost all our years of marriage but I had never left. (Well, except that one time I caught the bumper of the car on the side of the garage and drove to the Kroger parking lot and sat for an hour.)
He called one friend to the north and one friend to the south. Apparently I have no friends to the east or west of me. Neither had heard from me because I was “enjoying” my quiet ride with my iPod playing and my cell phone turned off.
At about the six-hour mark, I decided to turn the phone on. I guess I decided I should check my voicemail. Soothing messages from Ann, friend in the north and Luci, friend in the south made me cry. They were worried and just wanted to help me.
I gathered what little composure I could find and called Ann first since she knew about my breakdown the night before.
Next, I called Luci because even in my mental state I was still worried about good manners. Luci owns an Alzheimer’s facility that she purchased so that her mother would have a place to live. This speaks volumes about her character and she is a caregiver extraordinaire. She asked exactly where I was and at that point I was approaching Louisville, Kentucky. Had I driven south I would have been almost to Tampa, where she lives.
She got on the internet and said she had a flight she would ticket immediately and I could go to the airport, leave my car there, fly to Tampa and she would get me any medical and professional help I needed and take care of me. It was all overwhelming me - this making decisions while I drove to nowhere. I hung up and wept.
It was beyond kind but I couldn’t get past my guilt about imposing on her life just because I couldn’t manage mine. I also knew, as Ann reminded me, that I would feel trapped if I didn’t have my car. (They were both nice enough to not point out that driving was probably not what I should be doing.)
So I declined Luci’s offer but I promised I would call her when I knew where I was going.
A few hours later, my friend Ann made the decision for me. She met me at midnight, three hours from her house, and got us a hotel room and took care of me. She opened her home and took care of me for 10 days while I slept and slept and slept. I did wake up to eat. (I wish I could say I lost my appetite…but no such luck.)
She gave PhilBillPaul updates. I talked to the kids almost every day.
I pulled my personal thing together. (Sort of.) We learned that the withdrawal from the medication I had been taking could be worse than heroine withdrawal for some people. I have no point of reference for that one. The doctors know very little or share very little. The patients, many times, continue to take low doses of this particular medication rather than suffer through the withdrawal.
This would have been helpful information before I started taking the drug. But then again, we didn’t know that I would have such a violent reaction to the medication and the withdrawal process.
All I can tell you is that I have never, ever felt so bad in my entire life.
I don’t name any of the drugs because I know everyone tolerates and responds to medications differently. My experience is just mine. Yours may be totally different. I tend to believe that my head injury plays a part in my inability to tolerate anti-depressants and they just don’t work for me.
What really saved me? Friends. Girlfriends, to be more specific. Lifelong friends who kept calling, emailing and checking on me. Friends who didn’t let me disappear into that Black Hole. They threw me a rope. Sometimes I threw it back and screamed I didn’t need it. They would just throw it to me again.
For the friends who read this and feel bad that they did not know…please release the guilt. I know that if I had picked up the phone, reached out for a moment to let you know, you would have helped me.
No code names for these friends who saved me. From my heart with all the love I can give, thank you…Ann, Luci, Toni, Kim, Colleen, Nancy…you are my heroes and you all really did save me.
To be continued…
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Categories: Friends, Life Lessons
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Monday, February 25, 2008, by Sherra
It was a bad day on Friday for Indiana University basketball fans. Fortunately, for most of my readers, the resignation of head coach Kelvin Sampson didn’t really shake up your day too much.
On the other hand, PhilBillPaul and his mom had to talk at least three times Friday afternoon as they compared notes on what they were reading and hearing. When you are born and raised in Indiana and even after you move to Georgia (and Texas where his mom is), being an IU basketball fan is serious stuff!
We are big basketball fans at our house. Our kids started playing basketball when they were seven which, incidentally, is the age we decided to let them try a sport.
Side note: Unless you count when The Grunter was five and he participated in a one week soccer camp. He had absolutely no idea what to do, where to go or why we made him attend. It was because he was our firstborn experimental child and I had read an article about soccer being the best sport to start your child in–which may be true for many but wasn’t for him.
They all played baseball and softball for several years. Roger Leroy even tried diving her freshman year. The girls run cross country at their high school. Scary Baby just finished her second season of basketball at church. They all know how to play golf, bowl and we’ve had some fierce badminton tournaments in the backyard.
Okay, so you get the idea. They’ve been exposed to a variety of sports and we really are a basketball family.
Basketball has become the primary sport that they all love. I’m sure it has something to do with their dad loving it and coaching them. I was personally delighted because it is an indoor sport which means I don’t have to sit in the rain, sleet, freezing cold or blazing sun.
We are also an oddity among parents in our community. Our kids have always been allowed to pick only one extracurricular activity at a time in addition to their full-time job, which is being a student (for those of you who think we’re endorsing slave labor).
In terms of sheer time management, it was the only way we saw to manage our family, our relationship and our life. One of PhilBillPaul’s favorite lines is “We run the kids, they don’t run us.”
Back to this not being about basketball…
We’ve had some lively discussions over the weekend about the shake-up in Indiana and part of the team not showing up for practice and how and why all these things happened.
Bottom line for us: A coach is a teacher and mentor to the team and the players he works with. He has to be held to a higher standard because of his interaction with our kids. Just like a pastor or politician or any other leader.
When I say “our kids” I mean all of our kids - not just mine. I mean it in the sense of “it takes a village” and we are the village.
If the adults are not setting good examples for our kids then we are left with a society full of kids who think it’s okay to lie, cheat and ignore the rules that we are all suppose to abide by. If the coaches, who are suppose to be helping mold our kids into productive members of society, are breaking rules, then we need to hold their feet to the fire when they screw up.
Yes, everyone makes mistakes. (I don’t have enough time left in my life to write about all the mistakes I’ve made and will continue to make.)
Yes, I also believe in forgiveness.
But I also believe in common sense and like to use it especially when others seem to have lost theirs.
Kelvin Sampson let our kids down. Individually and collectively as a team. During a winning season, he let them down in a big way.
If you want the details of how he let them down and why he has been branded as a cheater, here’s an ESPN column with some strong opinions written by senior writer Pat Forde.
Or here is a Sports Illustrated story with less slant and more facts.
But back to our kids…
It is time now for all the adults involved with these student athletes to step up and support them as they learn this tough life lesson.
Adults they care about and love will let them down. While no one is perfect, the disappointment that comes when someone lets you down is never easy.
We all need to remind them of their own personal responsibility to surround themselves with role models and mentors and friends who walk the walk with honesty and have the courage to do what is right even when it’s not easy.
If Kelvin Sampson was the reason they chose Indiana University, then they need to find a new reason.
Our bigger message to our kids should be that we are here to help them grow into young men and women with character and integrity. And no one can ever take that away from them without their permission.
That message should be loud and clear in the media but unfortunately it usually isn’t the message we read..
Which really means that we all need to to make sure that message is repeated over and over in our own homes…
Meanwhile, it’s nice to meet another Indiana family here in Georgia.
This picture was taken after the girls earned first place in their basketball league championship and finished with an undefeated season. Woo-hoo!
PhilBillPaul, the girls and John, Lisa and Sharté Foy love to display their team colors whenever possible since we live in the land of rabid lovely Bulldog fans who, coincidentally, wear the very same colors.
Life Lesson (LL): It’s never a wrong time to do the right thing. Thanks Uncle Doug.
Share a Life Lesson (SALL): Have you had an opportunity to teach your kids a lesson about doing the right thing using sports or a coach’s behavior as an example? Because it may not feel like a big deal but it is. When you do this, you are doing it for all of our kids. Do tell so I can publicly thank you!
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Categories: Friends, Life Lessons, Moments, Rants, Teens, Tweens
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