Suzanna is a Missionary! And it is not all about me, this blog...

All photos from Sister Landbeck's companion's mom's blog!  They look like they get along well, smiley and  huggy.  Her companion is a twin, who is also learning Portuguese, but going to Brazil.

I wonder if Suzu can tell them apart?  Kind of cool that they are serving at the same time!

Things going well here.  I added more to the sobriety trees, some bright oranges that glow in the rainy weather we have been having.  As soon as the redbud blooms I will take more photos.

More shots in the back today that should help back pain, and I am doing the sleep study tonight.  No lotion, no hairspray, bring my pillow, but not John to hospital.  I have a horrible bruise on my hand from IV from last week's colonoscopy.  Busy round of tests and medical updating (nothing can make a mammogram a good experience, but I was thankful for it being shorter than I remembered...).  Emma turning a quarter of a century same year I make it to a half.  I am thankful for good medical attention and expertise. 

One of the nurses this morning asked how many children I have--answered her "six" and told her about Emma being a high school chemistry teacher, Stewart in college, Suzanna going to Portugal on a Church mission, Sam a firefighter & welder, and Roxie and her brilliance.  "That's five."

And about losing Max last summer to addiction consequences.  But bearing testimony simply that I am confident we will see family we have lost.  That was what the holiday last weekend was all about, what Easter means to me. 

As the nurse shuttled me out to the car in a wheelchair (hospital policy, I was walking fine) she told me how much she had enjoyed our time together this morning.  Little Gospel sharing moments.  She knows my religious preference (one of the standard questions). 

I CANNOT TAKE A NAP, trying to stay awake and busy so the sleep study tonight is accurate...or at least as much as I can make it.

SHOULDER Improved

For years he has had right shoulder pain, problems reaching overhead, behind.  Problems putting his arm around my shoulders...  Nor could he fold his arms comfortably.  He has tried cortisone shots, months of PT exercises, oral steroids for the inflammation, and finally the doctor sent him for a MRI and suggested manipulation to un-crack it...Something they couldn't do while he was awake.  He needed to be relaxed and unconscious, not fighting back...

After not eating breakfast, 5 minutes of anesthesia, and an hour recovery he can now fold his arms.  I opted out of watching the surgeon un-freeze his shoulder.  John's elbow was a little sore, and he has a week of PT to do, but pain-free miracle. 

Date for Pains

 You are invited!

Artist David Babcock and his artist wife, Julie, will be staying with us Monday, Memorial Day night.  If you want to come meet him, shake his hand, congratulate him on making WORLD RECORD for longest scarf knit while running a marathon...come on over!  Cookies and s'mores, our backyard anytime afte 5 pm!

Pre-existing complications aside, and after months and months of physical therapy, and trying really, really hard to NOT bend over and pick anything up (I am allowed to squat to get to floor, that is it) I went to the doctor under duress.  John scheduled a double appointment for us, or I would not have gone.  I dislike strongly the feelings of helplessness, mortal bodies falling apart...  He gets to have knock-out-shoulder cracking surgery since he can't lift his right arm and his shot last month didn't help.  And I got a shot today which should help.  Bursitis.  Left hip.  Which explains the pain that I thought was my back.  Making my bulging lowest disc back pain suddenly the most noticeable thing again.  Numbness in my left leg could be bursitis or back-related nerve.  Which may need another shot, this time in spine, or surgery if that doesn't help get inflammation down.  Lovely.  Actually, I am thankful, for bodies and the reality of mortality.  Even though it hurts.

Sweet Max Memories

 

All of these photos were taken at least 3 years ago.

As Daddy Warbucks in "Annie"

Thursday at work a peer from another office delivered a file.  I could tell something was wrong, she was teary-eyed, and when I asked, she said she had just come from the courthouse.  No details, but her son may have to go to prison, and she was heartbroken.  With my hug and sympathetic heart the words that came out of my mouth:  "At least they will feed him there.  You will know where he is, that he is safe, and that they are feeding him.  It is no reflection on you or your husband, he is there because of his choices.  Be hopeful, it can get better."  Her reaction:  "Oh, you are going through the same thing?"

Sort of.  Different detention situation.  But it is a relief when I know Max is somewhere safe, looked after, fed.  Dealing with mental illness in the family is hard enough, but throw in recreational drugs  and it gets worse.

Our Friday night date was visiting Max.  Simple routine of parking in our favorite parking spot, walking in holding hands, up the hospital elevator to the psych ward.  Leave cell phones in car so we don't have to lock anything in lockers before we go in.  Sign in.  Remember his pass code number to prove he wants to visit with us.  Wait to be escorted through two locked doors.  Smile at the big-muscle-bulky guards who recognize us from past visits.  Sit at a sticky table in the commons area and wait for the staff to bring him out.  Try not to look at other patients and their visitors and wonder what their crazy stories are bringing them together. 

We have an hour to share uplifting family events.  I told Max about my latest dry needling physical therapy story (nearly fainted this time, 6 hours since lunch and the 7 needles went in further and were a little more graphic-gross, tenting my skin as they were pulled out), the burden lesson I gave in seminary that morning (passing out to the students a life-burden:  earthquake destroys your home, you have terminal cancer, you are a victim of gossip, someone in your family is an addict, etc and had them group them into one of three categories 1) consequence of living in the world 2) someone else's bad actions 3) your own bad choices) and relate it all to how Nephi reacts to his brothers' bad choices.  

He laughed, and there were moments of real Max, intelligence, memory.  I invited him to come back to us, to remember what good family memories and the traditions and fun things we have done together, to be hopeful about his future and find things again that he enjoys doing that are safe and good.

John told him the reality that his roommates don't want him to come back to the house he has been staying at.  Burned bridges.  Looking for a re-hab situation somewhere affordable for him.  "Delusional" is a trigger word we have to avoid using.  Religious symbols tricky.  Quoting films and video games and his mixed up questions like "How did God create the universe?" and weirdness when he worries about the end of the world and how bad death hurts.

I bore my testimony that families matter, that he matters to us, that we won't give up on him.

Big hugs and "I love you's" and kisses at the end of saying good-bye.   Each time when I leave I reach out my hand and Max holds it as I walk away and he mouths "I love you" and my heart breaks again.  I am leaving him somewhere safe.  Were they will feed him.  And make sure he gets the doctor ordered medicine (Drugs are bad.  Medicine is good.  Words matter.).

There is a misconception that there are real parents with perfect kids.  Somewhere.  Maybe in Utah (thank you, "Raising Arizona" best ending lines of a film, ever!).  We parents all have something we are dealing with, some burden, some reason our hair is turning (quickly) white.  Mortality is brutal.  Experience is dangerous.  Learning is hard.

Interesting that so much of the joy we feel is associated with our bodies.  Good food, good sleep, good sex, good activities-adventures, good art (hearing, seeing).  Physical sensations and pleasures and experiences.  Having children--the creating of them and the watching them grow and learn and become independent--lots of joy there. 

Really & truly.