Pain Defined

So the doctor's first supposition of my pain was wrong. He put me on a strict diet to lessen the pain in such a case. Fortunately, the diet also helped to alleviate the actual reason for the pain--in that the portion sizes were small.

The doctor originally thought I was having tearing of the skin on my liver. Not so...(however the tests showed that it was a matter of time before that would happen if I didn't change my diet). I kept telling Mike that I would experience immediate pain from my consumption of acidic foods. It turned out that I have some sort of lesion, cut, or ulcer in the upper, right quadrant of my stomach. That accounted for the pain being related to exact foods. That accounted for the pain when I laid down to sleep....as the contents of my stomach would flow to the level of the lesion and there would be a searing pain that even went around and up my back. That also accounted for me not feeling pain when I was in a vertical position.

Anyway, it is so hard to get any sleep due to the pain; I now see why the pain killers did not touch the pain but, in fact, exacerbated it. I have to eat very early and eat hardly anything for dinner so that the contents of my stomach will be nearly empty to allow me to lay down.

My doctor is not seeing patients now because he is changing locations, but the nurse read me the diagnosis. I am hoping the prescription Krogers keeps emailing me about is something he prescribed to heal the lesion...but, of course, the new Obama guidelines have delayed my being able to get what he prescribed and they are having to go back and forth till he prescribes what the insurance wants.

Earworms

No, I'm not talking about those nightmare-producing earwig things in Star Trek 2, I'm talking about waking up with a song playing over and over in your head.

I've had that before, like when I've been the Primary chorister and been memorizing a song that I've sung over and over. I've had the song so stuck in my head that when I've gone to sing it, I'm on the perfect pitch...and I just pretended that I did have perfect pitch when in reality it was that song playing over and over in my head.

Well, I've gone several years without that happening on a regular basis, but the last year I have woke up every morning with a different hymn playing in my head. Sometimes it is a little known hymn and I go find it in the hymnbook because I sure don't know all the words. I Googled it to see if anyone else has that phenomenon. Yes. A psychologist calls it a brain loop with several songs rotating, repeating through the brain. They call them earworms.

After reading the description, I don't think that is what I really have. I believe that somehow, someone is helping me sleep. I feel that somehow, someone is bringing me peace in the morning. They are always hymns. I don't listen to music before I sleep. I haven't even played them in years. It is something I want to continue.What tender mercies.

Update

So...I'm back from dad's funeral. Although it was unexpected, I know from Mike's blessing to me that it was his time to go. Also, the night before, my mother had opened her genealogy on the computer and found 'deceased' written next to dad's name. Shocked, she refreshed it and it changed to, "living'. He passed out from a blood clot to the lungs. He was a month away from being 93 and had lived with early stages of dementia for the last few years. That, plus his hip replacement rehabilitation and the fact that he had passed out and fallen to hurt his back a week before, plus his prescribed liquid diet due to his esophagus being so narrow no food could go down it, had been physically and emotionally draining on my mother. In some sense, it was a relief to know he not suffering and in a better place. I was happy that each of my children came down to the funeral that could.

My mother wants you all to send her your memories of him. I remember his smile. I remember he loved the outdoors and the Boy Scouts of America. He was always helping someone or some troop with scouts. He loved to hear us play the piano and sing.  He loved to put us on his crossed knee and swing us up and down as he sang out "Ride, ride a runkin," a Danish nursery rhyme. When we left the table we had to say, "Tak for Math" and he would respond, "Vel become di.' He loved to tell stories and would tell/read with great expression. I especially recall the Danish silverware with Hans Christian Anderson stories carved on each end. We would go around the table to tell the stories.

My dad didn't compliment or praise openly, but I remember when I was a choir director as a teenager, that he came to sing in it and made sure everyone in our family came to sing and support me. I remember coming out of an interview with the bishop as a 21-yr. old, relieved that the bishop had been inspired to NOT call me on a mission (as was his intention) and me telling my father that I would not have been a good missionary because I feared meeting people...and being shocked to hear him tell me that I would have been a great missionary because I always give more than 100% to every calling and that would overcome any fear I had. He loved music. I do not recall ever missing a family home evening; they were held like clockwork, even before the manuals were published. I do not recall missing family scripture reading. Every morning, we were up and reading. Every Sunday, we told what we learned about in church and read the scriptures. I do not remember ever missing Family prayer. It was every morning and every night. My dad obeyed the commandments. We actually took piano lessons and were instructed in music conducting as a result of his direct obedience to a church bulletin asking parents to instruct their children in both of those skills. He loved the scriptures and could recite them and quote a reference at the drop of a word. He would tell us his testimony and the miracles in his life as he followed the Holy Ghost.

He loved to learn. When he retired, he would study up on his 'hobbies' so that he became experts in gardening, baking bread, food storage, genealogy, as well as everything scouting. He would go to the library and county extension meetings to learn more and often end up instructing those who came because he knew things the instructor didn't.

He always had to be busy. I know in the latter years you always saw him sitting and snoozing, but when I knew him, he didn't know how to relax; he always had to be doing. He was a District President, a stake president's counselor, a bishop, a branch president twice, and had numerous scouting callings among some of them. He was a leader. He always went home teaching with my brothers. He gave us priesthood blessings. Although he wasn't perfect; (his temper) the things he did that were right overcame the things that were wrong.

Since the funeral, these are things I've pondered:

1. I don't communicate with my family enough. The only things that really matter are our relationships...with God/Christ/HG, our spouse/children/parents/siblings, and others. No matter how righteous we are, if we don't have a celestial relationship with someone, we won't want to be with them eternally.

2. What have we done with what we were given?
           the gospel --Did we share it? Did we live what we profess?,
           our talents--Did we magnify them? Did we use them to serve other people and glorify God?,
           our weaknesses--What did we do to overcome our carnal nature or 'thorns in the flesh'? Have we repented?

3. Why do we hang on to things of no value?

New Topic:
One of the things I absolutely love about our new home are the windows--the light that they let in. In our master bathroom there is a huge window. I love it. I am never worried that someone will see me bathe or shower because they would have to be in our fenced side yard to see anything, plus the window is translucent, textured glass to block a clear image. Nevertheless, color and shapes are clear enough.

Well, yesterday, I was showering late, got out of the shower, and looked in the mirror to reflect a blue pole with a white swab on the end, cleaning around and across the window. Yikes! I grabbed a towel and lit out of the bathroom as fast as I could. Who would be cleaning my bathroom window? Was it a 'Peeping Tom'? As I rapidly clothed, I heard each window of my house being cleaned. Who was cleaning the outside of my windows? Was there even a service to do so? Would Mike pay someone to clean our windows without telling me? I don't think so.

I peeked out the front door and saw a pest control van. I wrote the name down in case they were not a valid company. Later, I went outside and discovered an itemized bill on our door handle for their work.Yep. You guessed it. Quarterly, without fore-notice, they clean all the windows, around all the openings of our home, and in the pre-created openings of the home. (part of the subdivision requirements???) Guess I'll be watching the calendar a bit more...or taking better note of the time of day.

From my Sunday notes...

Dallin Oaks, We have faith in the future, and we are preparing for that future. To borrow a metaphor from the familiar world of athletic competitions, we do not know when this game will end, and we do not know the final score, but we do know that when the game finally ends, our team wins.
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"Sacrifice means giving up something we love for the God that we love more."
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Blessing jar--filled with answers to prayers or special tender mercies...read them at the end of the year.

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"And Thus we See" in the Book of Mormon (in other words: "and now, here is the lesson that is important for you to learn.)

How Not to Follow a Prompting....

Sometimes I get so used to following promptings of the Spirit that I take them for granted. It almost becomes so routine that I can easily wonder if it is just my natural worrying or another prompting. Sad to say, here I am, almost 60, and still having to learn a lesson the hard way.

It was at our school music concert for the parents. My MIDI students were playing a duet and another ensemble. We were to be the climax of the program. I was very familiar with their tendency to forget their music, so I had several copies made (which I used on a regular basis during lessons). But this was a concert; I had emailed parents to remember, and the morning of the concert we had a dress rehearsal concert for the students at school with one person forgetting her music... and was reminded.

Anyway, here we were, the concert was about to start and I had this odd feeling that I needed to run to my room and get my extra music. I saw that two of my students did not have music. "Where's your music?" I asked.

"We have it memorized, " they answered in chorus. No worry about them. If they said they had it memorized, they did.

I did not want to run to my room because there was no one in the room that appeared to be in charge except me. You see, all three music teachers were in their rooms rehearsing with the students. There had been a man with a seizure or heart attack or something and I had been the lone person to clear the way for the ambulance and check to see if there were adequate medical volunteers who had it under control. After the fact, I found out that no administrator would be present and the counselor, who was roaming the halls was the person in charge. She had no clue what was going on because she wasn't in the cafeteria. But I had been the one who was known by the parents, so I was the one doing all the upfront work while she called Klein police to report. By the time the ambulance left, I had been the one to notify the teachers that we were ready and lead the students on stage... I still had this panicked feeling that I needed to run and get my music, but...I reasoned, it is so late, I can't go now; I won't get back before they start.

The concert started and I still had this urgent feeling to get the music. It was so urgent, that I was pretty sure it was a prompting and not just worrying. I was up front, and could have slipped out to get it, but it would have been very noticeable...so I surveyed my students and used my form of whisper and sign language to check to see if they all had their music. They all had their music, so I guessed my feeling was just my super worrying.

When my part of the program started, all the students got seated behind their consoles and opened up their music, when one student came to me and said,  "This is not my music. I brought my music, but this is not my music. I don't know where it is." I asked a student to run to my room with one of the music teachers while I stalled on the microphone. They got back after I had described MIDI, who the students were, a little bit about the pieces, and that we were waiting for the music. When the music came, it was one page of the right music and the rest were wrong, so I had to move students on different consoles and have him share a console with another student having music in order to finish the concert.

The duets were OK, but not as clear cut as it would have been had he played his part in the octave he was supposed to. Everything else went well, but it was not the climax to the program I had wanted. A bit was taken away as we paused for the 'technical' issues. Worst of all, I knew in my heart that I had not followed the prompting that had come so many times from the Holy Ghost. I came home, knelt, and prayed for forgiveness. Those promptings are my lifeline. I had taken them for granted. I felt so bad that I had closed the door on a Divine gift, thinking I knew better.

After the fact, we found that his binder was the same as a music teacher's binder. She had got up to perform, picking up his binder and leaving hers. She was holding it the whole time. Too little, too late.

I heard another sister share her similar experience today. She had been in a long line at an outdoor barbecue place. The line was moving slowly. There was some outdoor furniture near the line and a huge opened, heavy, metal umbrella. She had felt a prompting to move the umbrella several times, but she had reasoned that she would lose her place in line or that there was no observable reason to move it, so she did nothing. In tears, she recalled a young boy beneath it as the wind pulled it up, closing it, as it collapsed, falling directly down on the boy. She, too, felt that she had betrayed the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Do not take that gift for granted. Do what you feel you must do, no matter what else you can reason away. You might not know if it was you or the Holy Ghost, but do it anyway. The more you follow those promptings, the more promptings you will get and the more you will know and recognize they are from the Holy Ghost.

Another answer to a prayer

I've been trying to teach decimals for the last few days without any aids or curriculum...all the while, knowing I had a box somewhere in the garage with decimal games, aids, and flash cards. I had been searching the boxes in the garage for 3 days with no avail. Finally, I decided it was worth a prayer...and I did. I went to the garage to search some places I hadn't been before, but passed a box I had been through and had a feeling I should go through that box. I knew there was nothing in the box, so I went ahead and emptied out a few other boxes, not finding anything. When walking by the same box again, the thought to search it came again. Well, I'm not that dumb. I decided that if I had been urged to look into the box twice, I should--even though I knew it was not in there. So I reluctantly pulled the box off the stack so I could go through it and lo and behold, the box underneath had the decimal games and flashcards. I still have two more things to find, but I am so grateful for the answer to my prayer.

The Gift of Time

I am grateful for Saturday mornings and a husband that lets me have them.

For as long as I can remember—at least as a child, Saturday meant sleeping in. The weekdays were busy. Late nights, early mornings. No naps. No rest. And for me, no idle time. Recreation, vacations, down time never existed.  So Saturday was my cherished treasure.

It was taken away with the responsibilities of married life and children. In fact, my body craved sleep so much during that time, that even when I was awake I often tried to lie down, but with children, that never lasted long. My children never napped long (as in their age) and I had so many that even when some were napping I was working to catch up on other matters or caring for another child. If someone was up for any reason in the night, so was I.  I was so sleep-deprived I often bordered on psychotic behavior, but I knew no respite. We couldn't afford someone to relieve me and daycare was never an option. Even when the children were older, we couldn't afford another car so I was up with seminary and late into the night picking children up or helping them with homework. When work outside the home entered the picture, my sleep was still deprived, but my husband took over much of the early morning seminary routes so I didn't have to get up earlier to get ready for work.

And now, when I enter the ’empty nest’ season in life, my body wakes at the normal time, but I am content to quickly fall back to sleep. When I reawaken, (my husband long gone) I lie for hours, just thinking. Memories trickle in and out of a near-wakened state as I reflect about days past, the day ahead, my problems, and things that make me happy. When I have pondered long, I often drift off to that sacred slumber again. It is pure heaven to not have to be anywhere at a certain time and have the luxury of uninterrupted time to do nothing...but think.  I treasure my Saturday mornings and am thankful that I have them again.

Even though this is a gratitude post, it occurs to me that husbands reading this need to help their wives to get the sleep and alone time they need to regain the person they are. I am grateful for the husbands of my daughters and daughter-in-law that already do this.