A Blog Worthy Birthday

I'm not one to draw a lot of attention to my birthday, but today is worth recording here for a variety of reasons. 

It really started last night when we celebrated my birthday with dinner, present, and cake (YUM) because Jeremy had to work today.  Present was awesome!!  Dinner and drinks were yummy despite our waitress' listening difficulties and lack of follow through in the blue cheese department.  The cake was fabulous.  Red velvet with chocolate creme.  Did I already say YUM?  I was able to scarf it down despite Jeremy's claims that he can't "fit like a million candles on here so I just put 4."  Gee, thanks honey. 

Early to bed with a plan of early to rise.  Jeremy was up and out by 5:30 and we were fortunate enough today to not have issues with Saydie, our recently bowel and bladder challenged miniature pincher.....earlier this week Justin came up stairs carrying a piece of poop from the hallway.  Well good morning! 

So, thus far the birthday was going well.  It was only 5:30 am.  I had really, really, really good intentions of getting up and working out.  I figure I'm 34 and I probably ought to start developing a real game plan against flab.  But I didn't.  I went back to sleep.

At 6:15 am Leo came running up the stairs proclaiming in one run-on sentence after another "Thorry, Mom I peed my pants that's otay I need to wake up and tell you I need to go pee-pee thorry mom it's otay."  I always appreciate the efficiency of my 2 year old who can hold both sides of our conversation himself by reporting the accident, comforting himself, reminding himself of how to improve next time, and then comforting himself again. 

Fortunately he wasn't soaked so we headed to the bathroom where he INSISTED that I feel his underwear to prove he had peed in his underwear.  "Check it, mom.  CHECK IT!"  SUPER.  It's 6:15 on my birthday and I would just love to touch your urine soaked undies, Leo.  But of course I oblige his request, confirm the accident, hear a repeat of the "thorry mom, it's otay......" and off we go to the other bathroom to wash up, get clothes and strip the bed.

In my half-sleep half-hurried state I rip the sheets off and the corner of the mattress pad that is already torn gets stuck under the bed.  As I obliviously continue to pull it off the bed, I pretty much just rip it all along the whole seam thus rendering it completely unusable.  Good, I definitely wanted to buy a new mattress pad today. 

Justin wakes up during this process and we take a family trip to the basement to start laundry.  Oh what?  What is this?  I am out of laundry detergent.  That's about right.  Fortunately it's home made so I just have to scoop some out, funnel it into the jug, add some water, shake, and I'm back on track.  I feel obligated to fold the laundry in the dryer so finish up that quick chore and head upstairs.  The boys are requesting (I'll call it that) a movie so I grab "Griffin" which is a Scooby Doo about a large pterodactyl type thing that's named Griffin.  It's Leo's go-to movie.  Oh what now?  It doesn't work.  It won't play.  So I tried Toy Story 3.  Nope, won't work either.  So now our DVD player is broke since last night???  SUPER.

Thank goodness for DVR.  We head to the living room, find a recorded Batman and I head for the shower.  It's now 6:30 am.

Before I hop in the shower I decide to quickly weigh myself to reinforce that, in fact, I really should have gotten up early and exercised.  My scale shows and error message.  Seriously?  It refused to weigh me.  That's gotta be a sign.  I hear ya, Mr. Scale.  Reading your message loud and clear.  I'm pickin' up what you're puttin' down.  I could feel its silent judgement for my lack of willpower.  Screw the scale.  I never liked the damn things anyway. 

I start my shower by grabbing the conditioner instead of the shampoo.  Really? At this point I start to get the giggles and I start making a mental tally of these things for what I now know is going to be a very blog-worthy day.   I figure it best not to push my luck at this point so I skip shaving my legs.  I want to live to see 35. 

Morning progresses.  I get my teeth brushed without incident, but when it comes time for make-up I hit another small snag.  I pull out my $3 clearance eye shadow pallet with about 40 colors and decide on light pink.  For some reason half-way though my mind wanders and I switch to a dark blue.  By the time I come to my senses my eyes are semi-striped in pink and blue and I'm sporting a bad 14 year old's make-up look.  I repeat the eye-makeup application and finished the morning without further incident. 

Work was work.  I was greeted with about 10 mini-balloons on my desk (thank you, Mary).  We had a meeting to review our compliance with federal and state mandates which we passed with flying colors.  Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cari.....not that a lack of confidence has ever really been a problem for me! I desperately wish I could blog about work, but HIPAA and the feds generally frown upon me sharing that info.  Party-poopers, that's what I always say. 

I really, really, really wanted to leave early for some "me time" but alas it was not to be.  On the upside, I won $15 on the random lottery ticket I purchased this morning while getting gas and I got a call from my world traveling (and living!) baby sis which really brightened me up in the mid-afternoon.  My super wonderful staff also got me an ice-cream cake which made the last hour or so of the day bearable!  Thanks girls! 

And by the way, did I mention it's freaking hot out today?  I mean, I don't find it to be unusually hot.  It's hot every single year on my birthday.  It is the end of July after all.  Every day the weatherman has to go on and on about the record breaking heat.  If we are breaking a record every single day shouldn't it be like 256 degrees by now?  What record are we breaking exactly?  That it's 100 degrees on a Thursday on an odd numbered year in the middle of a moon cycle? It's freaking July!  It's hot.  Just call it what it is.  Oh.....I have  digressed unusually far and for that I apologize.  It's been a long day.

I will simply wrap up the birthday story with 3 short events:

1. as we left the house tonight for Bitty Basketball my garage door broke (oops, I forgot to tell you that honey.  It's on your to-do list tomorrow along with buying a matress pad and fixing the DVD player).  I thought it was going to come crashing down on us because it made this huge noise.  So what did I do?  I yelled "Oh shit!"  And what happened?  I think you know.  Justin says "Oh shit."  I'm going to come in last or second to last in this year's Mother of the Year contest!  I'm fairly certain I can beat out the mom I met today at work.  She was special to say the least.
2.  I got a nice surprise by seeing an old friend at the Y tonight during basketball.  Brought a smile to my face....as did the Bitty Basketball events which tonight included two boys (thankfully neither were mine) kissing under the basketball goal during the game.
3.  For the last 30 minute of their night, the boys pretended to be Batdogs.  All communication was via dramatic panting and head nodding with the occasional break in character to ask for treats.  Some things never change.

And with that, I believe I will end my birthday at just a little after 9 pm.  Good night folks. I'm sure 34 will bring many, many blog-worthy events!

Cancer Benefit

Two weeks ago my wonderful husband, Jeremy, told me that we were invited to a Cancer Benefit.  Or at least I THOUGHT that is what he said.  It was $50 a couple.  Ever the perfectly organized wife, I wrote Cancer Benefit on the calendar and arranged a withdrawal of $50 from our monthly budget.  I then asked him where the money is going and he said to the food and alcohol.  Of course what I meant was to which charity was it being donated, but we got sidetracked and never finished the conversation. 

This past Monday on the way to my parents house, I asked him about the cancer benefit again and he said "why do you keep calling it that?  It is a cancer party.....like a party for the people born in June and July with the zodiac sign of cancer!!!!!"  We got a pretty good chuckle out of our miscommunication.  We later regaled my family with our funny little story.  Ha, ha, ha! 

Fast forward to Friday night. We are on our way to the cancer benefit....because I insist on still calling it that!  My sister called me and said she just heard a commercial on Hot 103 JAMZ for the Zodiac Cancer Party at 18th and Main in downtown KC.  First of all, I have no idea why Mandi was listening to Hot 103.  Let's just say it is most likely not her type of music, but really who I am to judge?  So I assumed she was playing a joke on me but she insisted that it was true and there was a possibility that the cancer benefit we were going to was being hosted by Hot 103 JAMZ.  And to make matters worse, the commercial said there is a strict dress code.  Great.  Jeremy was in shorts and a t-shirt.  I, on the other hand, was rocking my skinny jeans (thanks for the vote of confidence, Higgins) and a silk animal print shirt.  That's right, I am a brainiac and decided to wear jeans and silk shirt when it is 100 degrees outside. (wonder why my great-grandma always said Mandi was the smart one??)


So I was feeling pretty good about myself.  Feeling hot (no pun intended) in my cute outfit.  Winkin' at myself in the mirror.  Just kidding, I don't do that...my husband does though.   
 
We arrived at the benefit.  It is not the Hot 103 JAMZ party.  No, no it's not.  Instead it is a party in an art gallery in what appears to be a rundown area of downtown Kansas City.  It probably has a cute little name for that area of town but I live in the suburbs....and I pretty much stay there so I wouldn't know. 

Ohhhh, art gallery you might be saying to yourself.  Fun.  Fancy.  Wrong and Wrong.  It was a warehouse type building with no windows.  The door and the garage door were shut and there was NO......wait for it....freaking air conditioning!  That's right.  It's 100 degrees outside and a whopping 120 inside (said my internal thermometer).  And I am in jeans and a silk shirt.  Jeremy, while in shorts and a t-shirt, has a built in sweater of hair.  He is sweating through his shirt within seconds of entering the building.  I never sweat much at all due to my general lack of hydration related to my heart problems.  But I was moments away from sweat dripping down the crack of my ass.  You are welcome for the mental picture.

Jeremy heads straight for the keg.  I ask for water and am told.....wait for it...they don't have any water.  BUT I was generously offered a plastic cup of ice from the keg cooler (gag) and some water from the bathroom sink (double gag).  

We positioned ourselves in front of one of the 8-10 fans stationed throughout the "gallery" that are blowing the already hot air around the room.  Correction, Jeremy planted himself in front of one and myself and another couple tried to stand near him to see if we could catch any of it from around the sides of him.  Thanks honey.  After about 3 minutes I am ready to leave.  Jeremy on the other hand is ok to stay and chat with his friends.  I get that.  It's cool.  Ok, bad choice of words.  Rather, it's ok. 

No worries.  I'll just look at the boobs.  What,  you say?  That's right.  A large portion of the art on display are drawings of naked women.  Don't get me wrong, they were mostly tasteful and some of the non-boob art was actually really good, but if I wanted to look at boobs all  night I would have stayed home and looked in the mirror.  And winked at myself. 

And then there were the mannequins.  Naked female mannequins strewn throughout the gallery with the occasional purple crepe streamer wrapped around various body parts.  I am clearly not an artsy fartsy kind of person.  I'm plain jane.  I like normal food, bottled water, and air conditioning.  I like family pictures up on the wall.  I prefer boobs tucked safely into well-fitted bras.  So sue me.

So this plane jane told her husband that it was time to go.  Blame the bitchy wife.  I don't care.  I can own that role.  I play it well.  He obliged and we donated our $50 to Cheesecake Factory instead.

As Mandi put it:  "I have always hated cancer." 

Fancy Fainting Part 2

I love this story and I love telling it.  I imagine it is somewhat therapeutic for me...and of course I clearly love to tell stories so it's a double bonus.  Many of you have probably heard it before....some of you experienced some of it with me.  One particular friend experienced it up close and personal. 

On Memorial Weekend I wrote a blog entitled Fancy Fainting Part 1.  Well, fast forward about three and a half weeks to June 22nd.  I had made it safely down to Alabama despite the doctors orders not to drive.  I had visited with Dr. Robinson, our team physician for the Alabama Gymnastics Team.  He agreed something was amiss and sent me to a neurologist where I checked out fine....that's right: my brain, despite various concussions over the years of gymnastics and general hyperactivity, was in perfect working order.  Insert obvious comments here.

So on to the cardiologist I went.  No biggie.  June 22nd.  About 3:00 in the afternoon.  Dr. Anne Lewis....after whom I later named my first dog Louie (God rest his little soul).  Got my first test out of the way, an echo cardiogram.  It showed some abnormalities so I figured they had pinpointed the issue.  A gymnastics alumni had just educated me on mitro valve prolapse about an hour before my appointment.  It was the week of gymnastics camp and many alumni were in town.  When they told me it was MVP I thought "OK, cool.  I can manage that."  A little change in diet, maybe some meds and I was good to go.  We went ahead with the final test.  The tilt table test. 

I was in my little room all hooked up to the monitor just waiting on everyone to come in and start the test.  I remember actually playing with my heart rate.  I would look away from the monitor and slowly decrease my heart rate by calming myself down and breathing slowly.  I could get it pretty low. Lucky me!! 

In comes the nurse or the tech or whomever was working with me that day.  My teammate Shay was interning at Dr. Lewis' office so she was in the room with me too.  If I remember right this was the first tilt table she had helped with.  Shay, correct me if I am wrong :)

So the whole point of the test was to strap me to a table, stand the table up on it's end, and monitor my heart rate and blood pressure at various angles from standing to lying flat.  Overall I think it was supposed to last for 45 minutes.  About 3 minutes in things starting going south.  Well, not things so much as all of the blood in my body.  Headed straight for my feet.  Not so much in my head.  About 5 minutes in, it happened. 

The last thing I remember is looking over to the monitor and seeing my heart rate in the low 30's. Then it stopped all together although I clearly don't remember that part.

The next thing I remember is being PISSED!!!  Super, super mad.  Although no one would ever have been able to tell because I was still unconscious for all intensive purposes.  I can honestly say my heart rate is just increasing writing this....which is a good thing overall :)  Better than the alternative. 

I was mad.  Did I mention that?  The reason I was mad was because I could suddenly hear the people in the doctor's office calling my name.  Just like in the movies, it sounded far away at first and then stronger and stronger.  "Gwen.  Gweeeeeennnnnnn.  Wake up.  Can you hear us Gwen?  Gwen, can you open your eyes?  Gwen, Gwen.  You gave us quite a scare, Gwen.  We are going to put a pacemaker in you.  Your heart stopped and it took us a while to get it going again.  Gwen.  Gweeeeennnnn.  Can you hear us?"  I can hear those words as if it just happened yesterday and not 12 years ago...almost to the minute as I write this, oddly enough!!!

I was mad because in the nearly 60 seconds that my heart stopped on that table in Tuscaloosa, Alabama I had died and gone to Heaven.  I know that is where I was.  I have no doubt.  I don't even have a desire to try and convince anyone.  I know where I was and what I experienced in those 50-ish seconds.  And I was mad because I never wanted to leave.  Not a death wish by any means.  Not even in the slightest.  I had a lot to live for.  I had just finished 14 years of gymnastics and I was finally ready to move to the next phase of my life. 

It was just that heaven was the most wonderful and lovely place anyone could possibly imagine.  A place that no one would ever, ever want to leave.  I was so mad at the people who took me away from the most peaceful of places.  I even tried to stay there.  Tried to go back.  Tried to hang on to that lovely place called Heaven.  I am, of course, thankful now that they saved my life but in those few minutes between Heaven and being fully alive again, I was angry.  Lucky for them I didn't even have the strength to open my eyes for another several minutes.  And by then there was such a flurry of action and reacting that I got caught up in the drama.  It took me until later that night in my hospital room to be able to sort of realize what all had happened.  And then it took me another few months before I could put it into words and tell anyone.  I told a few close friends and even fewer family members.  Just sort of testing out how it sounded out loud to tell about the experience.

About two years later I was a regular guest speaker at American Heart Association events in the Birmingham area.  I was the guest speaker at one of their kick off events for fund raising.  Having benefited from their fund raising events with a state of the art Medtronic Pacemaker, I enjoyed giving back to them in the best way I knew how.   I have always been a fan of public speaking and anyone that knows me knows that talking about myself comes very easy.  I don't need index cards or notes or a teleprompter to tell my own story.  I usually just wing it and see where the event and the audience takes me.  I can usually read them pretty good and this particular audience was very welcoming.  I found myself telling the story and leading into my experience with Heaven.  It was such a rewarding experience. 

Now I want to tell everyone!  Again, not to convince or convert or turn anyone.  Just to simply share in the joy that is God and Heaven.  To tell people that it exists and it is as wonderful and exquisite as you could ever dream it to be.  It is real.  I have been there.  I have felt it.  I have experienced it.  I know that everyone reading this has had their own life experiences and have certainly lost love ones.  I hope, I very sincerely hope, that this gives each of you some peace to know that Heaven most truly and surely does exist and whomever is there is in eternal happiness.  I hope to see you all there someday. 

Dr. Lewis, if you ever read this I want to say thank you again.  I don't know if I have ever told you this story, but perhaps you have heard similar stories from other patients whose lives you have saved.  I sure was mad at you and your staff that afternoon, but I really can't thank you enough now.  You and your staff gave me my life back in the most literal of senses. 

And to Dr. Robinson, you will always hold a very special place in my  heart.  No pun intended.  Your willingness to follow through on what might have seemed like nothing but turned into something quite literally saved my life.  I don't think anyone looked more surprised than you did that evening when you stopped by the hospital to make your rounds.  I vividly remember you telling me that you send hundreds and hundreds of patients for similar tests all looking for this very thing and never really expecting it to happen.  Thank you for your diligent follow through. 

Road Signs

Back in the olden days my family used to pile 15+ people into 3 cars and drive for 2 days to Daytona Beach, Florida for summer vacation and to see the Daytona 500.  Yup, every summer.   Later on we did it with some family friends, the Houghtons.  Four adults and 4 children.  It was awesome.  Of course I wasn't one of the adults so I probably didn't mind being crammed into a car for 2 days as much as they did.  The good years were when we had a station wagon and could lay down in the back, spread out, play games, wave at passing cars, etc.  We were not concerned with seat belts or car seats.  There was a lot of laying in the floorboards and in the back windows.  Climbing from the "hump" in the front seat to the back seat.  Gosh I LOVED riding on the hump in the front seat.  That was like the prime spot to see everything! 

I've got some really great 8 mm videos from my childhood of those trips.  My parents converted them onto DVDs for us a few Christmas's ago.  I am amazed at the number of people we have crammed into the cars!  Some really great memories! 

Anyway, this was clearly before the age of cell phones or even the good ol' bag phones for the car.  The only way to communicate when someone had to stop and use the bathroom (which was often with young children) was to slow down or speed up to pass the other cars in our procession and hold up signs saying "Need to pee"  or "need food" or "need gas" or "ready to move the kids to your car."  I don't know if they actually had that last one but I'm thinking I would have if I were them!!

Today on my way home from work I was thinking that I would like to have a little stack of flash card type signs to hold up to various drivers. I think you know where I'm going with this.  And once the idea got rolling in my head it started to really take shape.  This is a new age.  A new century.  Hell, it's a new millennium.  And thus, the signs must roll with the times.  They will be laminated for safe keeping.  Perhaps 3 hold punched with binder rings so I can easily flip through them.  Color coded seems like a good idea.  But organization can only get you so far.  It's the words that will make this plan work.  Here's what I have in mind:

"I SEE YOU PICKING YOUR NOSE"
"IT'S CALLED A BLINKER. LEARN IT.  LIVE IT.  LOVE IT"
"SORRY MY HUSBAND IS RIDING YOUR ASS"
and the follow up to that one:
"SORRY MY HUSBAND JUST FLIPPED YOU OFF.  WE WILL BE FIGHTING ABOUT IT FOR THE NEXT 25 MILES"
"I WOULD LIKE TO TAKE THE NUT SAC HANGING OFF OF YOUR TRUCK AND TIE IT AROUND YOUR NECK"
"I DON'T THINK YOUR HANDICAPPED STICKER IS DOING YOU JUSTICE"
"I DON'T REALLY CARE THAT YOU GAVE ME THE DEATH STARE AS YOU DRIVE BY"
"PUT YOUR KID IN A DAMN CAR SEAT"
and just for good measure....because I think it is timeless:
"READY TO MOVE THE KIDS TO YOUR CAR"

anyway, it's just an idea I am tossing around.  I am very open to suggestions.

Spiritual Preparedness Plan

I am a big "what if-er."  I can pretty much drive myself all the way to the loony bin with what if this' and what if that's.  I think that the recent tornadoes in Missouri and Alabama have really brought out the "what ifs" in a lot of us.  I have heard many people talking about getting their emergency plans and emergency kits together.  People are getting physically prepared, but what about getting emotionally and spiritually prepared?

As so many people have recently experienced, any amount of physical preparation and disaster plans may not be enough in the face of an unexpected event like a tornado.  Split second decisions to take cover or grab your pet; to get out of your car and dive into a ditch or stay in it and outrun the storm; or to hold on to a loved one while another is being ripped from your arms surely result in a lifetime of what ifs.   And not only the what ifs, but the blaming of self or others for tragic outcomes.  It is impossible to predict outcomes and it's impossible to rethink every decision we make.  Physical preparedness and general decision making will never be enough.  Faith and spiritual preparedness is the key.

I heard a story recently about a young boy who was torn from his parents arms during the tornado last month.  And while that story is sadly familiar to many, what may or may not be as common was that the family could hear him saying bible verses as he was taken away.  Whatever split second decisions the family made in the moments before the tornado likely would not have changed the outcome.  But the decisions that family made to spiritually educate and prepare their child served him best at the end of his life.  For that alone, they should be very proud. 
I have had a few near-death experiences, more than my fair share probably.  One of those experiences was in a tornado.  Or rather on the very outer edges of one.  Near-death might be exaggerating it but we did not know that at the time.  My mom and I were driving from Birmingham, AL back to Tuscaloosa.  We had been shopping all day for dresses to wear to a family wedding and graduations later that spring and summer.  Tornadoes and severe weather are just as common in Alabama as they are here in the Midwest.  Spring is filled with storm watches and warnings.  We knew the drill.  But life can't, or doesn't, stop for every severe weather warning.  It's just the nature of living it every year.  We become immune. 

Mom and I were almost back to Tuscaloosa on Interstate 20/59 in my white 2-door Chevy Lumina.  We were less than a mile from the T-town exit of McFarland Blvd and we had been watching the sky all the way home.  I remember the storms had been bad already in Birmingham and we were headed west directly into them.  It was bad and it was getting worse.  We tried to inch our way back to the house I rented with my friend Clare....a house which incidentally was destroyed in the recent Tuscaloosa tornado. 

I have always been taught to never ever stop on the side of the road.  It's safer to keep moving forward and so we did.  At one point we could feel the tornado more so than we could see it.  We could feel the car lifting slightly every few seconds as if something was drifting up under us.  We found out later that the tornado had hit the Wal-mart at the McFarland Blvd exit.  It has been only a few blocks from us so we know now for sure that we were feeling the outer edges of the twister.  At the time we didn't have I-phones to check the radar.  I don't think we even had cell phones at the time because I remember my friends Lisa and Clare being worried sick when we finally arrived home.  We had no idea how close we were too it other than the fact that it seemed to be lifting our car off the road ever so slightly every few seconds.  I think that tornado dropped a car into the middle of one of the aisles of the Wal-Mart. 

Mom and I both knew that we were potentially in some serious danger, but instead of freaking out we calmly discussed our options and the possibilities.  We knew we didn't want to stop, but going forward was proving to be dangerous too.  I honestly don't even remember if there were many other cars around.  I think that it was too dark to see much and we were focused on ourselves.

I remember saying a prayer with my mom and then she told me that if something happened to us and if one of us didn't survive that the other one of us should not feel bad or responsible.  Then we just held hands and said prayers, some silently and some aloud.  I have always thought that was so insightful of my mom.  She knew that we were in God's hands and there was no place for guilt or blame if one of us made it through this alive but the other one did not.  I can imagine that is easier said that done, but it's a very good place to start when facing tragedy. 

Every time I hear a story about a family that has experienced loss of life during a tornado, I think about that day and how strong and calm my mom was for both of us. I hope that I can set the same example for my children. So every day I am trying to ask myself if I, like my mother, am working to prepare my children spiritually for whatever may come.  Good, bad, wonderful, or tragic.  I hope so.  I really, really hope so.

3 generations at the circus- 2010

Fancy Fainting Part 1

Twelve years ago today I had what I found out later would lead to a life changing event.  For the 6th time in my life, and 2nd time in church, I fainted.  In true Gwen fashion I didn't just faint.  I made a whole production out of it. 

It was Sunday of Memorial weekend and our tiny Mary Immaculate Catholic Church was overfull.  The church that seats a max of about 80 probably had close to 100 people crammed inside.  People were lined up along all of the walls and squishing as many people as possible into each pew.  This, my friends, should have been my first clue.  But as usual I was completely oblivious to my "condition."  After a 13-year gymnastics career had ended just 4 weeks earlier no one would have suspected that I had a serious medical issue.  Even though as my senior season came to a close my body was screaming at me that something was wrong.  I didn't listen and none of us noticed.  Nevermind that I was violently ill after every competition for about the last 2 months of the seasono.  Nevermind that I had lost that now famous (to a few) 5 pounds in just one week of the past Christmas vacation....something that had NOT happend in the three previous Christmas breaks!  Nope, we just all assumed I had the flu....every single weekend!

So my body had been trying to tell me, but I wasn't listening.  Fast forward to Memorial weekend 1999.  Crowded and hot church.  Allison was serving at Mass and just before Communinion...BAM....she hits the floor.  Yup, she fainted.  I swear my dad was halfway up the center aisle before she hit the floor.  He knows to keep an eye on his daughters in a hot stuffy church.  So Allison is led to the fresh air. 

Then I start thinking.  And that's where it all went wrong.  I know now that my condition is actually related to the nerve that leads from my brain to my heart so THINKING about passing out is most surely going to lead to passing out.  All of these years that I had ignored those pre-fainting feelings had actually served me very well.  Had I known what was going on in my body I probably would have fainted daily.  Ignorance was bliss, as they say.

So I started thinking, and thinking, and thinking.  And the more I thought, the weaker I got.  And I'm thinking to myself "I might pass out.  No, I won't pass out.  I might.  I will just sit down.  No I think I can stand.  NO better sit down.  No.  I'm ok.  I'm ok...I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm ok." 

And the next thing I know the paramedics are standing over me with that damn smelly stuff trying to get me to come to.  What I know now is that my poor older sister had suffered the brunt of my fainting once again.  This was the 3rd time I had passed out next to her.  She knew the drill.  Try to catch me and lay me down.  She and I together had tried to make it to the back door for fresh air but I hit the ground before we made it out.  But I think, if I know the story straight, that my dad actually ordered her to sit down before she passed out too.  We had 2 out of 3 Spidle girls down on that day. No need to push the envelope here.

Like I said before, I don't just pass out.  I get fancy with it.  I seizured, stopped breathing, required CPR from the respitory therapist that I know God placed in our church that morning just for my benefit.  I was splashed with Holy Water, because it was the only thing available in our tiny church.  I guess if I was going to do it, that was as good a place as any. So there I went, headed 50 minutes away to Liberty Hospital by ambulance with the lights and sirens going.  Not that I remember, I was still out of it. 

In retrospect that should have been another major red flag that no one picked up on.  It took me a good hour or so to really come around and know what was going on.  Then another several hours before I really could get up and walk around or resume any normal activity.  But by the time I got to the hospital and was hooked up to all of the monitors, the doctors couldn't see anything obvious going on.  I had been through this before.  Once in that very hospital, once in a Las Vegas Emergency Room, and once in a surgery prep room in Tuscaloosa before one of my ankle surgeries.  The other two times I am pretty sure happened during the middle of the night and I miraculously recovered on my own without CPR.  One of my doctors later told me that it was "likely" that I would always come around on my own without the help of CPR, but honestly why chance it.  Is that something I want to worry about every day?  Ummm, NO.

There I was at Liberty Hospital ER.  They couldn't really put their finger on what had happend and I had been through this before.  I begged for them to discharge me so that I could return to Alabama to see all of my team physicians at the University of Alabama who I really felt would take a closer look at the whole picture.  And so they did.  I discharged to my parents, slept all the way home and for a few more hours on their couch, and then resumed normal life.  Normal life was about to change drastically, but that blog is still in the making....

I don't think a Sunday goes by, especially at Mary Immaculate, that I don't think of that day.  Especially on today.  My what a difference 12 years makes!!

Justin's Conversation with God

Sometimes I use this blog as a way to tell funny stories, or as a way to reflect, or as my coping mechanism for the endless crazy times that define my 30's.  Other times, like now, I use it as a sort of electronic baby book for the boys.  They aren't babies anymore but I love being able to capture some of these stories so that they can read them later....and not in my horrible handwriting! 

It's amazing to see the boys' relationship with God develop year by year.  Leo is beside himself at church every Sunday waiting to sing the Alleluhia...but make no mistake, he's still 2 years old.  Almost immediately after the Alleluhia he begs to go home for the next 30 minutes!!  He might take about a 3 minute break when he gets to take his $1 up to the basket and then immediately back to begging to go home.  Justin is learning to go beyond saying prayers and maybe, just maybe, starting to understand actually talking and praying to God. 

This past weekend Justin and I had a great conversation about God.  I am pretty sure the discussion began as a delay tactic for going to bed, but I will take what I can get.  It was very interesting to see a 4 year old try to grasp the concept of talking to God.  Justin had been misbehaving all evening so in true Catholic fashion I started trying to teach him about praying and confession.  I told him that in his prayers tonight he might want to tell God that he is sorry for being sassy and for hitting Leo. 
Enter an endless amount of questions:

Can I talk to God anytime I want? (yes)
Anytime? (yes)
When I wish upon a star is that talking to God? (sure)
Could I say "I love you God?"  (of course, He loves to hear that)
Could I say "Abracadabra?" (sure, you can say whatever you want to God)
Could I say "1, 60, 60, 111, 60?"  (well, that's not a real number but you can say anything to God)

Where is God? (He is everywhere and when we talk to Him, He is in our hearts)
Like Balentine's Day? (no, this heart is in our body)
Where is our heart? (it's in our body.  I let him lay on my chest and hear my heart beat)
What does it do? (it keeps us alive by pumping blood through our body)
Is God in our blood? (yes, God is everywhere)

Did you know that Dracula likes blood?  (yes)
Is God in Dracula? (no, Dracula isn't real.  He is pretend)
What about Batman?  Is God in Batman?  (no, Batman isn't real either)
Yes he is!  When he is Batman he isn't real because that is a costume, but when he isn't his costume then he is real like me.  (Ok, then God is in Batman when he is real).

How does our heart keep us alive?  (It just keeps us going like how batteries keep toys going)
What about when it runs out? (the heart doesn't run out like batteries do...I SO did not want to go down that road too!  This was heavy enough)
Like Robots?  Do Robots have God?  (no they aren't real)
Only good guys have hearts, right? (kind of)
Not Joker.  He is a bad guy.  But all of the good guys are real people so they have hearts.   (ok)

So I can talk to God anytime?  (yes)
What if I am talking to someone else and He can't hear me? (He can always hear you no matter who you are talking to)
Will he be mad at me if I am talking to someone else?  (no, but He wants you to talk nice to everyone).

Can He talk to me?  (kind of.  He is in your brain and in your heart talking to you.)
Like numbers are in my brain? (kind of)
ok mom.  Good night. 

and just like that, he was done with our conversation.  It was like he had learned all he needed to learn that night about talking to God.  Just warmed my heart....and made up for some of the sassy behaviors :)