Abbreviated season

I DID play with Peeps this season -

after all, it wouldn't be Lent if I hadn't;

although it was a more limited selection than usual.

Since we're now entering Holy Week 

and the season is almost at an end -

here they are.

Truth is, I've been far more focused on mini collages

and Soul Collage cards than Peeps -

apparently, I only have so much bandwidth for creativity

and mine has been going in SO many different directions.

 

We've also been taking naps ... 

many, many naps

Trying to regain our equilibrium before heading back to New Mexico later this month -

for what I hope will be the final round of surgeries!

Respite

 True story.

 

Hard for all of us, not just moms!

But there comes a time

when it's time to get on with your 'regular' lives,

no matter how hard;

that time came -

and I drove away from the end of the lane in Taos 

for a brief respite.

 

I'll return in a few weeks when a final surgery is scheduled 

to remove all the hardware from my sons mouth.

 

In the meantime, I left him stocked with Ensure and Boost;

I'm available by cell phone anytime -

and, if needed, I can drive back sooner.

By "regular" lives, I, of course, mean 

taxes,

Nanny time 

and some much needed downtime 

playing with paper and making collages!

Seems being vigilant is still on my mind!

That's what respites are for, right?

I'm still here, though I'll be laying low for a time.

I'll come out when I'm rested!

Barriers

 It's occurred to me in the past few days that there are 2 major obstacles 

which are making adjustment to my sons current diagnosis 

and treatment difficult to take - 

both emotionally and physically -

for him as well as for me.

 

One is that for all the advances Western medicine has made in the recent past,

the treatment for a fractured jaw remains quite barbaric.

 I doubt it's just my sons case 

or the fact that his jaw was fractured in three places

which leads me to this conclusion;

the insertion of metal plates into a persons gums,

interspersed with metal brackets installed on every tooth 

through which wire is woven to create a metal barrier 

resembling a chicken wire fence is awful.

 

While the illustration above is bad enough, 

my son also has wires running horizontally as well as vertically

so his mouth hardware resembles a fine mesh handheld strainer.

Nothing except fluid of clear liquid consistency can get in - or out.

Add to that all the warnings about not being alone -

and carrying a scissors with you at all times -

 in case the wire has to be cut if you start choking and

it's enough to give you anxiety in and of itself.

Then 'they' give you oral antiseptic 'wash' 

which you're supposed to get passed the barrier three times a day,

swish in your mouth and then spit out;

said fluid which increases the production of saliva

which drips down the back of your throat, 

especially when sleeping,

so you wake up frequently coughing -

feeling like you're choking!

 

The anxiety that goes along with all of this cannot be understated.

And it's that anxiety about being alone -

with the potential for a fatal outcome -

that is obstacle number two.

There are few situations in which ones "aloneness" is emphasized more-

or with more dire consequences for the same-

than this diagnosis.

My son and I have each been comfortably single for a long time.

It's not what either of us consciously chose; 

it just happened and 

we've each learned to live with it

and have adapted to our circumstances very well.

 

While I'm content to spend my remaining days in solitary pursuits,

he still has hopes of finding someone with whom to share his life.

 

With the exception of the occasional invitation to a wedding, with a plus one,

for which you momentarily realize there is no PLUS ONE,

there are few times when I dwell on, or think about, my single status.

 

This diagnosis however reinforces on a frequent basis

that if you are alone, it's dangerous

and you shouldn't, under any circumstances, stay that way!

 

And that's a bitter pill for both of us to swallow;

on a visceral and cellular level.

After years of convincing ourselves that we're more than FINE by ourselves,

we now have to adjust to someone else determining that this line of thinking was wrong

and dangerous.

 

Granted that isn't the intent, 

but it is the outcome and implication.

 

Big feelings, hard choices 

and lots of wrestling with issues which we thought were settled long ago.

Two independent adults, used to being alone -

by temperament, and reinforced by isolation of a global pandemic for 2 years -

now sharing basically the same 4 rooms, 24/7,

and, all things considered,

I'd say we're fucking rock stars!

 

But easy?

Nope, wouldn't say that.

 

Keep those prayers and positive vibes coming our way!

 We're not quite halfway through.

Patience

 IS a virtue and IS elusive, for some of us, anyway.

 

How poor are they that have not patience!

What wound did ever heal but by degrees? 

Wm Shakespeare 

 

I was amazed at the family resemblance yesterday between

my son and WM Shakespeare - 

at least as portrayed by Staffordshire on one of their Toby mugs;

a relic from my mothers home which found its way to my sons. 

 We're both finding our way;

trying to get a schedule of pain meds, sleeping and 'eating', 

or should I say 'drinking',

that works to keep discomfort, starvation, dehydration and going stir crazy at bay.

The difficulty lies in the reality that what works one day

doesn't seem to carry over to the next.

This need for constant monitoring and readjusting keeps one of your toes, for sure.

 

 Parenting someone who is a full blown adult is also a tricky proposition

under the best of circumstances;

unrelenting pain, 

adjustments in perceptions of self,

dietary restrictions on a massive level

and being homebound is NOT

the best of circumstances.

I think both of us are working hard to make this work.

He knows he needs help;

I know this is where I need to be right now - 

and this is NOT a long term arrangement;

there is an end coming.

We just need to be patient.

Luckily, Taos couldn't be a prettier location in which to spend some time -

and end of winter/hint of spring is a gorgeous time

with volatile weather that also keeps you on your toes

with its changeability.

I must also say that its wonderful to see new sights

while doing chores as simple as grocery shopping;

new street art and buildings which look nothing like the ones at home.

I also found a used book store 

 and was able to buy several magazines

that allowed me to make some small collages

(on 3x5 index cards);

just enough to exercise my creativity.

I'm here; not going anywhere.

 

Life: Embrace it all,

but wear boots;

at some point, you'll need to kick some ass.

Wired: a whole different set of skills

 

Just so you know_

sacrifices  are being made.

 

 

No one is prepared when their number comes up.

 

Taking it day by day.

Hoping to be proven wrong!
 

 

Wilderness

We need these times in the wilderness, 

away from the norm,

where we are stripped bare

of the baggage and burdens we carry

in order to be formed and reformed

over and over again by God.

 

We need these times in the wilderness

to step out into the unknown,

to seek after God's footprints in the earth,

to listen for God's voice in the wind,

to be steeped in the fullness of Gods Spirit moving

in, around and through us.

 

Holy God, meet us, transform us, remake us in the wilderness

Amen

 

Bishop Deon Johnson

 

 

Taos Peeps

It IS, after all, Lent.

And they DO have Peeps in New Mexico, apparently.

Not quite sure how this will work out, 

but playing with food for another season might be just the diversion I need 

to maintain some semblance of sanity. 

I'm already going native:

no makeup ✅

denim shirt ✅

grey hair pulled back with a headband ✅

I'll be able to pass as a true Taosoan before this stint in NM is over.

When life is a fuckin metaphor

 It was a lesson I would have sworn I didn't need to learn again:

we don't actually have control,

we have the illusion of control.

 

Apparently God, or the powers that be, 

thought a seasonal reminder was in order.

Late winter was going along as planned.

Back from a brief sun filled stay in warmer climes, 

I settled in for a period of reading, 

playing with paper/ making mini collages 

 

and made a few additional

anthropomorphic creatures to round out the tree.

Valentines Day came and went -

with the traditional studio photos to capture where the grands are now -

and they are perfectly wonderful.

I realize all grandmothers are biased but, come on,

it doesn't get any cuter than these two!

 

It felt like things were good -

because it was good -

and then, in a heartbeat, another fall.

Not mine this time, but my sons.

One uneventful evening, after work,

my son took a shower, ate some dinner and stood up -

only to find himself minutes later on the stone floor.

 

A vasovagal episode which caused him to pass right out, 

without so much as being able to brace himself.

He struck the tile countertop on the way down,

 before hitting the floor -

breaking his jaw in 3 places.

 

In swift succession,

this event was followed by an ER visit 

and a referral to the University system for specialty care.

For those of us lucky enough to live in proximity to Level 1 Trauma Centers,

or, in my case, multiple choices of Trauma Care,

its hard to fathom having to either drive yourself immediately post trauma

 or ask someone else to drive you

several hours away to get accurate diagnosis or treatment.

 

The father of my sons friend was willing to take him to Albuquerque  (over 2 hrs away)

for the initial referral which resulted in the recommendation of surgery 

and his jaws being wired shut for 6- 8 weeks.

 

Some major life changes were afoot -

for more than my son.

My son is fiercely independent; he is also single.

He lives 900 miles from the closest family member

and, due to Covid striking immediately after his move to Taos,

and subsequent unemployment for 2 years,

he has only a small circle of friends in his local area.

The more we realized what was facing him, 

the more convinced I was that he could not, 

nor should not,

be expected to face that alone.

Life was rearranged to the best of my abilities-

with me giving thanks that my term as Senior Warden was over,

my cataract surgery was cancelled,

my taxes were already at the accountants

and a good friend who fosters dogs for the Humane Society had an opening

to take Oreo! 

 

Things fell into place, I hopped in the car -

and despite a snow delay which left me stranded in western KS for an extra day

I'm now in New Mexico

for the duration of Lent, possibly beyond,

depending on how healing goes.

                                                           Liquids only for 8 weeks -

a necessity for him 

and in solidarity for me.

It just feels cruel to cook and eat 'ordinary' food 

in the face of someone who is struggling to get down clear liquids.

Can't complain about the views...

the Sangre de Cristo mountains as your backyard backdrop is easy to get used to,

Not gonna lie - this might be the last 'happy' picture I have of my son for a few weeks.

We ate at a Mexican restaurant in Albuquerque the night before surgery;

even though he couldn't chew, 

he loved gumming the filling from a cheese enchilada along with beans and rice.

 

The surgery was far more extensive and intense than either of us anticipated 

or could have prepared for.

To get to the break on the right side, the team went in externally -

pulling the facial nerve out of the way to get to the bone.

The docs are hopeful that they avoided any permanent nerve damage/paralysis, 

although his R side isn't yet responding the same way as the L.

 

The front and Left fxs were fixed from the inside of his mouth, 

so the stitches and swelling aren't as visible - but just as present.

This procedure was a same day surgery event, 

so barely 2 hours after a 5 hr surgery, we were headed home -

in the dark, driving on the high road to Taos -

which is always under construction.

 

Mike was barely conscious in the front seat, nauseous, holding an emesis bag,

with the wire cutters on the dash since there's a high likelihood of aspiration/death 

if you don't immediately go in and cut the wires 

when someones vomiting when their jaws wired shut.

 

Did I mention I was due for cataract surgery 

so driving at night is more of a challenge than in other years?

 

To say it was a harrowing journey is understatement.

 

Not gonna lie, the past few days have been hard for both of us.

 

With your jaws clamped shut, 

no movement possible, 

try breathing, drinking and speaking -

even for a few minutes.

 

Since the team needed access to Mikes mouth during surgery, 

he was intubated through his nose for the ventilator -

which led to irritation and swelling of his nose when he was finally taken off the vent -

which led to decreased ability to breath easily.

Air hunger and the panic it can create in those experiencing it are known consequences of this surgery. 

There's a sense of being in a straight jacket internally  

which translates to an overall physical sensation of restriction

and resultant panic.

 

Just when your head has been pounded on and manipulated for hours,

you've got this massive head fuck to deal with -

all while you're adjusting to your gums being stretched over barbed wire 

and constantly abraded.

Its been a tough adjustment.

But we're making it.

 

I'm concentrating on how apropros it is to be in the desert during Lent;

it certainly adds a different dimension to my musings.

I'll certainly share more of the journey as we travel this new road -

but, for the moment,

prayers and healing energy gratefully accepted.