Mom's back in the hospital

Yesterday at the nursing home, Mom's heart-rate went sky-high (152 beats/min), so they transported her back to Baylor Hospital. I don't have much to report yet since I haven't talked with her doctor or the head nurse yet, but she is resting comfortably at the moment. They did get the heart-rate down to normal while in the ER yesterday.

One thing making this more difficult is Mom's confusion. She simply doesn't recall much of anything that has transpired in the near past. This means that she has to be told constantly where she is and why she is here. It must be awful to wake up in the morning in a strange room and not understand where you are. So please pray for her in this difficult situation.

Questions for the Obama supporter

I don't even know if any Obama supporters read my blog. But just in case, I'd like for you to answer some questions. I'm not trying to pick a fight or act condescendingly to you. I honestly want to know your thought process on these issues:

1. Does Obama's stand on abortion bother you? Do you put the mother's rights above those of the child in the womb?

2. Does Obama's association with Bill Ayers bother you, or do you take him for his word that Ayers is merely a guy who lives in his neighborhood?

3. Do you feel any qualms about Obama's ties with Jeremiah Wright and his racist rantings?

4. Is the fact that much of Obama's academic career remains under lock and key bothersome to you? Is this at all suspicious to you?

5. Can you name something Obama has accomplished in his political career?

6. Does his view of Iran bother you?

Again, I'm not trying to bait somebody into a flame-throwing contest. The above questions are the kinds of questions Republicans are asking during this election season. If a Democrat can respond with frank answers in the same spirit in which the questions were asked, I would love to get your viewpoints.

Beyond Belief

Today, I finished reading the book, Beyond Belief, by Josh Hamilton. For those who don't know, Hamilton plays baseball for the Texas Rangers. It's an amazing account of the two forces constantly battling for our souls - good and evil.

In a nutshell: Hamilton was the top high school baseball player in the land a few years ago. Three years later, he had blown his $4.5 million signing bonus on drugs, had alienated himself from his family and his wife, and was wandering the countryside of North Carolina in a stupor. The details are shocking as Hamilton is ever-aware of the stupidity of what he is doing but has absolutely no clue as to how to reverse the spiral downward.

In the middle of still another night of heavy drug use, he wakes up on the floor of a trailor belonging to guys he didn't even know. He realizes he has finally hit bottom. He staggers to his truck and drives to the home of the only relative who hadn't given up on him...his grandmother. She takes him in (at 2 in the morning) and immediately cooks him a meal. In his baseball days, Hamilton had 235 lbs. packed into a 6'4" frame...now, a spare 180 lbs exposed skin and bone. She basically puts him on house arrest, gives him straightforward advice, and feeds him. Meanwhile, Josh commits his life to God. Horrors! I giving away everything!!

Get the book. Read the book. If your not a baseball fan, skip the first third of the book, which is about Hamilton's precocious athletic prowess as a youth. Concentrate instead on the details of how low Satan can pull someone down and how high God can lift the same person. It's inspiring to the max.

Sunday evening update...

Thrilled to report that Mom has started adjusting to the new environment. My sister Marybeth spent the morning with her and accompanied her to the church service provided by the home. Mom was in good spirits and that, friends, is absolute music to my ears.

Sunday morning update...

Short post this morning. We got Mom moved to Christian Care Center yesterday, but her short-term memory loss was playing havoc with her adjustment. She seems to erase much of what she knows every few hours. So after all the work to explain to her that this move was to rehab her left hand and arm and get her strong enough to go back home, Mom got confused after a couple of hours...thinking she was still at Baylor and not understanding what this was all about. My prayer is that she will come around to the reality of her new environment and be able to grasp why she is there...and accept it.

And...Carole is quite ill with a sinus infection, headache, and fever. I need to be able to snap my fingers and take care of her, too. I'm so glad I have a Father in heaven who loves me and understands me and hears my prayers. What a blessing!

Update on Mom

Just as Carole and I were walking up to the hospital around 12:30 this afternoon, my cell rang and it was Dr. Myers' secretary...informing me that Mom's coumadin level was too high for her to be released today. So now we're looking at tomorrow (probably) or maybe Monday. The doctor has taken coumadin from her med list and so her level should drop to acceptable levels soon.

Dr. Myers made the mistake of checking on Mom late this afternoon when my little sister was there. Marybeth confronted him with the facts: Mom was in better shape BEFORE he began the cocktail of medicines and hasn't felt anything like her usual self since these meds have been administered. She got him to agree to review the meds with the goal of eliminating any she positively doesn't need. The nurse said that most of the meds were for the fluid on Mom's lungs and wouldn't be used once she was out of the hospital. Good News!!

Transitions

On Friday, we will move my Mom from Baylor Hospital to a rehab facility. One of her nurses told me that they expect her to rehab for two weeks before being able to go home. I'm not so nearly optimistic. She is on numerous meds which make her feel woozy and sleepy. I'll be working to see if we can cut those down in the next few days. One concern I have is that she's given pills as though she's a full-sized adult. Actually, she's somewhere in the 85-lb. area and is extremely frail. I pray that she endures the transition well.

On a much lighter note, I'm finally driving a nearly-new bus. It is so great, so modern, so light-years ahead of the dogs I've been driving that I genuinely feel guilty as I motor down the road. Then I think of all the years I'd climb aboard an old yellow-hound that had been sitting out in 100+ degree heat all day...yes, climb aboard wearing nice slacks, a starched shirt, and a nice tie, and then drive for an hour. When I'd get back home, nothing on me would be dry. Bees flying in the windows, kids yelling out the open windows at passing motorists, and scores of other memories are now just memories since the windows on my bus should never have to be lowered regardless of the season.

My new bus has intermittent wipers, remote-controlled outside mirrors, a power captain's chair for the driver's seat, three powerful air-conditioners, tilt steering wheel, a cup-holder (uh, just for the driver), and a bunch of buttons whose purpose I haven't investigated yet. Life is good!

Monday morning finds me...

...sitting here at Baylor Hospital where Mom is being cared for. This was to be the day that she might go home, but I think she's too weak for that now. I got here before 7 today so I could catch the doctor on his rounds...he said he'd be by between 7 and 8, but now it's after 8 and no doctor.

The family has had serious issues with this guy from the beginning. He tends to over-prescribe, over-scan, and generally miss the point of trying to keep Mom comfortable. The biggest issue is with something called amiodarone, a drug designed to control arrhythmia (sp). It has powerful side effects and dosage must be carefully monitored and tweeked. The doc gave it to Mom 18 months ago when she was hospitalized and it just about killed her. When we demanded that the dosage be seriously reduced, she got better immediately and went home. On Thursday, when the doc said Mom would be admitted, I reminded him of this episode and warned him of her vulnerability to this drug's effects. Well, he started her out on a full dosage, and Mom has gone downhill since.

But he hasn't shown up yet. I only hope that when he does (if he does), I can control my anger and speak in measured tones. Hard to do since he's messin' with my momma.

Ruminations...

We had to put Mom back in the hospital on last Thursday. She had suffered a mild stroke a couple of days prior and hadn't told any of us kids. She was also having general weakness and some nausea. Turns out she was having another episode of atrial dibrillation as well. The doctor says she could go home Monday if she responds well to the medicine. The mini-stroke affected her left hand and is making it difficult for her grab or grasp things.

We kids know that we're looking at the inevitable now...getting her into some sort of assisted living arrangement. Fortunately, Mom understands this, too.

On another front, I am so tired of the Fox News Network. Carole has become so very enthralled with the election and its plethora of stories that she has to have the FNC on all the time. I haven't the heart to tell her how utterly beaten down I am by the yelling at the camera by Fox's news anchors. It sounds like I'm intervening in an argument every time I step into our den. Maybe Carole will read this and have mercy on me. Just two more weeks of this...unless there's some sort of disputed election result, something that could well happen.

For those of you following the saga concerning my school bus situation, here's the latest. I had a field trip this morning and amazingly was given bus 824 to drive. It had arrived back from the shop. Even though the field trip never happened (the sponsors and students were no-shows), I got to drive it across town and back. It was a dream...it's only 18 months old, has tilt-steering, and power outside mirrors. Drives and handles like a Lexus. I should officially be assigned the bus on Monday afternoon. I'm really blessed to have a retirement job I thoroughly enjoy. To get to drive SuperBus is icing on the cake.

This is getting silly...

All I do these days, these lovely days, is drive a school bus. My world is a lot simpler than when I was in the classroom trying to explain the International Date Line to middle schoolers. ("What you mean you go back a day?") Retirement is truly wonderful. But if you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that I've been trying to get a new, or almost-new, bus assigned to me. I've spent 26 years driving buses nobody wanted.

It was supposed to be different this year. I was supposed to get bus 819, an almost-new beauty. But when I arrived for work in August, they had pulled 819 and given it to someone else. I was given 499, a really good bus with, uh, 120,794 miles on it. I complained but got nowhere.

But then yesterday I was told that I was being upgraded to bus 824! Outstanding! A wonderful bus barely a year old. I couldn't start driving it yet because they wanted to give me a quick training session this morning. That's fine with me. I've waited 26 years; another 12 hours won't hurt. But then this morning, I was told that the bus was in the shop and that I'd have to get the training session this afternoon. No problem! So I return this afternoon...where I'm told, "We're sorry, but we're sending 824 back to the manufacturer." "What? Why??" "Well, it's horn honks randomly and we can't find the source of the problem." "When will I get it back?" "We have no idea."

Some days, you just can't win. Hey, some decades, too.

Still want him to lead the country?

If you consistently handle the small things in life, chances are excellent that you can tackle the big stuff with ease when life gets tough. I urge you to read the following story about the difference between Obama's campaign and that of McCain:

http://www.cbsnews.com/blogs/2008/10/07/politics/fromtheroad/entry4507703.shtml

It'll be okay, even if HE wins...

I want McCain to be inaugurated next January as much as anyone, but there is already much angst building among Republicans (and family members) as to whether life will still be worth living if Obama gets elected. I'm certainly convinced that his chumminess with Ayers and other weirdos by itself should disqualify him from the Presidency. And his pro-abortion stance is horrible. And he's a liberal. Case closed.

But there's still a month left for things to change, and the political atmosphere these days is nothing if not volatile and subject to quick changes. But there's an even better reason to take a chill pill about a potential Obama presidency. Could it be that a little more challenge would be healthy for us Christians? If Barack really is Muslim-friendly and inclined to make deliterious decisions impacting the future of our great country, wouldn't we be forced to almost draw a line in the sand of our spiritual consciousness? One thing's for sure...we've had it a lot easier than the souls who make up the book Fox's Book of Martyrs. I mean, after all, we live in comfort, we have little or no persecution, and maybe, just maybe, that makes it easier for Satan.

I haven't researched this tonight, but I've always heard that Christianity has flourished in times of persecution. Most of us, if we had to make a quick decision...renounce God or die...would have no trouble staying loyal to our Maker. But we sometimes don't pass the test when the decision is spread over decades...and Satan has a chance to erode our commitment with his lies. Personally, I don't want persecution. I hate confrontation. I want McCain to be elected and Obama to go back to organizing communities. But most of all, I want to go to heaven. If an Obama presidency forces me to "man up" my relationship with God, then it's all for good.

S. Dallas Poverty

I'm getting a real education with the new bus route I have this school year. I guess the area just west of Fair Park has the most abject poverty seen in Dallas. Signs of this are everywhere you look. About a quarter of the houses are boarded up, deserted. Nearly all the others have burglar bars. Many lean to the right or left...some to the right and left.

The toll of poverty on the people there is readily apparent. I see men who are old before their time, their bodies twisted and contorted as they walk the streets. Another cue is the problem posed by transportation...specifically, the lack of available reliable transportation. Cars tend to be beat-up, weathered, and dilapidated. As I reflect on the stress caused when our family has an automobile maintenance issue, I wonder the turmoil caused when one of the aforementioned clunkers gives out. Today, I saw a large lady, appearing to be 40-ish. She was pushing a bicycle along Pennsylvania Avenue. It appeared that she perhaps had been riding the bike but had become winded, and now was simply pushing it along. Obviously, this is not a scene you'll see in the suburbs. I immediately wondered about the circumstances: had she ridden it to work? to check on her mom? Was she on the way to the grocery store? Probably not the latter. There are no grocery stores in S. Dallas.

There is a heavy police presence in this area. It is difficult to travel from my school on the west side of Fair Park, down Pennsylvania, and west to Lamar St. without seeing at least one squad car. Poverty breeds desperation, desperation breeds crime. Now I know all the arguments about folks who've hit bottom...they made their bed, they made poor choices, they should have gotten an education, they're lazy, etc. All I know is that the older I get, the less import I give those arguments. It seems we Christians should be less about explaining and more about reacting.

I've been conducting a strange experiment every afternoon. As I drive down Pennsylvania, I've been noticing a man sitting in front of a house, same place, same time every day. His body is twisted and his head is always canted in a way that suggests mental illness. He is skin and bones and dirty clothing. And he's reading a Bible every time I see him. He always looks up as I pass because, after all, you can hear a school bus coming. About three weeks ago, after I began to pick up on him being there every day, I started waving to him as I passed. And until yesterday, his only response was the coldest of stares...a chilling stare, frankly. But then yesterday, he raised his right hand ever so slightly. And again today, the same reaction, an almost imperceptible wave. In the grand scheme of things, this is pretty small. I can't see the two of us ever getting past this most rudimentary of contacts. But somehow, someway, I was glad to make the connection. A highly blessed, never wanting, educated white man from the bedroom community of Rockwall allowed to penetrate into the sphere of a South Dallas black man. I wonder what he thinks of me?! God moves in mysterious ways!

The height of something...

It's rather embarrassing how this presidential campaign is going. The vitriol between the two camps of supporters is so caustic that I fear the aftermath of Election Day. It appears that the "losers" will be seriously fatalistic about the results. If it's the Dems, they simply will not be able to imagine life with still another dull Republican. If it's the GOP, there will be genuine concern about the future of our country under such an inexperienced leader.

What has sadly added to this situation is the reality that smear tactics work...they really work. That's hardly an endorsement of the intellect of the electorate. But a huge percentage of us seems vulnerable to believing outrageous, messy allegations. Why is that? My guess is that we don't have time to study our candidates or the issues. We therefore will rely on soundbites, gossip, and how tall or short the nominees are rather than what they truly stand for. And why is that? Could it be that we have become a nation of instant-gratification lovers who want quick decisions because research takes time and effort? Pretty sad.

I also am appalled by the talking heads on Fox and CNN who interview guests. They aren't interested in listening to their answers, so interrupting them before they finish a thought is the M.O. of these shows. I'm a Republican, but it galls me to see a lack of grace and politeness that Sean Hannity exhibits. I love his ideas but his attitude is very unappealing. I guess the good old days of gentlemanly disagreement are over.

Stalked by 22's, con't.

Some of you have read a previous blog entry of mine (scroll down), and you know how the number 22 and its cousins delight in ambushing Carole and me on a daily basis. Here's another example:

This morning, I was heading south on I-35 in my bus at 6:30. It was dark, I was sleepy, and my mind was wandering. Then something dawned on me about my bus, which is bus #499. If you add those digits together, you get, ahem, 22. I wondered if that were unique on my bus lot. So when I arrived back at the lot, I cruised around looking at every bus number. Not one other bus number totaled 22. And we have well over a hundred buses on our lot. Surprising? Not in the least.

What's Goin' On

Well, it's been a busy week. This new exercise routine that Carole and I are committed to takes at least three evenings a week. I'm real encouraged by the results so far. I'm up to 50 minutes of lap swimming per session with the goal of doing a full hour each time I jump in the pool. Carole is making great progress on the treadmill, easily exceeding a half-hour per session. We've traded quite a bit of free time for the goal of getting in shape and it's a pretty good trade-off.

My first field trip of the new school year was cancelled due to the extreme Ike weather last Saturday. So I had to wait until today...and I took the Highland Park Middle School girls to a cross-country meet in McKinney. I kinda knew what to expect since a couple of other drivers had tipped me off on HP students: they are extremely polite. This is a quality that drivers seldom see, sadly, in the groups of kids we transport. I know it's easy to stereotype a Highland Park kid with all the money and a privileged upbringing...but I was blown away when one of them got on the bus this morning and said, "Thank you for taking the time to drive our bus today." When we arrived in McKinney and the girls were stepping off the bus, nearly every one thanked me...what an amazing show of kindness!

One of the consequences of going to the gym so often is the impact on my yard work. Whereas I was mowing our front yard every fourth evening, now it's once a week. And I'm not doing near the usual amount of weed-eating and other landscaping chores. Oh, well, as long as the neighbors don't hang me in effigy, I guess I'm safe. I'm truly ready for cold weather to come along and completely shut down this boring routine.

Stalked by the number 222 and it's cousins

It all started soon after Carole and I were married. My new wife noticed that invariably when she awoke in the middle of the night, the alarm clock was at 2:22. It happened so frequently that we thought it might be a noise coming from the clock at that time every night, but we tested the theory and found no sound, just silence. Simultaneously, we began to note that "twos" were flooding our lives from all directions. Carole noticed that her birthday, August 10, is the 222nd day of the year. The assault was on.

Since she was a dental hygienist, it was vitally important to be careful around all the radiation from the x-rays she took. To be on the safe side, she wore a clip that measured the amount of the bad stuff to which she was being subjected. The clip was mailed in and a report would be sent to her. One day a report arrived announcing that she was exposed to 22,222 rads of radiation...enough to turn her green, yea even kill her. It turned out to be a terrible mistake, but there were those numbers again.

When someone on Carole's side of the family published a genealogy book of their family tree, she was very interested. She wondered where in the book her name might be mentioned. We should have known...p.222.

One New Year's Eve, we were driving home from a party in our fairly new car. We noticed the odometer approaching 22,222. When that momentous moment occurred, the time was exactly 2:22 AM.

I could go on. Suffice it to say there have been at least 222 incidents involving the twos. They occur on a daily basis. The occurrences don't connote something bad, usually, so when our first son, Brett, chose his number for the Dallas Christian basketball team, he grabbed 22. A year later, second son Blake couldn't have 22 so he picked 21. And they both had superlative years.

As the incidents mount up, we can't help but wonder what is going on. This is far beyond a matter of coincidence. You may be thinking that I've over-exaggerated the matter and that, say, 47 pops up just as much if we'd pay attention. Nay, nay, my friend.

Carole just walked in the room and reminded me of a relative who had a premature baby that weighed in at 2 lbs, 2 oz. And she was born at 2:22 AM. And so the beat goes on.

"Change"

"Change" is certainly a buzzword during these politically volatile days. I'm kinda tired of hearing it used to represent so many things. But I have an announcement to make: I am in the process of changing. Actually, "we" are in the process of changing. Guess I better explain.

Carole and I had slipped into an all familiar trap in recent months. With our ages creeping steadily and scarily toward 60, we had settled into a very comfortable routine of heading to the couch/recliner after the evening meal, laptops in hand. And for the next 3-4 hours, she would be immersed in her internet world of dolls and blog friends while I would touch base with every aviation website this side of Kitty Hawk. We didn't grow apart or anything like that. In fact, it was kind of an endorsement of our marriage that we could go hours with limited verbal communication.

But the flaw in the slaw of all this was that as we sat there evening after evening, giant globules of fat were seeping out of the seat cushions and onto our formerly svelte bodies. Like moss slowly growing on trees, flab was creeping into the typical, familiar body locales. And this was alarming. We have always been skinny types...Carole has had a model's body forever and I used to run marathons. But the needle on the scale cares little about your history. And it was time to do something.

So I signed us both up to a YMCA membership. I had been mulling this over for a few weeks, but had been waffling back and forth...on M-W-F, I'd be gung-ho, ready to rip. On Tues-Thursday-Saturdays, I'd cave in to the voices of unreason and try to forget about it. But then I finally committed to the idea and tried to convince Carole of the same. She demurred initially but then came on board. So, long story short, we have gotten started.

I'm swimming mostly (with a bit of time in the weight room); Carole is hitting the treadmill (with a bit of time in the pool). So instead of vegetating during prime time and then hitting the sack with that familiar dullness of mind and body, we arrive at 10 PM with a fresh, invigorating tiredness. It feels so good!

Now the tough part...maintaining. It's easy to have energy during the first part of a race. It's also easy to grow tired of the routine. But part of my reason for exposing our new endeavor is the accountability factor. I don't want the three people who read this blog to confront me in a couple of months, asking about the status of my flab, only to have to confess that we've fallen off the wagon.

I'll keep you posted on how we're doing. Whoopee!!

Full Circle

Tucked away in various closets and also in our attic are hundreds of videotapes, each containing 1-3 basketball games involving our two sons. There was only one game in their careers that I didn't tape, an exciting win where Brett hit a 30-ft. jump shot at the horn to steal a victory for Dallas Christian. That still haunts me. It seemed that in the '90's, we were always at basketball games. Maybe that's why that decade seemed to fly by.

Now I find myself going to soccer games featuring my grandchildren, as my sons have started the process of showing up at any athletic event where their kids are involved. We were in attendance at one of Zach's soccer games in San Antonio in the spring, and yesterday we caught 4 year-old Maddie's first-ever athletic event, a soccer game (of course). I came away from the game happy for Maddie, but also extremely impressed with the league. Lake Point Church in Rockwall organized the league and has done a masterful job. Before the game, I noticed Maddie's coach leading her team in prayer.

Seconds later, for the first time in her life, Maddie participated in the traditional team handshake.

Then it was on to the game. She played well for a 4 year-old, given the fact that her league is for ages 4-6. I think she was the youngest player on the field.

At halftime, all of the soccer games (and there were many) stopped for an announcement from Lake Point Church. The guy urged the spectators to cheer for both sides, not just your team, and to treat coaches and referees with dignity and appreciation. Then he said a prayer, a nice touch. All in all, it was a very satisfying experience even though Maddie didn't score a goal. Her time will come.

Cleaning the clutter from my brain...

1. How 'bout Sarah Palin? If McCain wins in November, it could well be that his risky but sensational v-p choice made the difference.

2. Isn't politics messy? I find it distasteful to the max, all the name-calling and chest-thumping.

3. Just can't get any hurricane to leave its remains over my house. They always get close and tease me unmercifully, but then move off to the northeast.

4. My meteorological background asserts that the first cool front arrives on Sept. 21. That's a Sunday this year and it can't get here soon enough.

5. If I had a smooth, green yard, I'd love to play croquet again.

6. I really admire people who can think and speak on their feet.

7. I have a girl on my bus this year named "Asia Pink".

8. Bill O'Reilly is obnoxious. And so is anyone else who interrupts constantly. Aaarrrgghhhh!