Rapunzal's Castle

If you walk into my therapy gym and ask if I tell corny jokes, I'll be the first person to raise my hand. I admit it, I'm no stand-up comedian. Additionally, my sense of humor is somewhat (ok, very) black and dry. Quite unlike the coffee I drink, but that's a whole other blog post... I blame it on my dad the engineer, his time in the military (even though he was out long before I was born, cynicism CAN be inherited), and an entire childhood of both watching M*A*S*H and listening to Aggie jokes.  Seriously, there needs to be a support group for people who have been forced to listen to Aggie jokes... So it's really no surprise that my collection of professional humor is really just corny, recycled one-liners designed to get a quick grin. Many times they contain a point that I'm trying to make to my patient while not sounding nagging. Several that get recycled more than others are "Don't stop breathing on me, bad things happen when you stop breathing" and "Breathing is beneficial. I highly recommend it to all my patients." They usually get the desired effect--the patient who has been holding his breath under the strain of whatever exercise laughs a bit and resumes breathing. This is an important step as I have a record of 10+ years CPR certification that has never been used on anything that can in fact breathe. I do not want to break this record.


Breathing is something I've been thinking about a lot this last week, primarily because it's been such a struggle secondary to a severe sinus infection.  One day my O2 saturation level was even below that of one of my patient's that I was walking down the hall!  After several sleepless nights filled with coughing and labored breathing, I desperately called my doctor and begged for the soonest possible appointment. And, yay for the strong antibiotics and prescription cough medicine, I'm actually sleeping. With the help of Afrin, I'm breathing again too! (and my husband is also glad that I'm no longer tossing and turning as it kept him awake as well.)  Breathing is beneficial. In modern medicine we tend to think of the heart and it's importance to life, but it was actually breath that was chronicled as the start of human life.

Genesis 2:7 "the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." Job affirms his belief of the divine origins of life: "The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life." Job 33:4 Two chapters earlier one of Job's friends addresses not only the physical, but also the spiritual design of God, "But it is the spirit in a man, the breath of the Almighty, that gives him understanding." Job 32:8 (emphasis added on all verses.)

 Breathing. Spiritually, how are you breathing? Are you taking deep breaths and enjoying the sweetness of a God who loves you? Are you free and unrestricted with Him? Or, do you have something obstructing your spiritual lifeline, stopping you from filling your lungs? I'll confess that many times I let the stress of my life interfere and I forget to breathe. I find myself perplexedly gasping for breath and wondering why I feel so winded and weak. Bad things happen when you stop breathing. Instead of running to the Creator and letting Him fill me, I continue with the same, inefficient way of managing even when I know it isn't working.

Question: which is the more important part of breathing, inspiring or expiring? (breathing in or breathing out) The answer may surprise you. It's actually breathing out. When you expel the old, stale air from your lungs your body will automatically take in a nice, deep breath full of fresh air. What are you getting rid of, expelling from your life? Are you holding onto things that are slowly strangling you and preventing an influx of that which is good? For me, there are many things that I hold onto and stubbornly refuse to do what is best. It's not that I don't want to breathe, I just don't place a high priority on it when the truth is that time with my Savior is the most important. Without breath there is no life.

Breathing. It's that important.

Recently I've started seeing a patient who was born deaf. We'll call her Jane. (You'll probably notice that all of my female patients are named 'Jane Doe.' If the story requires naming another one, you'll find Janet, Janine, and Jinny... along with their spouses John, Jim, and James. Just making sure Im observing HIPPA.) She'll tell you that fact and shrug her shoulders, saying in the blurred pronunciations of one who cannot hear her own voice, "I don't know why." For her, communication is obviously something that she has struggled to achieve. She speaks sign language, but few do so she has adapted other skills as well. She reads lips incredibly well as long as the speaker looks directly at her. Imagine trying to learn to speak if never heard a sound, yet she has achieved the ability to make herself understood however cumbersome it may be. She has endured this her entire life and is not bitter or questioning about it at this stage in her life. She is one of the sweetest and happiest residents in the entire facility. Or maybe I'm just biased, but I'm really enjoying working with her.

Today she showed me again what an amazing attitude she has. The facility I work in recruits various types of talents and performers to visit and entertain the residents. Today it was an elderly man armed with a slightly out-of-tune guitar and a repertoire full of comical ballads popular when our residents were much younger. I looked through the crowd and there sat my deaf one, smiling and obviously enjoying herself. A common view from people blessed enough to live in their own homes and take care of themselves is that "I'm not going to a nursing home. Nursing homes are for people who are waiting to die." Jane certainly isn't sitting around waiting to die, she's getting as much as she can from life. Most people won't go to something that they can't fully benefit from, but she participated the best she was able and enjoyed all that she could. And I was humbled.

A couple of weeks ago MSN had a feature on what your car says about you. Originally I wasn't going to put it on the blog, but after re-reading it, I just had to! Maybe I'm clinging to this personna since the death of George and the realization that I probably won't find another BMW in an affordable price range again. My hubby is currently sitting next to me with his laptop researching minivans. Minivans!!! After an agile, fast, fun, performance vehicle! So yes, I think I need to post this and remember the good times before I start crying or something else... Really, I'll be ok.

"In an era when we define ourselves by the type of personal computer we use — we're either a Mac or a PC — those who own a 3-Series are Macs. Like an Apple, the BMW has style, a cultlike following and stellar performance. "They make you feel like you're smart and with it," McManus says. "It's a very well-executed vehicle." By that reasoning, we'd have to consider the owner to be a smart, considerate, yet style-conscious individual."

And the irony is that I'm reading this on a Mac. :)

The Shelton family was sad to learn that a member of their family passed away suddenly. George the Monkey, named by Nathan, was a 1996 BMW 328i who gave out with a rusted frame. This experience is yet another reason why his owners wish the state of Indiana would quit using salt to clear the roads. He is survived by his owners, their children, and their other vehicle, a 1998 truck that Landon named Blacky Wacky. It is hard to tell who will miss him more, his mistress, Kat, or the children who rode safely buckled in back. Kat was very happy with "her baby"  and loved the agile, powerful but yet smooth driving experience. She also loved the feel of the standard transmission and it brought a grin to her face. George handled like a dream and made driving fun again. (Especially after years of driving a Buick Century.) Interstate driving, traffic, and snow were all handled with ease from the precision machine. The boys loved having a "fast car" and constantly begged for the driver to hit the accelerator (of which George would happily do!) Nathan could constantly be heard making shifting noises in the backseat. It was the first time the Shelton family had a vehicle in which the boys would rather ride in instead of the truck. The next vehicle will never be the same as driving George.

RIP George the Monkey, you will be dearly missed.

'Twas the night we bought the bunk beds and all through the house,
Our two little creatures were stirring and I looked for help at my spouse.
Sheets were purchased and placed on the bed
But little boys were too excited to lay down their heads.

Visions of them accidentally rolling out and hitting the floor danced in my head,
Most horrendous thoughts filled me with dread!
My husband, somewhat chuckling over my womanly fear,
Did at least put an arm out and draw me near.

Sounds of jumping and giggling filled the whole bed time,
If you turned for but a second little feet the bed would climb.
We added to our prayers, "Lord, let them not break a bone,"
and when I left the room I closed the door with a groan.

When out from the room their arose such a clatter,
We both jumped from the couch to see what was the matter.
On the floor were a toy car, a teddy bear, a flashlight, and ball,
And two faces grinning from the top said they were enthralled.

With time the newness has worn off and my children survived,
Although there is no way I can say we have arrived,
Now with confidence I can say as I shut off the light,
A peaceful night to all, and to all a good night!

Such were my fears when we purchased the bunk beds for Landon's room! Yes, I know. Paranoid mother. In my defense, I've heard plenty of stories, from everything from broken arms to stitches from "Superman" hitting the ceiling fan when he started flying... Overall, I've gone from "why did I do this?" to "It's great to have an extra bed for company!" And the boys have learned the main rules of "no playing on the bed," "no playing on the bed," and last but not least, "No playing on the bed." Throwing toys off the top bunk qualifies under "no playing on the bed." Landon had to earn the right to sleep on the top bunk, and has learned how to safely, but even with the railing we still wedge some bumpers up there. We're (probably more of the "I" than the "we") grateful that he's usually content to sleep on the bottom. :) Bedtime as a whole is much quieter now that the boys have separate rooms. :)

Dear Mom,
Our scout master told us all write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and worried. We are OK. Only 1 of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Chad when it happened. Oh yes, please call Chad's mother and tell her he is OK. He can't write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search & rescue jeeps. It was neat. We never would have found him in the dark if it hadn't been for the lightning. 

Scoutmaster Webb got mad at Chad for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Chad said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas can will blow up? The wet wood still didn't burn, but one of our tents did. Also some of our clothes. John is going to look weird until his hair grows back. 

We will be home on Saturday if Scoutmaster Webb gets the car fixed. It wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked OK when we left. Scoutmaster Webb said that a car that old you have to expect something to break down; that's probably why he can't get insurance on it. We think it's a neat car. He doesn't care if we get it dirty, and if it's hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the tailgate. It gets pretty hot with 10 people in a car. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrolman stopped and talked to us.
Scoutmaster Webb is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is a good driver. In fact, he is teaching Terry how to drive. But he only lets him drive on the mountain roads where there isn't any traffic. All we ever see up there are logging trucks. 

This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out in the lake. Scoutmaster Webb wouldn't let me because I can't swim and Chad was afraid he would sink because of his cast, so he let us take the canoe across the lake. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood. Scoutmaster Webb isn't crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn't even get mad about the life jackets. 

He has to spend a lot of time working on the car so we are trying not to cause him any trouble. Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Dave dove in the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works. Also Wade and I threw up. Scoutmaster Webb said it probably was just food poisoning from the leftover chicken, he said they got sick that way with the food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and become our scoutmaster. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. 

I have to go now. We are going into town to mail our letters and buy bullets. Don't worry about anything. We are fine.

Love,
Cole

http://www.joke-archives.com/outdoors/campletter.html

This joke is something that my family has laughed about from years. A running joke is, "We're just going into town to buy bullets. Everything's fine!" I wish I could have written something like this. I'm not even halfway creative enough. And while the entire story is far-fetched, I bet we've all known boys to whom this would be a tremendous adventure and wouldn't fathom why their father is taking their mother to the ER with a heart attack.

How many times in our lives do we not see the danger, whether physical or spiritual, in our lives? Like the time my rifle quite literally exploded in my face while I shot it, I am so grateful for a sovereign God who cares enough for His children to protect them. Spiritually, what's your warning system? Who do you have in your life to warn you when you're sitting on the tailgate? Sometimes, just like this letter, we are either too immature to realize the danger we're in, or our caretaker isn't so good at his job, or both. God is never asleep at His post! Thank you, Father!

There's a backpack in my basement. I dont like it. It was on a tremendous after-season sale. It's nice looking: black with gray and red trim, a few pickets to hide things in, and those neat-looking but pointless bungee cords on the front. (Seriously, I've never seen anyone use that feature. Ever.) If I were a kid I would love it. I'm pretty sure that my kid will love it. Therein lies the problem. It's for him to pack his books, crayons, and the like and go to school. I know that Nathan will enjoy both the backpack and going to school. And I'm having a hard time dealing with it.

My friend talked me into buying the backpack on Black Friday because it was only two dollars. She bought the other three for her two children because, apparently, children are pretty tough on backpacks and they break in the middle of the year forcing desperate parents to pay full price for a new one. Not having prior experience in this area, I took her word for it. This will be my first year to send a child to school. Forget him being ready, I don't think that I am.

Thousands of parents across the country are counting the days until school starts again and I act as though I'm sending him to a concentration camp. My sentiments are being very unreasonable, I know that. And it's fun to see them grow and learn new things. But I'm sad that this innocent phase in his life is soon to be over. Soon he'll have homework and after-school activities. His time will be scheduled more by his school day than by family activities. I love coming home for lunch and seeing my boys. I dread not having him there.

Starting school is the end of a wonderful phase of his life but also the beginning of another wonderful one. Truthfully, I wouldn't want him to stay home forever. This is the beginning of his really really growing up, and there's actually a part (small!) that's excited to see what will happen next.

There's a backpack in the basement. I'm dealing with it.