The Day I Waited, But Nobody Came

I had hurried home off the school bus so I could get my Friday afternoon chores done. I was expecting company around 6 p.m. And I wanted to be ready! After all, they would be picking me up for the football game and then who knows what afterwards!

I still hadn't explained to my mother. I wasn't exactly sure she would warm up to the idea of her daughter riding off on the back of a pickup truck with a group of high school girls headed to a football game. But this is the way the sororities did it: if you were accepted into the sorority, they came to your house the Friday night after Rush week, picked you up in a truck along with all the other new girls, and you went to the high school football game together with your new "sisters."

Sounds so collegiate, doesn't it? I was but a high school sophomore in a city loaded with old money and abounding with history. Camden SC to be exact, one of the most beautiful cities I have ever set my eyes upon. Camden....

A city known as the Steeplechase capital of the World. It is the oldest inland city in the state of South Carolina, the site of the worst American defeat of the Revolution. I challenge any of the readers who have never visited this lovely little city to go there, drive through the down town area, and tell me where else you could go and see the plethora of colonial houses that line the streets. Those aren't run down shanties. They are occupied, lovingly restored, Charlestonian inspired mansion styled homes. Not just one street of them. Multiple streets. Christmas time is amazing in the downtown area. And I fell in LOVE with the place when I first moved there as a teenager. With all the history came the equally highbrowed culture, even in high school. I can remember the curriculum guide for the technical school classes (brick laying, drafting, etc) having a disclaimer at the bottom that read something like: If your parents are millionaires, the following classes probably will not interest you. Perhaps they were joking. After all, that was before the days of political correctness. However, I do remember as a student parking beside Jaguars, and there were students that were children of millionaires. So, in the broad scheme of things, sororities were not out of place in a high school like Camden High. To this very day, I have never heard of another high school that had them.

I had moved to Camden from a small town in North Carolina. We lived in a mill village, right across from the cotton mill. The village was made up of quaint little houses, but most of the people didn't take alot of pride in them, leaving the neighborhood looking run down. When my mother remarried and we moved to Camden, I was thrilled to be getting out of the mill village. I was "moving on up" in my opinion!

Now, I didn't particularly love the snobbery that was so evident in Camden, but I, like so many teenagers, wanted to be accepted. As a freshman in high school, the buzz words towards the end of second semester were, "are you going to rush for a sorority next year?"

I wasn't an incredibly popular person. I wanted to be. I craved friendship. Not just attention, but genuine friendship. And I wanted to reciprocate that friendship as well. So, my mind was made up. Even though I thought some of the sorority chics were snobs, I would go to the rush parties (IF I was invited) and HOPE that I could get in one of the three sister societies that would secure what I hoped would be long term friendships.

There were three sororities. Their breakdowns are as follows: Beta Gamma aka, "BG's" - open to the richer kids; Kappa Omega, aka "K O" - open to "good" girls, middle class, not too wild; Gamma Gamma Gamma, aka "Tri Gamma" - open to the WILD girls, some of the rich, even some of the not so rich, but mostly middle class. Of course, that is just my estimation. I'm sure all three were comprised of all sorts of girls!

I loved watching the sorority girls, they all had their shirts with the Greek letters on the front and the sorority name on the back. Girls were given names like "Spaz" or "Wilder." I yearned to be a part of a sisterhood that would accept me, give me a pet name. When my sophomore year rolled around, I received a rush invitation to "K O" and "Tri Gamma." I decided to go to the "K O" rush.

I was so thrilled. I put on my best face when I went to the rush party. I was chipper, even fake. The party was at a HUGE historical home, right up my alley. I left the party that night feeling 100% positive that I would be voted in with "K O." My sister Roni was good friends with one of the sorority sisters, so I felt like I had an inside line.

Friday could not come fast enough. I couldn't even concentrate on my school work. During Geometry, my mind would wander; how would I react when the truck load of "K O" girls pulled up at my door as a token of my acceptance into their sisterhood?? The game and sorority bids were all the talk that day at school. I was beside myself! The bus driver couldn't drive fast enough to get me home!

I hurried up with all my Friday chores. I did everything Mom expected me to do in record speed. I changed into something to wear to the game, and I waited very impatiently for 6 pm to roll around. You see, that was how you found out if you were accepted. There was no letter of acceptance or otherwise. If you were picked up you were in; if you weren't, you were not.

I kept looking out the window. I kept playing the scene in my mind. I knew a few of the "K O" girls, and I could picture us hugging and screaming and laughing. I had not quite worked out the situation with Mom, but I figured I would let my sister Roni tell her once I was gone.

Six o'clock was quickly approaching, and I couldn't keep my face out of the window. Roni kept doing the chores while I kept pulling the blinds apart waiting for my ride. Roni was trying to hide her disgust over my lack of willingness to pitch in with the chores. But there was a look on her face. It was a look of reserve, one that closely resembled pity. And I didn't like it.

She finally spoke up, and it shattered my dreams.

"Rita, do you honestly think that the "K O" girls are gonna come rolling through this trailer park to pick you up???"

I didn't say a word.

I didn't have to.

I didn't look out of the window anymore either.

I had somehow forgotten that socially, I was completely outclassed. I lived in a 12 x 60 tin cracker box, and many of those girls lived in colonial styled homes. Those that didn't live in historical homes lived in respectable homes. For the most part, their houses didn't have wheels.

In my zeal to make friends, I had forgotten that to most teenagers, especially to anyone with even a trace of snobbery, a trailer park was a thing of shame and embarrassment. I was so glad to get out of the mill village, I had forgotten that I lived in a dingy trailer park on the wrong side of town.

I had forgotten that most would fail to see who or what lives in the house. I felt I was as charming and friendly as any of the other girls. I just wanted a chance. But I knew I would never get it because of where I lived. I was even ashamed of it; as soon as my sister had made that comment, I decided that if the "K O" girls did come for me, I wouldn't go to the door. I would pretend I didn't live there.

But, I never had to lie because they never came. I knew Roni never meant to hurt me; she only meant to make me see the folly of my actions. I finally changed out of my super fabulous clothes that were meant to impress the sorority sisters and accepted the fact that I would be spending the evening at home.

I spent the rest of the weekend closed up in my cracker box, hoping and praying that none of my friends would call and tell me they got in a sorority. Sure enough, those that were my close friends spent Friday night at home as well.

I did find out on the following Monday (through Roni's "K O" friend) that I was only one vote short of not making it into the sorority. After three black balls, a candidate is "out." I had two black balls against me, and the last person to vote black balled me. My sister's friend asked her to reconsider, but for whatever reason, she wouldn't.

Admittedly, that news did make me feel a little better. But more than that, it set me on a new path that I continued on through out high school and college. It's a path that has taught me that the colossal historical home can house a vacant individual that offers only judgement and a small tin trailer can hold a person who can offer true friendship.

It's the path that has taught me that it's not the house, but the inhabitant who dwells inside.

Searching for an excuse...

Facebook is not all that time consuming, is it? I mean, how much can it hinder my blog?

Evidently, a great deal. Not to mention home school endeavors that are constantly met with challenges. This poor blog has ended up like a few other of my projects: it started with a bang, and ended with a fizzle.

And I don't want to fail to mention that I have reconnected with friends that I haven't seen for years, all because of Facebook. But I never thought it would take it away from my blog.

What have I been up to? Wow...school, of course. And a few weeks ago, my parents had their birthdays (yes, their birthday is on the SAME day, just two years apart). I made a trip to NC to visit both of them. It was a nice surprise for Mom, and all the daughters were able to be there! We planned a big meal. I enjoyed doing most of the cooking, and I even got to do a little bit of sewing for my sister Sandy. It was so nice to get together for a NON holiday occasion: we didn't have to worry with all the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Not that I don't enjoy that, but for once, we sisters were able to enjoy a long evening of after meal conversation!

Christmas play practice has started at the church, so.... Christmas is now officially just a down hill slide away! I love this time of year. I just hope Iwill be disciplined enough to stop by my blog more and describe the view!

Up Next: The Day I Waited, but Nobody Came...

End of Summer- Family Vacation

The title of this post rings with busy-ness. I've been very negligent of my bloggy, but I promise to be back to a more faithful routine in the fall. So much has gone on this summer, my blog was low on the list!

We had a wonderful vacation this year, and I didn't even get hurt!!! LOL! The weather was heavenly... 75 degrees, and some days it was cooler than that. Chilly nights and mornings, morning fires in the fireplace, brisk mountain air...it was what a vacation was meant to be-rest and relaxation. Bro. Bryson and Mrs. Kim, along with their children, came up to the cabin on Tuesday and Thursday. We had such a great time with them! We are hoping that next year we can book our cabins the same week and have an entire week together.

Here are some photos:

Our Cabin-The Antioch

View of the Antioch from the Frog Pond

The sidewalk I stepped off of last year and tore three ligaments

Fun on the paddle boats

Kevin and I on the hiking trail to High Bethel

Jordan and Savannah stayed way ahead of us on the hike!

Beautiful grove of trees

The bottom sign reads "Bear Sanctuary"

Trying our best to make the hike up to High Bethel

These roots were our "steps" up the side of the mountain!

Our view from the trail

The small opening of trees we crawled out off!

And this is what we saw when we made it to the top!!

The Whitmans were so glad they made it to the top!! Even Shiloh made the hike!

According to this monument, the trail took over 15 years to complete.

Ethan Bryson and Jordan under Schoolhouse Falls

Lovely! But I opted out on this hike!

Evan, Ellison, Jordan, and Savannah behind the Falls

Kevin and Bro. Bryson resting before hiking back to the cabin

The "secret" entrance to the trail to Schoolhouse Falls. There were many trails and waterfalls around our cabin, but we only hiked a couple of them.

A nice fire one morning....it was about 58 degrees that morning.

Savannah walking back from the Chapel/recreation room

We were thrilled about visiting Biltmore!

Someone was nice enough to take our family picture

The outside of the grand staircase

Me and my lovey

View of the back of Biltmore

I loved how these trees and columns were entwined!

Jordy

Savannah

Daniel

Another view of the grand staircase

We drove back to the cabin on the Blue Ridge Parkway

This is why I love western North Carolina!

It was hazy at this altitude, but if you look closely you can see a small village in hallow of the mountains. (center of the picture)

A Time of War Part 2- To Every Thing a Season Chpt. 13

Time-it was something that we wanted more of, yet it was something that we abhorred. We knew our time with Sandra was short, yet more time only meant more suffering. If we could only stop the progression of the cancer just enough to keep her alive...just long enough to see Stephanie's baby....If...If....If....


Our lives were riddled with problems. In the midst of Sandra's illness and surgery to correct the colon blockage, Kevin and I had a huge obstacle to overcome. We suddenly found ourselves without a vehicle.


It was a Monday, January 30, 2006. We had been in Camden the weekend before, and I was doing my Monday run to the bank. The children and I loaded up in the minivan, went to the bank, and headed to the interstate to grab some lunch. We ordered at McDonald's and headed back to our humble little abode, also known as, the Church basement.


It was raining pretty steady, and just as I was about to turn into the Church parking lot, I noticed a red truck sitting in front of the Church. This concerned me just like it would concern anyone else that came home to a strange vehicle in their driveway. I was so caught up in trying to figure out who was in the red truck, I began turning into the Church parking lot without noticing that a car was coming. I was hit nearly head on. I saw the car just moments before impact, but it was too late.


Fortunately, we were unharmed, but the van was totaled. I mean, smashed to pieces. If there were any humor to the story, it would have been the fact that passengers of the vehicle I hit were two lawyers. They were very kind and helpful, and most of all, they didn't sue me for failing to yield the right of way.


But the whole ordeal left us in a quandary. We had to borrow a vehicle to visit my dying mother in law, at least until the insurance and the gap coverage paid off the van. Things weren't impossible, they were just more difficult. We especially didn't want to make Sandra feel like we were being put in a bad spot by coming to visit her every week. The last thing we wanted was to have her feeling guilty about us being there. And a borrowed vehicle would definitely make her feel that way.


The month of January was a whirlwind of events for Sandra. Her stay in the hospital was extended, with friends and family members constantly coming by to see Sandra. There was an overwhelming amount of people visiting her, but at times, it was just too much. It seemed that all of the "friends" thought they were her best friends, therefore trying to "make" Sandra eat just for them. It was frustrating to watch. There were times I just wanted to ask everyone to leave, but I was just a daughter in law-I had no right to do that.


It seems like Sandra's suffering would never end. Once the blockage was addressed, another issue cropped up. This time, we were all bracing ourselves. During all the testing to find her blockage, the doctor's had discovered a blood clot in Sandra's lung. It was sure to be fatal, with little or no warning. Up to this point, the doctors had not told Sandra or us how long she had to live. All we knew was that her cancer was "aggressive." But the news of the blood clot was something that could not be hidden.


One afternoon a couple of days after the blockage surgery, Dr. McElveen (and associate of Dr. Babcock) met us in the hallway outside of Sandra's hospital room wearing the gravest expression on his face. Jackie, Kevin, and I had already decided that we weren't' going to settle for vague answers: we needed to know how long Sandra had.


Dr. McElveen said, "I'm so sorry! It's terribly bad. I'm afraid it's worse than any of us can imagine."


"How long does she have? We need to know," Kevin said in a weak, trembling voice.


"It's hard to say. It's incurable-nothing we can do but make her comfortable."


"We need to know, and we WANT to know," I said, trying to be brave for my husband.


Jackie spoke up and said, "Doc, these are her children. Be straight with us for their sake. How long? It can't be very long, but how long?"


Dr. McElveen looked down and swallowed. "Anywhere from 3 weeks to three months. Six months at the longest, but I don't expect it to be that long. She is very sick. I'm so sorry." Upon those words, he shook our hands and patted our shoulders. I could sense the pity in his eyes, along with the look of helplessness.


As the doctor left us standing in the hallway outside Sandra's room, Kevin turned away and began to sob like a child. His face....oh his face looked just like a tender child who had lost his way in a department store, and his eyes cried deeper than the tears that steamed down his cheeks. It's as if his eyes were saying, "Where's my mommy? Where's my mommy? I need my mommy!" The look was not grief alone; it was pain. All the years of the motherly love and comfort that he had so enjoyed would soon be coming to an end.


One by one, Jackie, Kevin, and I pulled ourselves together so we could go back into Sandra's room. Dr. McElveen had told Sandra about the blood clot in her lung. Sandra's countenance was one of resignation. She informed us that she would like to talk to the children the next day. Stephanie, Kevin, and Jackie had some things they needed to say to Sandra, and she had some things she needed to say to them.

Guilt

Why do we pastor's wives find guilt to be so attractive? It seems the pastor's wife can find a glint of beauty in guilt, making it somewhat of a necessary evil. If you aren't a pastor's wife, you may not understand what I mean. But if you are a PW and still don't know what I mean, let me explain.

The ministry is a wonderful thing, but without exception, every ministry will have trials. We survive them all by the Grace of God but not without wounds and scars. The smallest hiccup in the ministry can cause the pastor's wife to look inward. Even a seasoned PW can experience unhealthy introspect.

How does guilt come into play? Most of the time it isn't because the pastor's wife feels guilty about something, such as a sin she has committed. I'm speaking of a guilt of an entirely different nature.

The guilt I'm speaking of is the guilt that riddles her mind when she feels that she is to blame when in fact she is not. She wants to assume some guilt because if she is the one to blame, then there is at least an explanation to the problems around her. If she is responsible, then perhaps she can do something to change things. Guilt puts the blame on her, instead of someone else. For the PW, taking blame can feel better than placing blame, if for no other reason, for the sake of keeping the peace.

With a matronly nature, a pastor's wife just doesn't like to see things going sour. How many Mom's like to see their kids fight? A PW feels the same way when problems arise in the church; a need to mediate, to equalize, and to make things as they were before quickly ignites. The problem is, rarely can it ever be handled quite that easily. And while most of us PWs know our place when dealing with church troubles and would NEVER step out of bounds, we compartmentalize the entire situation in our mind and allocate guilt to a place where we think it will best act as a salve.

Guilt that comes mostly in the form of, "If I would have just been more Christ like," or "If I had just not said anything," or "If I had just noticed this...." yet knowing deep inside that the situation was no fault of our own. In some very inexplicably dark way, it soothes us. Yet it shouldn't.

If there is one flaw of a pastor's wife that stands out above any other imperfection we may have, it is our constant self mutilation in this area of "was it me?" It's not that the pastor's wife never needs to evaluate herself and see where she stands before her Lord, but the need for a continual autopsy is nonexistent. The Holy Spirit is perfectly capable of showing us our error, and nothing is heavier than the guilt of knowing we have failed our Father in heaven. HE really has something better in mind for the women he has chosen to serve with His faithful men.

Maybe we are prone to feeling and feeding this guilt because of our emotions, but we can't operate off of feelings. It's probably natural to feel this on occasion. But living in this state of mind is torture!

How often do I find a glint of beauty in guilt? I'd love to say 0% of the time, but the truth is, I deal with the thought nearly every time problems arise. I realize that I'm not responsible for every problem our church encounters. I will shoulder any guilt that is rightfully mine, but need I shoulder any other?? I just try to resist the urge to make guilt the necessary evil. How often am I successful? Well, I'm aiming for 100% mark.

All That's Upcoming and All That Has Been

I have been smitten with a touch of laziness.

It's so hard to jump back into something when you've been away from it for so long.

Let's see...I have had a great deal going on...I have a new member of the Whitman family. I got a parakeet for my birthday last week, something I had been wanting for a long time. Sydney is doing quite well, but Shiloh is just a tad bid jealous! As IF anything could ever take his place! I'd like to see Sydney crawling up in our bed at night or getting free run of the house 24/7. Fat chance.

But dogs don't know how to reason, and the poor little pooch looks so threatened.

Kevin also acquired some goldfish. Long story that by reason of boredom needs to be made really short. The three fish that remain are doing good. No names yet. They need not worry. IF they survive, we will never forget them-even if they never have names.

This weekend we have a choir workshop planned. This is great news, but I am very nervous. Bro. Doug Raynes and his daughter Natalie will be coming to help our choir in several areas. Natalie is what I consider a prodigy, so I am obviously very, very nervous. She's not the slightest bit uppity, it's just I know the enormous amount of skill and talent this young lady possesses. Me playing in front of Natalie is kinda like a beggar flaunting a 10 dollar bill in front of a millionaire. Know what I mean??? Anyway, it should prove to be a real blessing to the church and the choir. We are very excited to have the Raynes with us on Saturday.

The following Saturday, the 18th, we will have our monthly youth meeting. We will be having an old friend of ours in for the services, Bro. Brian Enlow. Time and space don't allow me to tell all the stories our families share, but there are many!! I'm so glad for what God has done for Bro. Enlow and his family!

And finally, my family and I should be going on vacation the first week of August. We are so excited, not to mention we greatly need the time away! The pressures of the ministry, Kevin's job, and my health issues....I am really looking forward to the time away. A week in CanaanLand/Lake Toxaway, I am soooo needing it!

I am almost finished with A Time of War Part 2. It will be posted shortly.

Thanks for faithfully stopping by readers!

Prayers

Prayers are so needed at this time.

A family in my Church is going through a very difficult time. Yesterday, one of our ladies found out that she most likely has breast cancer. This determination was made based on an ultrasound and mammogram. She will go for a surgeon consultation on Friday morning.

Also pray for her husband. He is in need of a kidney transplant and is waiting to go on a transplant list. She takes him to his dialysis 3 times a week. The days ahead will be very trying for them, so all that read, please pray for the Cowart Family. They need your prayers. They are a faithful family that has served our local church for many years now. We feel so helpless.....we want to do more to help them. I'm just thankful that prayer is the greatest thing we can possibly do!

I'm glad that God is the Captain of the ship and charts our course, even through the storm.

I have not forgotten

I know it seems that I have, but I have not forgotten about my blog. Really.

I hate to labor the point with multiple updates concerning doctor's appointments, etc. But...that has basically been the hold up.

Frown, frown, frown.....

I have had part 2 of A Time of War partially done for over a week now, I just have to dig deep to mine all the important details.

Fragile smile....

I promise to do better! Especially for all my readers in Alabama and SC...you guys are always visiting! Thank you so much! Sorry to have disappointed you for so long.

Just an FYI. We homeschool year round, so summer isn't to us what it is to everyone else. We will be plugging away until next school year begins. Those dratted surgeries make school tough!

I will be updating and finishing The Seasons Series this week. So, please, please, please, check back later!

Live Well in Your Home

To live well in your home, place 10-15 plants around your home. This will maximize optimum health benefits. Really??? I should have consulted the tag on the flamingo flower houseplant about my health problems looooong ago!

Last night hubby, the kids, and I went to Home Depot and bought some flowers. I only purchased one indoor plant (I've got to find room for all these health maximizers). Here's some pix of what I bought. I was up bright and early this morning, actually before it was ever bright, getting these babies transplanted. I'm leaving the tomato plants to hubby. Those are his pets!!

Preparing to plant on my rickety old planting table, God bless it!!

The Flamingo Flower that will hopefully maximize my well being!!

Planting my favorite flower-Lantana

Lantana-Dallas Red

A Time of War Part 1- To Every Thing a Season Chpt. 13

After our time with Kevin's family, we headed back to Georgia to celebrate Christmas at home. I had been under so much stress and pressure, a normal sinus infection had reduced me to a hollow eyed shell of a person. I was so sick that Kevin and I celebrated Christmas with our kids on Christmas Eve, something completely against our tradition.

Christmas Day fell on a Sunday, but I was so sick I was unable to attend church that day. I had huge plans to bake several cakes, several pies, and our usual Christmas Day finger foods. I didn't have the strength to get out of the bed. Kevin spent Sunday afternoon between services baking and cooking; he wanted to hold true to our tradition! Since we lived at the church, we had invited any and every one to stay after service Sunday night to have some desserts and finger foods.

But I was completely unable to get out of bed. The festivities I so loved couldn't even motivate me. I had been nursing a terrible sinus infection for several weeks, and with all the heath issues, stress, and traveling, I had succumbed to the infection like it was the plague.

I was also heartbroken. With the friends in our church just a few feet away, I laid in the bed-knowing that there were families that were missing that year. The people that had left in July and August weren't part of our Christmas...I didn't like it one bit. My heart yearned for things to be as they had always been, but that would never happen. One of the families that left had always, ALWAYS, purchased gifts for me, Kevin, and our children. It didn't matter how much money they did or didn't have. They ALWAYS gave us gifts. It was a gesture of gratitude that genuinely made me feel loved. It wasn't the gift or the price; it was the thought. As a Pastor's wife, it humbled me and made me happy to know that someone cared enough to go above and beyond. But that special element was missing. And I felt like any thoughts they had of us this year was hopelessly negative.

The New Year rolled around, and after a visit to the doctor, I slowly began to get over the sinus infection. We had talked to Sandra and Jackie a few days after the New Year to see how their Christmas get together with Sandra's family had gone. They all had a wonderful time! Aunt Linda had even said that Sandra seemed so happy that aside from seeing her in a wheelchair, it was as if she had never been sick. In fact, Linda told me that while Sandra was sitting at the dinner table, it wasn't noticeable that she was bound by a wheelchair. Sandra laughed and talked with her mother, brother, and sister-in-law around the table. No one would have ever known how sick she was, and for just one evening, the awful nightmare seemed to be the farthest thing from reality.

With the New Year came more appointments with the oncologist and the spine doctor. Since Sandra's oncologist could arrange local appointments at the county hospital, we didn't have to drive far for her routine appointments. We had arrived in Camden on our usual day-Tuesday. Kevin's employer was very good to him, but he had used all of his personal leave time. Any time taken off of work would be excused under the Family Medical Leave Act, but it would be without pay. Even though we didn't have a house payment at the time, it made things difficult for us. A cut in income was hard to sustain, but we wanted to be at as many appointments as possible.

We took Sandra to the hospital on Thursday to see Dr. Babcock. He had prescribed several medications for Sandra, all of which had to be regulated and adjusted from time to time. Jackie and I helped Sandra get on the examination table. She had difficulty laying flat on her back, so she sat up until the doctor came in room.

As he began the examination, she gingerly laid back on the table. The primary concern was her inability to walk. The radiation treatments on her spine were completed, and the next step was more therapy, including hydrotherapy. Dr. Babcock raised and lowered Sandra's legs one at a time. With her right leg in the air at a 45 degree angle, he moved her right foot toward her head. Her foot began to twitch uncontrollably. Dr. Babcock referred to this as clonus, an involuntary muscle contraction that could be caused from spinal cord damage or worse, a neurological problem.

Jackie and I stepped out of the examination area and spoke with Dr. Babcock.

"That's not a good sign, sir," said the doctor. He explained that even though the cancer was gone from her spine, there could be damage that would keep her from walking. The only remedy, if that were the case, would be another surgery. Jackie cringed at the words...there was no way Sandra would consent to another surgery. And all of us knew how devastating it would be for Sandra to learn that without surgery, she would never walk. Jackie decided almost immediately to keep this news from Sandra.

The doctor did adjust her pain medication. It seemed that Sandra was constantly nauseated and unable to eat. He determined that her pain medicine was too strong. But in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if the real source of the problem was the mass that had been found on her gal bladder that had not yet been addressed.

Sandra's nausea had become worse. She had no appetite, which worried us all. She would occasionally ask for potato soup. I would try to make it as quickly as possible, but she usually could not wait the 45 minutes it took to make it. She would moan and cry because of the pain in her stomach. I felt so guilty for not having her soup ready in a shorter amount of time. I felt so powerless to help her and meet her needs.

As the month of January passed by, Sandra's needs outgrew her help. Jackie decided to hire a nurse for the evening shift. The need for 24 hour care was evident. It signaled a steady decline in Sandra's condition. She was inevitable getting worse.

Even with 24 hour care, Sandra couldn't maintain a level of comfort. She had begun to throw up after every meal,even if she only ate a small amount. Not only was she vomiting every time she ate, she had also stopped having bowel movements. After only a few days of being unable to digest her food, she was admitted to her local hospital to be evaluated.

Sandra spent several weeks in the hospital. There were constant x-rays, CT scans, and bloodwork. Sometimes x-rays were taken twice a day. Sandra grew weary of all the testing; it seemed that none of her issues were being resolved by subjecting herself to all the needles and cold CT tables. She began to act very rude towards the nurses and orderlies. We tried our best to encourage her to behave, but she was tired of the endless testing.

One afternoon I was alone with Sandra at the hospital. Jackie had to work, and Kevin and the children had to go to his mother's house to get some much needed rest. Sandra was having a great deal of abdominal pain. We knew it was stemming from whatever was preventing her from holding down any food. While I was trying to give Sandra some water, she began to cry out in pain. It was obvious how much pain she was feeling, for her cry was one of terror. I frantically buzzed for the nurse. I'm not sure the nurses station could hear me talk; Sandra's sobbing cries surely drowned out the sound of my voice.

Her cry sounded like a person being tortured, and torture it was to hear it! I grabbed her hands and said, "Call on God, Sandra. Call on Jesus Christ!"

As I said those words, a CNA came running into the room. I fell on my knees beside Sandra's hospital bed and began to pray fervently for God to help Sandra. She cried out, "Oh, Jesus, please....please help me.....I can't take this God.....please stop this pain....Oh, God....I need you!"

I felt the CNA whizzing around me, trying to get pain meds pumped into Sandra's IV. I tried to stay out of her way, but once I felt the nurse whiz by me again, I sprang to my feet. I leaned over Sandra, kissing her forehead and praying aloud that God would touch her body. Sandra's body shuddered as she sobbed. I tried to embrace her, to calm her shaking body.

Soon there was a couple of nurses in there, regulating the pain medication. Her pain subsided, and her sobs morphed into a soft whimper. Less than 15 minutes later, Sandra was pain free and resting.

With all the testing that had been done, it was determined that Sandra had a blockage that was causing the vomiting. We consulted with a surgeon, Dr. Gill. To correct the problem, surgery would be absolutely necessary.

Linda B. knew Dr. Gill very well. She assured the family that he was a competent surgeon. The surgery was performed within a day. The family anxiously awaited any news Dr. Gill would have for us.

Sandra came through the surgery fine, but the news was anything but good. Dr. Gill found the blockage: a large mass that was restricting her colon from doing it's work. Knowing the futility of removing the mass, Dr. Gill left the tumor. He simply "rearranged" her colon so that the mass wouldn't cause a blockage.

This troubled Kevin and me. Surely it would have been better to remove it. But Linda B. told us about her conversation with Dr. Gill. He said, "Everything I saw was bad. Nothing was good. Cancer was everywhere." We tried to absorb the shock of such tragic news. All of us knew her time was very limited, but Sandra didn't know that. Not yet.

Dressed up Ready for a Date!

Rita was anticipating a big date with her hubby. Dressed up, spiffied up, ready to go to Athens. So while Rita was waiting on Kevin, Savannah took some pixs.