There are no accidents...

I've been wanting to write about this a long time. In the midst of all my relief, happiness, and blessings, the reality check comes. It comes hard and fast and when it's not expected. It comes in the blink of a teary eye. I see an email note that tells me little Madeline McConnell is gone, snatched from her beautiful family, a family I barely know. I never met Miss M in person, only through little pictures on my computer screen. Yet Jeff and I sit staring helplessly at the monitor, tears streaming down my face, silent, Miss M's round mug peering out atop a busy bee costume. Not much cuter than that, to be honest. Not much in the whole world.
I'll retrace my steps. Madeline's Mommy is my dear friend Amy from college. Amy was an enigma to me, because she was one of the first devout Catholics I had ever known in my life. If I knew any, I wasn't aware of it. Amy hung her rosary on her maple bedpost in her dorm room in Case Hall. She actually prayed it when we weren't bothering her with our petty dumb freshman college drama or worrying about our dates or our hair. She didn't get sucked into all that. In hindsight, I realize it's probably because she prayed her rosary. She was captive by a bunch of protestants and non-believers, including me, who didn't have a clue. One of my funniest memories is of my sweet Baptist roommate, noticing the rosary on the bedpost, exclaiming, "What a pretty necklace Amy, how come you never wear it?" But none of us ever actually asked to learn how, or why, or simply join in. Amy was undoubtedly praying her butt off for all of us hopeless waifs, but never let on. Her beautiful humility was intact and she probably knew her prayers would be answered in some way, whether it helped us convert or not. It would help someone somewhere.
Fast forward 20+ years. Facebook connects me and my friend Amy. She's got a wonderful husband and three handsome little sons...and expecting a daughter with Down syndrome. I have one of those daughters, so I was more than happy to share with her that our daughter with DS is amazing, beautiful, the only one in the family who doesn't have a disability. But I knew Amy and her boys would just have to find that out themselves. And did they ever! Madeline was, well, the star of the show. Gorgeous beyond belief. Full of spunk and fight, which she needed for her laundry list of health problems including her little heart that needed all kinds of fixing. Ending up with a trach tube was the last of her major obstacles. At about sixteen months old she had the world by the tail, and as far as we humans could tell, things would get "normal" at some point. Until the trach tube came out. One minute Maddie is playing, the next she's not, and there was no warning, no sound, no message.
No one can "explain" how these things happen. It happens all the time though. But one thing is for certain- there are no accidents when it comes to death and judgement. God knows when and why and how the beginnings and endings of our lives occur. We certainly don't understand it though, and even more certainly aren't happy about it. Amy's pain must be excruciating. I've prayed and prayed, asking God to take care of her, to comfort and console, give her peace. The sorrow is hers. Maddie's little baptized pure soul is so dear to God; she must be even more beautiful in His presence, no worries. No more doctors and checkups, no trach tube mishaps, no midnight runs to the hospital. Things are infinitely better for her now, whether we can fully appreciate that or not. Meanwhile, Amy will "get it." I know she will, because He doesn't abandon those who love Him. He will not lead the McConnells to something then not lead them through it. He will bring about some great good, somewhere, somehow. Amy has already endured and conquered more than she ever dreamed she could...and this is no different. Meanwhile I will pray that Amy redoubles her efforts, finds a way to pass on this huge amount of knowledge she now has, of which most of us aren't privy, that she can await with love and patience the day she will see Maddie again. She needs to know this friend indeed is praying and doing penance for her, and she is remembered every time I pray my rosary. Rest in peace, little Madeline, and live in peace, Amy.

Talking about Jessica...

It's been one of those weird kind of springs, full of highs and lows and normalcy all jumbled into a rush of minutes and hours and days that simply won't slow down. On May 20th, after weeks of intense suffering, beautiful wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, and friend Jessica Lichtsteiner-Hosking lost her mortal life to cystic fibrosis. The fact that the disease had taken its toll in recent years, and the knowledge that it was inevitable that the CF would eventually kill her doesn't really make it any easier. Faithful folks say that knowing you are going to die is a blessing, a grace, because it allows you to become closer to God in preparation for death and judgement. I have no doubt this is true, and find comfort in that. And our Faith encourages us to be hopeful, all the while praying for the dying and the dead, that their souls may be together with God in eternity, and eventually we may be reunited with our mothers and fathers and friends there too...It's the human factor that is the hard part. We are people who live in groups- beginning with our own family unit and radiating outward to our schoolmates, relatives, coworkers, parish members, and communities. And though Jessica, who lived a whole 27 years, was not part of my daily life lately, I have so many memories of her, and to self-soothe my own heart I wanted to write about her.
Jessica was the oldest of eight beautiful children born to two of the most beautiful people I know. Talk about do anything for anybody- it's an amazing bunch. I met Jessica when she was perhaps 10 or 11, but she was one of those children with big doe-brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles and sunny brown locks of hair- the genuine smile of someone who just means it. I taught her in school from the sixth grade on, pretty much all her science classes. I think I may be correct in saying those were her favorite classes as well, because she always had a penchant for anything science. It was no surprise to me that she went into a medical profession when she became a respiratory therapist.
She was always polite and kind-hearted; she called me "Mrs. Lampe" until the last time I saw her several weeks ago. I know she was her mother's helper always, but not because her mom "made" her do it, but because she was part of the family and wanted to help. Back in the fall she came into school to watch my daughter and some other little ones for a couple of hours while we taught class. It doesn't sound all that taxing, but she came in looking thin as a rail, on antibiotics and oxygen, obviously tired, but willing. Her attitude was one of resignation but it wasn't depressed or sad. It was realistic yet hopeful. Her smiling brown eyes and huge grin said it all.
The night she died, I was actually out on the trails out back, running as hard as I could. I knew through the grapevine that it was probably her last day on earth. I was striding along, and I was crying for her, for her suffering, for the suffering of her sisters and brothers, her friends, her parents, her husband and tiny daughter who would only know her mother by photos and stories. I would go from elation in knowing that her suffering on earth would soon end, hoping in her redemption, to bitterness that God chose to take her now and leave everyone behind to miss her and feel that vacuum wherever she had been before. I felt a piece of agony with her parents who had cooperated with God in bringing her here, only to see her leave forever, and thought that my heart would break.
As I ran along, I started climbing hills and sucking in air, gasping in the strain of it, and I felt a part of Jessica's torture. I felt that sensation of gasping, needing that oxygen, and I offered it up to God for Jessica alone. The hard part was that when I stopped I could get that oxygen. I could stop and take a deep deep breath and feel it fill me and save me. Jessica could do no such thing. And I so wished I could run over there and give it to her myself and say "here, I brought you some air! Take it! Fill yourself up with it!" And I knew I couldn't do that, but I just wished I could. So I was running along crying by myself in the woods, sobbing over loss and change and pain, not so much for me, but for good people, wishing it didn't have to be so. Because I know what happens. We all keep going. We move on and on and on and on. People come and go, we start thinking about school and bills and what to do with the car problems, what movie to watch, what shoes to buy. We meet new people and love them, people we love move away. And maybe that's the only way we could all possibly survive losses like that.
I hope Jessica's husband and family know she was loved and admired and will not soon be forgotten, lost in the runaway train that is life here on earth. I for one will say hello to her often and say a little prayer for her while I'm at it. Her humble life will sit quietly with us all, and memories of her will patiently hold us over until we see her again, God willing. Rest in peace, Jessica.

Sweet Summer...

Where is the summer going? June was a wash, mainly because Chief (our puppy) caught parvo, and he required round the clock care for about 2 weeks. I was in class for a week, the boys were off wrestling for a week. It just disappeared. John has turned sixteen and gotten his permit, Dominic turned twelve, and Ang will soon be 3. Our high school 25 year reunion is around the corner. Hard to believe how fast time goes.
Angela will "age out" of her First Steps early intervention program when she turns three in August. It's a little traumatic only because she's had THE BEST team of therapists as our safety net to keep us helping her grow- we will soon be on our own! We chose not to send her to public preschool; I realize that there are aspects of that which would benefit her greatly, but I see more benefits with her being with her family, who love her and want her to do well more than anyone else could. So I'll be signing her up for Down Syndrome of Louisville's playgroups for her age, where they have a very capable DI teacher doing preschool stuff with them. She can go twice a week, and I'll go with her. I also need to get her going to a private speech therapist weekly. Her speech has seen a lot of improvement the past couple of weeks- let's pray it continues! She had her last therapy session this week with her Developmental Interventionist, Sarah. Sarah is moving to China with her family in August, and she is going to work with children in a school and orphanage there while her husband does his doctoral work and teaches school. It's kind of a neat course of life, since Sarah's little boy she adopted is from China! It was extremely sad for me to see her leaving the house, knowing she won't be back to see little miss Angela like she has been doing for some two years now. AND, she was a great inspiration for me to follow her into the world of being a DI. We will miss Sarah. Thankfully, I will at some point in the next couple of years be actually working with Angie's other therapists as a colleague when I become a DI, so I know I'll see them often, which is a real blessing.
Do you like the chicken pictures? Rita and Maria like the chickens a lot, and they are kind of nice animals outside of being smelly. We had two broody hens this spring and have seven little chicks now- too cute. Pray they are hens so their lives may be spared! ;-)

Jeff Update...

Nothing too exciting, but they took the stitch out (it's been stitched shut since April 24 to heal up) and everything looks really good. The doctor seemed pleased with the progress and told us to go ahead and make an appointment with the ocularist (the lady who makes eye prosthetics)so he can get an eye in there. He also wants to go ahead and fix the eyelid (it's droopy and has been for years)so it will sit more naturally for him. Apparently they take some fascia out of his leg (yet more harvesting of pieces from other parts of his body. Interesting.)and create a "sling" with it to his brow bone, so his lid won't sag. Jeff is always so hesitant for things like that; he feels really selfish doing something for cosmetic purposes, but the doctors act like they really want to do it and want Jeff to be happy with their work...also an interesting perspective. If the $$ turns out okay we will go ahead with it. I think it will be okay. I found out the prosthetic eye could be as much as $2600, but sometimes when there is no insurance to cover things like that they will make deals, so let's pray for deals! I hate to use the phrase "Jeff deserves it" but that's kind of how I feel. In the big scheme of things, we really deserve nothing. Every good thing is a gift, nothing should be expected. But Jeff endures a lot, and I think we would all agree that living with no front teeth and a funky eye that everyone looks at could be wearisome. I was complaining the other day about a couple of blemishes on my face (yes, the 43 year old with pimples AND wrinkles. Lovely.) and he just laughed at me and told me I was beautiful regardless, and I'm thinking "yea right..." But then I realized that I think Jeff is as handsome as the day I met him, no teeth and funky eye and all, and I believed him. When you're married for so long and you find yourself MORE in love, it's pure bliss. We're so on the same plane right now and it's so amazing and secure and beautiful, right in the heart, in the gut. I can't even put it into words actually. Tomorrow is our 21st anniversary too, and I've now known Jeff for 25 years, more than half my life. Crazy huh?

The 'Eyes' have it...

Just in case there is one human who reads this, Jeff is doing okay after his surgery yesterday. As usual for Jeff, it's never as easy as it seems and this one was practically as crummy as his original evisceration eight years ago. But the hard part is done anyway, and he now has a fancy new dermal-fat graft from his tummy inside his empty eyeball. Yummy, huh? The surgery ended up being longer and more difficult than originally planned. Apparently the old implant in his eyeball (made of a material that was rough-surfaced) had not only eroded away the tissue that enclosed it, but it was stuck to the tissue in other areas. So getting the old implant out was tough and bloody. His head is sore and swollen. But the Docs thought everything went really well and he's on his way now. His eye will be sewn shut awhile and in a few weeks we'll worry about getting his prosthesis in. The old one probably won't work but it could. He also needs some work on his eyelid. He's a brave and good man, he is. He never complains or whines about it. And most of us would be tired of people staring, and never looking the same, or like ourselves. Jeff just goes with it. Deo Gratias.

Of tests and surgeries...

Okay. So I am looking into grad school, with the intent to work on my Master of Education and Interdisciplinary Early Childhood Education Certificate so I can be a Developmental Interventionist for wee ones with Down Syndrome. (What a MOUTHFUL!) Therefore, I realized I would need to take the Graduate Record Exam. In short, it stinks. I took it yesterday after very little studying and scraped my way through several hours of torture including word analogies and antonyms, reading comprehension, two essays, and math problems. I did finish with above-average scores, but it is my observation that the very essence of the test is not to test actual knowledge, but how well you take a test. Basically every question is a trick question. At $140 a pop it most surely is a money making scheme. The good news is that I can take it several more times this year if I want to improve my score. Yea, right.
Now I have to figure out how to fund grad school. Or maybe I ought to go into the standardized testing business and become a millionaire. Sounds good to me.

Onto other more important issues. Jeff's fake eye has been steadily getting more irritated, goopy, droopy, and generally gross. He finally broke down and went to have it checked out. Apparently the fake "eyeball" that is back in the socket (not the cap that "looks" like an eye) has worn through the flesh that encloses it. And apparently that is because of a general defect in the material from which it is made. The Dr. said they have seen a lot of this with this brand of prosthetic,, folks coming in years later with the thing wearing through. So, Jeff will have to get a whole new prosthetic ball in there. That entails pulling the old one out, re-wrapping tissue around it, possibly getting some extra from his abdomen, then placing the new tissue-wrapped ball back in the socket. Gross. Then, he will have to possibly get a new anterior cap if the old one doesn't fit anymore (which cost $1000 back in '01) and get some work done on his eyelid that has become saggy. Of course, he loves all of that. The good news is that it's fixable and he won't have to deal with a perpetually runny, gross eye. Jeff's always very patient with that kind of stuff but I know it must get old. People stare at it and wonder why his eye is droopy and runny. I close one eye a lot when I'm doing things just to see what Jeff's world is like; it lets me not forget. Please pray for his good soul.

Oh, if you're wondering about the hand x-ray, take note of the pinky. That's Jeff's more recent mishap where he chopped the end of it off when he smashed it in a trailer hitch here in the driveway. It looks fine now, just a tad shorter! ;-)

the facebook frenzy...

This facebook thing is rather fun. In a matter of a couple of weeks I have reconnected with a dozen or more people from my ever so distant past. A few observations:
1. The majority of my classmates I am meeting on fb are liberal. It is painfully apparent that I am WAY more conservative than I ever thought I could be. What a difference 25 years makes!!
2. No one has big families. I LOVE having a big family. I guess we never take vacations and don't live in a McMansion, nor do we drive new vehicles (Jeff and I have a pact never to drive a vehicle which was manufactured in the decade in which we are living!!), and we rarely go out to eat or to movies. But the exchange is PRICELESS.
3. Everyone is everywhere. I wish we loved our hometown enough to stay in it. Greenhills was tremendous. I was way too cool to actually STAY there. That being said, I love Kentucky. It's more me than Cincy is. I'm pretty much a redneck.
4. The diversity of our GH class is so interesting. We are all rather well-educated I think. They did a fair job in that department!
5. I need to get off this computer and get to work. Laundry waits for no (wo)man. God bless anyone who actually reads this banter! ;-)