Through the Valley

It has been awhile since I last posted.  There has been so much going on, mostly stressful, so finding time to update has been difficult.  We moved to a new home in June (yay!).  However, we should have moved end of May.  I can't even use the words my realtor chose to describe the situation, but suffice it to say he said it was the worst closing he's seen in twenty years and, unfortunately, completely out of our control.  Not exactly an achievement I wanted.  But that's another (long) story for another day.

Right before that, we found out some other news.  My dad celebrated his 64th birthday in March.  His birthday was also the day he was told his cancer had returned.  Even now, I cannot begin to describe the burst of emotions when my mom told me the news.  He officially has stage 4 pancreatic cancer; this time the cancer had spread to his liver.  It wasn't so much that the cancer had returned.  The hardest part was the doctors essentially telling him to enjoy his remaining time here on earth.

I'm not going to lie.  After the initial shock had warn off and the heartache had set in, my next reaction was one of anger.  Not so much outright anger at God, but anger at the situation.  I mean, aren't there worse people in the world who deserve this cancer?  Why should they be able to live when their actions cause others so much misery?  Why MY dad?  Then it hit me.  Why NOT my dad?  Why not my family?  If maybe by my dad having cancer someone else was being spared so that they too could come to know the Lord that I love.  That also hit home.  Even though I was angry at the situation, wasn't the "situation" placed there by God?  Ouch.  How easily I forget the goodness of God.

Photo Credit: Pinterest

If the last few years of my life have taught me anything about trials, it is that God is good.  Over the last few months in church, my pastor has been preaching a series of messages that seem as if they were written for me.  One of them, a series on Psalm 23, spoke especially to my heart.  There are so many aspects of this psalm that I would love to share, but you can listen to the series here.  I have read this psalm many times and heard many messaged preached on it over the years.  After this series by my pastor, I will never be able to read Psalm 23 the same way again.

Photo credit: Pinterest

Verse four is the one that really grabbed my attention.  "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me."  

I never paid much attention to the word "through" before.  When we walk in the valleys of life, the verse states that we walk through them, we don't dwell in them.  The valley is not a cave or dead-end with no exit.  Wow, what an encouragement!  

I cannot say that I have complete peace about my dad's prognosis, but that peace is growing the more I learn to trust in God.  It saddens me that without a miracle my dad will not be here much longer, but the part that hurts the most is my kids growing up not knowing their grandpa.  Owen may have a few memories, but I don't feel Addyson is old enough to have created those memories with her grandpa.

There are a lot of thoughts that run through my head and I still occasionally find myself crying at random times.  One of the hardest things I have had to do since finding out my dad's prognosis was trying to pick out what might be the last Father's Day card I ever give to my dad.  How do you sum up everything you think and feel for someone over the span of your life and put it into a card?  I found myself crying in the middle of the card aisle in the grocery store while my two kids looked at me like I was nuts.

I sometimes feel so selfish thinking at times more about how it affects me than how this cancer affects my dad.  My dad has been amazing through it all and praises God still.  The Lord has been gracious enough to allow my dad to feel fairly well through the process this time.  He had another round of chemo, which unfortunately did nothing.  He just recently had a procedure done to hopefully slow the growth of the tumor.

We were able to go to the beach with my family in June.  My dad says it was one of the best vacations he's ever had.  If you see the picture below, you can see probably why.  Every single one of those grandkids has their grandpa wrapped around their little fingers--and he wouldn't have it any other way.  And each one of those grandkids is a reminder of how good God is and how God has us in the palm of His loving hand.

Grandpa, Oma, and the grandkids
Photo credit: Kelley Collins

Flourless Peanut Butter Banana Muffins

Recently, I was out having coffee with a friend when she told me about some delicious muffins she had made.  She said the texture and taste was like a regular muffin, but these had no flour.  No flour! I had to make them myself just to see.  She was right!  They are super moist, protein-packed, and definitely yummy.  You could even add some chia seeds for a little more protein.

These are also great to make ahead and just pull out as needed for a delicious, fairly healthy breakfast.  You can customize them to fit your tastes.  Either top with or mix in some of your favorite toppings.  I added chocolate chips as a mix-in, but you could do whatever you wanted.  Some possible mix-ins would be nuts, coconut, blueberries, dried cranberries, whatever suits your taste buds.  Enjoy!

Flourless Peanut Butter Banana Muffins

Ingredients

1 cup creamy peanut butter

2 medium ripe bananas

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

2 tbsp honey (or syrup), more or less to taste

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp apple cider vinegar

optional toppings (chocolate chips / coconut / etc)

Directions

Preheat oven to 400°.  Line cupcake pan with liners or coat with cooking spray.  Blend all ingredients (except toppings) in a food processor.  Stir in mix-ins, unless using as a topping, and pour mixture into muffin cups.  If using toppings, pour mixture from processor into muffin cups and add toppings.  Bake 15 minutes.  Cool in pan for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack.  Serve warm.

Second Home

Many people dream of having a second home, somewhere they look forward to spending time away from home.  We have a "second home," but I do not enjoy being there.  We have met many wonderful people, some of whom have changed our lives for the better.  Our second home is the hospital and we almost made it a year this time since our last visit.  

This last weekend, Owen was admitted to the hospital for the eleventh time, not including NICU.  We started out on Friday the 10th with a few sniffles and a cough. Saturday, knowing he wasn't feeling well and had not eaten supper the night before, we gave him the choice of where to eat for breakfast, hoping to encourage him to eat something.  When we were seated at the restaurant, all he wanted to do was to lie in Travis' lap--not a very Owen thing to do.  We took him home where he started to become a little more tired and lethargic.  By approximately 6:00 that evening, I could see he was beginning to retract, was looking pale, and just the slightest hint of blue was beginning to appear around his lips.  I took him to the children's urgent care nearby, feeling pretty confident already this was going to be an admission.

The urgent care is only five to seven minutes away (compared to 25+ for the ER) and has fewer germs with which he could come in contact.  That is the positive side to going to the urgent care instead of the ER.  The negative is that if he needs admitted, then that means an ambulance.  While he actually somewhat enjoys the ride, I already start adding up the bills in my head.  The ambulance is necessary for transport since I am not authorized to have an oxygen tank in my car.  Much to Owen's dismay we do not speed through the streets of town, lights and siren blazing.

While waiting for the ambulance, we heard a firetruck in the parking lot.  Next thing I know, three firemen come in the door and start to check Owen's vitals and such.  The medics came along a few minutes later.  Owen was a little overwhelmed with all the people in the room, but was more concerned the firemen were there to give him a shot.  Yep, the boy who cannot breathe that well and does not feel well is more concerned over a little shot.  In fact, he asked every person that came in his room while we were there if they were going to give him a shot.

{The firetruck and ambulance that came for Owen--he loved all the lights}

He was loaded up into the ambulance and I hopped in beside him.  About every two minutes he would ask if we were there yet...and every time we slowed down...and every time we stopped.  The medic, whose name was Megan, was great with him and answered him every time.  She tried her best to entertain him with balloon gloves and drawing things for him and getting the other medic to talk over the speaker to Owen.

As we were about to leave the urgent care for the hospital, the nurse practitioner turned to Owen and said, "Well, you are going to your second home."  At this point, hospital stays are somewhat routine, one which we hope will change a little more as he gets older.  Even though it is routine, I would not say it becomes easier.  Part of it is a little bit of frustration in knowing I can care for him most times at home, but do not have access to certain medicines and to oxygen.  It is not easy to watch your child struggling to breathe.  It's not easy sitting in a hospital away from your other child and your husband, knowing the other child wants you just as much as the one you are with.  It's not easy trying to keep a baby/toddler/preschooler in bed and to get them to not touch whatever is attached to them to try to rip everything off.  It's not easy keeping that child occupied and distracted when they are not allowed out of bed.  It's not easy sitting there in a building full of people and feeling alone.

We are very fortunate, however, to have a large group of friends and family whose messages and prayers uplift us, probably more than they will ever know.  We are still blown away by how many people still pray for Owen, which is the best medicine of all.  

One of Owen's favorite toys is a stuffed giraffe given to him during one of his first hospital admissions here after after we moved two hours away.  That small token on the giver's part was received so gratefully by Owen and was very uplifting to us, the parents, as well.  The small things really do matter.

{Getting settled at the hospital with James the giraffe and Sammy the seahorse}

Everyone complains about the sleeping arrangements at a hospital, so I'll spare you that diatribe--with enough lack of sleep, even the uncomfortable arrangements cannot hinder my sleep from coming.  What's hard at night is the constant barrage of people coming in and out of the room all night.  I have learned that I can usually request the nursing assistant to not come in to check blood pressure and temperature through the night.  When I figured that out several admissions ago, I was beyond thrilled and we both sleep much better.  

If Owen is not on continuous nebulizer medicine then that means the respiratory therapist is coming in every two hours during the night.  As he becomes better, the medicine is spaced out to every three hours and eventually to four which is usually when I get to take him home.  Sometimes he is able to sleep through the treatments, but other times he becomes very aggravated.  I would be too if I woke in the middle of the night to some stranger standing over my bed blowing something in my face.  

Thankfully, this stay was a short one.  The doctor teams make their rounds in the mornings.  When the team came in Sunday morning to see him, they told us that he would be going home probably on Monday morning since he was still on oxygen and his treatments weren't every four hours yet.  The attending doctor said unless by some miracle we would not be heading home that day.  Well, we got our miracle thanks to all those prayers.  

Although Owen gets sick quickly, he also heals relatively quickly. Also, with his history of numerous admissions and respiratory illnesses, the medical staff feels comfortable sending him home with me when they would normally keep other children who haven't been hospitalized as many times.  Although even we have referred to the hospital as his second home, it obviously is not and never will feel like home.  We were able to go home about 6:30 in the evening, fewer than twenty-four hours after being admitted.  There truly is no place like home and we are so happy to be here.  

{He was so happy to be able to Skype with his daddy and sister}

{A Child Life volunteer brought him some new toys that had been donated to the hospital--the first big grin on his face in a few days!

{No more oxygen AND he's eating!}

Mary Had a Little...Cold

Well, it's that time of year again...cold and flu season.  In this house, it is a season with more dread to us than to most others.  Due to my son's asthma and premature birth, his lungs are very susceptible to illness and infection.  For over six weeks now, he has already been fighting off various colds and allergies.  

For the first three years, a "simple" cold would be enough to land him in the hospital.  Thankfully, it takes a little more than that now.  Because of this, we tend to take extra precautions and clean hands a little more frequently than most.

Below is a great poem from my son's school handbook that sums up well this season of germ sharing. 

Mary Had a Little Cold

Mary had a little cold, but would not stay at home.

Everywhere that Mary went, the cold was sure to roam.

It wandered into Mollie's eyes and filled them full of tears.

It jumped from there to Bobby's nose and then to Jimmy's ears.

It painted Anna's throat bright red and swelled poor Daniel's head.

Sally had a fever and a cough put Jack to bed.

The moral of this little tale is very quickly said...

Mary could have saved a lot of pain by just one day in bed!