Don's Surgery

Not much time to post. Don had his sinus surgery today. We were up until 2:30 a.m. cleaning and preparing, then back up at 7:30 to prepare and clean.

He's having a lot of pain and was in recovery for 2 hours. He's having to wear a sling under his nose to catch the blood and is, basically, miserable. We had to be there by 10 this morning and didn't get home until almost 4 and I'm just spent.

I have to set the alarm and give him his pain medicine every 4 hours round the clock, so I'm going to head to bed. He's sleeping in the recliner in the living room, if he manages to sleep at all.

I'll post more when I'm a little less tired and way less stressed.

Happy Ending

"I declare the Games of the XXIX Olympiad closed . . . " My heart dropped.

I've loved this Olympics, maybe more than any of the others I've watched diligently over the years. In 1972, we were in Belgium during the Olympics. That was the year of ongoing controversy for the Olympics. It included the massacre of 11 Israeli athletes, the gold medals in basketball going to Russia in the most controversial game of any Olympics before or since (the American team to this day has refused to accept the silver medals the IOC attempted to award them), two American runners being disciplined for their lack of respect on the gold and silver platforms during the playing of their (our) National Anthem, and several other ongoing problems. It was also the year the world was introduced to Olga Korbut and Mark Spitz won his 7 Golds in swimming, which remained an Olympic record until this year's run by Michael Phelps.

The young people on our military base (S.H.A.P.E. Headquarters) in Mons, Belgium, gathered around a small t.v. set in the Teen Club. There was not even a square inch of space on the floor and we spilled out the door and into the large hallway. Some of us couldn't even see the television set, but we could hear the Commentator. We all watched (or listened) in rapt silence as Spitz and Korbut made history. One of the American gymnasts was a friend of one of the girls who went to school with us, so we faithfully watched every bit of gymnastics coverage and celebrated each victory together. The events bonded us all to each other even more and gave us yet another thing in common - we were AMERICANS, after all.

I was 11 years old and those Games are ingrained on my memory. Since then, I've been a faithful follower of the Olympics. By the time the next Olympics rolled around, my oldest sister was married to a California boy whose brother was an alternate on the Olympic wrestling team. In 1980, the amazing American win in Ice Hockey captivated the whole world. The Goalie, Jim Craig, lost his father to cancer during the Olympics (I think that was the story - it's hard now to remember) and his team's rise to Gold was dedicated to their friend as he postponed his grieving to accomplish the impossible. I watched every second.

Yes, I'm a believer in the Olympics. In the closing coverage last night, Chris somebody (an NBC Football commentator) said that for two weeks every two years, there is no division between countries. We all come together in one place, put our differences aside, and choose sportsmanship over petty gripes. And it's true. The Olympics are energy. They're electric. You can feel the tenseness, the joy, the complete surrender as you watch. You're swept away in the flood of emotion and all the problems of the world melt away as American pride replaces all else.

Deanna asked me at the beginning of this Olympics why I love them so much.

"Because the Olympics are magic," I told her. When one eyebrow went up, I tried to explain further.

"Things happen during the Olympics that could never happen anywhere else. And if you're not watching, you'll miss it!" I don't think she understood until Nastia Liukin took the all-around Gold in Gymnastics. Over the 18 days of coverage, I watched as the Olympics grabbed Deanna's spirit. She's 11 now - the same age I was when I realized the potential of the Olympics.

This morning, we're watching a DVD Don made of some of the events we missed. Right now, a Men's Volleyball match (U.S. vs. Brazil, who we eventually beat for the Gold) is playing and she's watching. After Michael Phelps finished his 8th race in first place, I ran into her bedroom to give her the news. She had been in bed for 2 hours, but was wide awake. She couldn't sleep, waiting to see if he would accomplish his goal. I let her come back into the Den for the after-race pandemonium - both on TV and in our house.

We'll be watching these DVD's for a long time to come and remembering the excitement that is the Olympics. About the time they get old, it'll be February, 2010 and we'll be able to see the next Winter Games.

Despite the excitement and the performance of our U.S. Teams, my heart was heavy as the President of the IOC, Jacques Rogge, declared the Olympics closed last night. Time to get back to real life.

I just hope the lessons of selflessness, unfaltering bravery, tirelessly working towards a goal will remain with my family for a long time to come. And the memory of past Olympics will live on.

Men and Boys, especially Hunts

We had some errands to run yesterday, including returning some items to Sears purchased from Land's End on-line. I figured I could return them to any department, so we parked in the nearest parking space to what I thought was Customer Service, and ran in. Turns out, either I had the wrong store or they've moved Customer Service. I walked into the Tool Department.

I bravely approached a cash register and asked the middle-aged man working nearby if we could do Returns there or if we had to go to a clothing department. He said he'd be happy to take them.

While he was processing the Return, I asked the children to run over and check prices on deck umbrellas. Ours was a casualty of the last bad storm. They ran off to look, then I heard Dane exclaim, "Mama, LOOK!" I looked in the general direction he was pointing and couldn't figure out what held such rapt interest. All I could see was a collection of tools in a rack against the back wall.

"What, son? What are you looking at?"

"The HATCHETS!" he nearly bellowed at me. One eyebrow went up on the man behind the counter.

"Yes? What about them?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"You could buy me one! Just think of all the things I could do with a hatchet." He was absolutely bubbling over with anticipation. The other eyebrow went up on the salesman.

In my minds eye, I saw Daelyn, armless. Next in front of my eyes flashed a picture of a tattered deck, torn apart by a hatchet. Other pictures flooded to my mind - a treeless yard, a bashed-in back door, holes in the yard . . . you get the idea. A hatchet DID NOT sound like a great idea to me.

My response was swift. "I don't think so, son." Although my tone said "Period", my words must have not been clear, because he asked again.

"But, Mama, I could really use a hatchet."

With a firmer tone, I responded, "NO, son," then glanced sideways at the saleman. He looked away.

About that time, Deanna walked back up with news of deck umbrellas. Without me even noticing, Dane disappeared. The man continued the transaction while Deanna and I discussed umbrella prices and what stores might have the best deal this time of year.

"Mama," Dane's voice again - oh, no, "do you know how much the cheapest hatchet is?"

"No, Dane, and I don't care," I tried to sound stern, although the truth is, I can't blame him. He is a boy, afterall.

"But it's only $6.22!"

"It doesn't matter. You're not getting a hatchet. They're far too dangerous!"

Just as I dared a peek at the saleman again, Dane remarked loudly, "OH, HECK! You won't buy me a gun and now you won't buy me a hatchet!"

My eyes grew big around and my mouth dropped a little. The salesman finally broke and cracked up laughing. I just shook my head.

When Dane saw him laugh, he went into a long explanation. "Mama wants to buy me a B.B. gun . . . "

"and targets for him to shoot at in the backyard . . . " I interjected.

"Yeah. But she's not allowed to in our neighborhood."

"Not to shoot squirrels!" I pointed out.

Deanna squeezed a few words in edgewise, "The first thing Grandpa told him was that he could go up to his house and shoot squirrels!"

"Oh, good GRIEF!" My voice got loud. "No hatchets. And no guns. Not at the ripe old age of 9!"

By this point, I didn't even care what the saleman thought. Then he spoke.

"Do you have your credit card with you, Ma'am? I'll just put this back on your card. By the way, he's all boy, isn't he?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Yes, that he is."

And very much like his Grandpa, I thought to myself.

Dane's ENT Appointment

Dane had his appointment with the ENT tomorrow. He laughed when I told him we brought Dane to him to keep it all in the family. Before the end of the visit, he told me he needs to see Dane back in two weeks. I go back to see him next week. I almost suggested that we just schedule a weekly appointment and then we'd send whoever needed to see him the most.

Although the topic was very serious, I did get a kick out of him. He asked me what the CT Scan looked like before he looked at it, then asked me to interpret it, which I thought was pretty funny. Then he handed me his stethoscope and asked me to see his next three patients. I jokingly told him that everything I know is because he taught me.

The long and the short of it was summed up quite well by Daelyn: "Well," he said as we walked to the car, "looks like Brother's on the path to surgery." We're not there yet and hoping to not need surgery in the years to come, but Dane's case doesn't look real promising. He's on a liquid steroid, a strong antibiotic, a steroid nasal spray, a sinus rinse, another decongestant nasal spray, and an inhaled steroid for his lungs, which were infected. The doctor didn't even numb his nose and look up it with the scope - just glancing with the naked eye up Dane's nose, he could see it was full of puss. GROSS! But I expected as much.

His sinuses are pretty intensely infected and he's been feeling pretty bad for a very long time. Several times over the last week, he's stopped while walking and complained of his chest hurting and had to rest before continuing.

The doctor said that he fully expects Dane to completely recover from this episode but, based on his condition, he probably has inherited mine and Don's sinus problems and we may be back in this place again in the future. He said I should anticipate that he may need surgery at some point down the road to cure the problem completely. We'll do everything possible to stave off that eventuality and pray hard for total healing.

Part of the issue for us is that Augusta has been officially declared the second worst city in the country for allergies. The children's allergist told us this a couple of years ago and, apparently, there was a recent news story about this exact statistic. It seems it's not just her opinion, but a factual piece of information, one we would prefer to not know, but it does explain a few things. I guess if we continue to live in Augusta, we can expect sinus problems - - unless God chooses to heal us all.

We'll continue to pray and ask and hope for that healing - - while living in Augusta and while believing God has called us here. He must have a plan for our health. We just haven't yet seen it.

P.S. Kelly, is you read this, when are you coming home? We sure can't wait to see you and the boys.

Reagan MaKenzie Hunt

This is my nephew, Chad, with his new baby girl. He's reading to her, letting her hear Daddy's voice so she knows he's near. They can't hold her because of the tubes, but they stroke her little limbs and chest and face and talk to her.

She's improving. My sister-in-law asked one of the Neo-Natal ICU nurses about her chances and they told her that once the baby reaches this point, there's a 90% chance of recovery.

Here's another picture of our little darling. Notice the pink bow. She opens her eyes when her mommy and daddy talk to her, unless she's just too tired and needs a nap. I just can't wait to hold her.



On another front, we heard from Dane's Pediatrician this morning. They're referring him to my ENT, Dr. Harmon. His sinuses looked pretty bad which, of course, I already knew. Don downloaded his CT last night and we looked at it closely, explaining to Dane what it meant. Dane seemed less than interested. He liked looking at his skeleton, but the sinuses were insignificant to him.

I asked Don what he thought.

"Well," he said, "he's not near as bad as you, but he's way worse than me."

My Head Aches!

I'm getting really tired of these headaches. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't pound from sun-up to sundown. I was hoping that meant I was through with the headaches. No such luck. I'm going to go lie down and see if I can't take the edge off it.

Dane has been sick for weeks. When we took him to West Virginia for his week with his grandparents, we ended up bringing him home with us because he was coughing and we weren't sure if he was on the way to getting sicker.

After our return, we took him to the Pediatrician, who said he thought it was just a cold, but gave us a prescription for antibiotic - just in case. He got worse so, about a week and a half later, we filled the prescription and started him on Amoxycillin (the weakest of the antibiotics - this is where our Pediatrician always starts). After a week of antibiotic, he was worse (does this sound familiar? Anyone? Anyone?) so I scheduled him to see the Pediatrician again last Monday. I was still recovering from my surgery and really couldn't leave the house, so Don took him in. They changed the antibiotic to a much stronger one but he continued to worsen. By Friday, he was coughing horribly, deeply, and the coughing was waking him at night. We called the Pediatrician's office and they scheduled him for a CT Scan of his sinuses and a lung X-ray today if he wasn't better.

I took him for his tests this morning (you guessed it - he's not better). Deanna watched Daelyn in a secure waiting room for me while I went back with Dane. I was afraid the noise of the CT would scare him and wanted to stay with him. After they got him positioned, the technician and I stepped through a doorway into the Control Room. There were two computer screens. I watched carefully as she programmed the test, then watched the results on the screen.

NOT GOOD NEWS! Although we haven't yet heard anything from a doctor, I've gotten pretty good at reading CT scans between Don's and mine. Dane's frontal sinuses (the same ones that prompted my surgery) looked pretty bad. They were full of infection. His ethnoids (the ones that Don's struggling with and having surgery on next week) have infection. There was some black in these, but definite infection. All the other sinuses had some black but lots of infection - not near as bad as my first CT, but definitely not clear, either. It'll be interesting to see how Dr. Miller proceeds.

I got a copy of his Scan on CD in case they refer him to an ENT, the same procedure I used. And I decided that if they do refer him, he's either going to the doc Don sees or the one who operated on me. Let's keep it all in the family. As Don asked his doctor, "Do you give a volume discount? Two for the price of one?"

We did manage to turn our day around, though, despite my headache. After his tests, we took a picture I had printed in color on plain paper of Dane with Donovan to Kinko's. We had put a caption on the bottom - A Dog and His Boy. It's a great picture that I took of the two this morning before we left. Anyway, we took it to Kinko's, had it put on glossy photo paper and blown up to an 11 X 17, then laminated it with heavy lamination. It looks wonderful. It's Dane's Christmas present to Donovan - a placemat with their picture on it.

Dane only has one Christmas present left to make. Over the weekend, he made a plaque for Don out of fuse beads that says, "World's Best Dad". He did the background in purple which is Don's favorite color. He made block letters and did them in black, then used purple beads to make two hangers on the top. We then added a magnet on the back and curled some wire, looping it through the hangers and adding some curls to make it look more attractive. It really looks great, and Dane is very pleased with his work.

After Kinko's, I took the kids to Logan's Roadhouse for lunch. From his side of our booth, Dane could see the Lobby TV and announced that basketball was on. I looked into the kitchen and saw a parking lot monitor. When the waitress came by, we asked her if she could change channels. The kids practiced throwing peanuts in the air and catching them in their mouths. Dane got pretty good. We had a very fun time.

Only two more weeks of summer vacation. What am I going to do when the children go back to school. I'm already missing them, thinking about it. But we've had a wonderful summer, spent lots of time together, and enjoyed the heck out of each other. This is the kind of summer I wish we had every year.

Minus, of course, the hospitalizations and surgeries.

Post Op Visit

Had my post-op appointment yesterday. Although things went fine, the doctor didn't quite release me, which came as a surprise to me. No bending, no lifting, no reaching for at least 2 more weeks. Apparently, this surgery takes about 6 weeks to fully recover. Wonder why nobody mentioned that earlier.

The doctor told me that he had come to see me in Post Op and asked me if I remembered. I didn't. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty fuzzy about the whole day from the point the nurse said in the O.R., "We need to lower her stretcher a little more to get it even with the table." I don't know how they got me on the table. I certainly have no memory of moving.

The nurses also told me about conversations I had with them prior to me being aware of my surroundings again, so it seems I was able to talk and process info, just not remember it later. Anyway, the doctor told me that when he came to see me in Post Op, he said, "It's a BOY!" He went on to say that he uses that same joke after every sinus surgery he does. The nurses roll their eyes. Even if it was funny the first time they heard it, after the hundredth, it's lost any semblance of humor, according to the doctor.

"Did I laugh?" I asked him.

"No," he responded.

"I guess I didn't think it was funny, either," I told him. Truth is, I was so groggy, it's doubtful I even heard him. He grinned at me.

I'm still having headaches. When I asked him how long they'd last, he said, "I have no idea. Every patient is different and responds to anesthesia differently. I can't tell you how long it may take for you to get your strength back or get rid of the headaches. It'll take as long as it takes." That was when he broke the news to me that my REAL recovery time was 6 weeks.

I am more energetic. I've made dinner the last three nights and done breakfasts and lunches for the children. Tonight I began tackling the laundry. But I spend a good many hours each day just sitting, which is unusual for me. I almost never sit in the course of a day. I just am pooped and can't stand for very long. The house needs dusting again. I have no idea how everything gets so dusty so fast.

In general, however, I'm coming along just fine. For the next two weeks, I'll be daily flushing my sinuses, debriding all the junk left behind from surgery. I'll see the doctor again the day before Don's sinus surgery. What a way to end the summer.

I do have an urgent prayer request, though. My nephew, the one who lives in Alabama and was married the beginning of April - his wife had an emergency C-Section yesterday. The baby was in distress. It seems she had passed some miconium and breathed it into her lungs.

She was taken (my newest great-niece's name is Reagan Hunt) immediately into Intensive Care. Later in the afternoon, she was transferred to another hospital in Montgomery, Alabama and, at 3 a.m. today, they Medivaced her, by helicopter, to Birmingham to Children's Hospital, where they have a Neo-Natal ICU. She's fighting for her life at the ripe old age of 1 day.

I made arrangements today to take my mother to Birmingham so we could be near the baby. My nephew's wife, Rachel, is recovering from the trauma of an emergency Section and Chad needs to be with her. No one is with the baby. One day old, fighting for her life, and all alone. It breaks my heart.

So, I made plans, worked it out with Don and cleared my calendar. I made the decision that if any roadblocks were put in my path, I'd trust it was the Lord stopping me from going. Everything seemed to be lining up. Although me driving my mother to Alabama wasn't exactly the ideal, I didn't see any other options and couldn't stand the thought of that baby being alone. I called my mother to tell her I could drive her and she said that she didn't think she should go. Roadblock. She said that Rachel is expecting to get out of the hospital tomorrow and she, Chad, my sister-in-law, and Rachel's mother are going to drive together to Birmingham. Reagan needs her mommy and Rachel needs her daughter. The doctors want Rachel to breastfeed and are doing everything possible to make that happen, so my mother feels that her place is here, praying.

I was a little relieved, yet feel a huge burden. Please pray for Reagan, Chad and Rachel, and my brother and his wife. Their first grandbaby and going through such a difficult time.

I'm signing off for now. I'm tired (gee, big surprise) and want to rest on the couch, drink some hot tea, and watch the Olympics. Maybe it'll take my mind off that little baby.

Is that High Hopes I hear crashing?

I woke up this morning at 10 a.m., still drowsy, and dozed on and off until about 10:30. I have a weekly prayer commitment at 11 a.m. on Saturdays that I was determined to keep this week - I've had to trade off many so far this summer. I grabbed a quick breakfast and began my prayers. By about 11:40, I realized I was dozing again and not being faithful to pray.

I called to Don and explained to him that I was having difficulty and asked if he could finish off my commitment. He laid next to me on the bed and began, silently.

Me: "Honey, could you please read aloud so I can pray along with you?"

I'm not sure if he did or not. I awoke around 1:30 with stomach cramps.

It took everything I could muster to put one foot in front of the other and head to the bathroom. My legs feel like jelly and the rest of my body like the doughnut around the jelly. All I want to do is crawl back in bed and sleep for a day or two.

I haven't had any pain medicine at all today. This drowsiness must still just be the effects of anesthesia. The more I sleep, the more I want to sleep. Everytime I wake, briefly, I think I'm going to get a burst of energy. Not so far.

I just re-read my post from last night. No mail being sorted today. No Christmas wrapping getting done. Not even any visiting with the children. Other than Donovan snuggling up next to me periodically, my day has been about sleep, sleep, sleep.

Speaking of sleep . . .

Recovery

An hour of pre-op, 1 1/2 hours of surgery, 3 hours of post-operative recovery, 48 hours of complete bedrest, and 10 days of slowly improving and we should be ready to do it all over again with Don.

The doctor called today to check on me, interestingly enough at the moment I felt the best throughout the whole day. The majority of the day was rough - I was very nauseated, had a bad headache, and kept spitting up blood. I finally tried a Phenergan suppository with my pain medication, slept for several hours, and woke feeling better.

The children and Don have been amazing. Just when I think to myself that I need something, Don will appear at my side to check on me. He's been intuitive and sweet, the intuitive part something that I seldom see in him. The children have been very quiet. Most of the time, it feels like no one's in the house, they're so quiet. Then I'll wake up to find one snuggled next to me in the bed or hovering quietly over me, checking to make sure Mommy's still alright. They've been unbelievably sweet and gentle, helpful and noiseless.

Last night, Dane baked two batches of peanut butter cookies, taking one dozen to my father and proudly presenting the rest to the family (he snuck two into my bedroom so I could taste). This morning, I asked him if he would like to try his hand at bread (from a mix . . . in the bread-maker, but, still . . . ). I found Sweet Hawaiian mixes on clearance at Kroger several months ago and decided that would be the perfect accompaniment tonight for the Cream of Potato Soup I made before surgery for the family's dinner tonight. I carefully explained to Dane how to put the yeast at the bottom of the pan, then the dry mix and, last, the water and how to set the timer so the bread would be ready, hot from the oven, right at dinner time.

He was very proud of his loaf of bread, which was delicious. Don, however, vetoed my Potato Soup in favor of finishing the Basil (home-dried from last year's garden), Sun-dried tomatoes (home-dried from my garden last year), and feta cheese quiche I made earlier in the week. There was still almost a whole pie left and he wanted to finish it off before tackling the foods I made for post-op recovery.

I'm so pleased with the children's cooking and baking progress this summer. Deanna, out of necessity because I've been so sick, has made dinner about once a week. At the beginning of the summer, I'd have to repeat every instruction six, seven times and she'd disappear after every stage. I'd have to track her down repeatedly to keep her on task. Now, she's become so much more comfortable in the kitchen and needs only one pass on directions. And Dane volunteered to make my scrambled eggs for breakfast this morning.

Me: "Honey, it's 11 a.m., I'm nauseated, and I haven't had anything to eat yet. I think putting something on my stomach would help."

Don: "Okay. What would you like?"

Me: "I don't know. Just something. I need to eat. Can you just make me something?"

Don: "How about some scrambled eggs and a piece of toast."

Me: "That sounds wonderful, but can you make the eggs light and fluffy instead of rubbery, the way you usually make your eggs?"

Dane: "I CAN make your eggs, Mommy. I know how you get them light and fluffy. Let ME make your breakfast."

Me: "Are you sure you can handle it? Cracking the eggs into the pan and all?"

Dane: "Yep. I know how to do it, Mommy."

And, sure enough, he did. Just enough salt, light, fluffy, and delicious.

I'm recovering slowly, sleeping tons. Inbetween, I've been working with Dane on wrapping his Christmas presents and a few of mine. Our goal is to have all the children's Christmas presents made and wrapped before school starts again after Labor Day. As of this morning, we had 15 of Dane's finished presents to wrap and two more to be made. In the process of wrapping, we discovered that he had two presents for the same person and was missing the present for his Aunt and Uncle in Colorado. So he still has 3 to make - and 10 more to wrap. But we're making progress. Only three left to make - the goal is attainable.

Deanna's progress lags a little further behind. Earlier this week, before surgery, we wrapped 11 of her presents, but she still has a good many to make. And we haven't even begun to work on Daelyn's list. He has several presents made, but we haven't yet decided who will get his creations and he sure doesn't seem very interested in working on his gifts. Christmas must just still be too far away for him. He doesn't have any vision at all for giving presents to his family members. Maybe he's still just too young.

We've gotten a lot of cleaning done in the house. The problem is keeping it clean. Wednesday night, in preparation for my surgery Thursday, I had our bathroom spotless and the children worked tirelessly on the dining room and living room, which both were immaculate. By last night, when I stumbled out of the bedroom to refill my drink in the kitchen, I was surprised at how messy the dining room table had gotten. Don is not an advocate of neatness and doesn't really see the same messes I see. He just seems to look past it all. So keeping the house clean means cleaning it, then training my children AND their father to pick up behind themselves to keep it clean.

Don's trying. He's got more on his hands than most people, taking care of the children for me and making sure he's on hand to help me. And he's working on straightening other areas of the house. Often, in order to clean, things get messier for a while.

I'm headed back to bed, fading fast (can you tell - my writing seems to be going downhill fast). Don's gone ahead of me, so it should be nice and quiet in the house.

I'm hoping to have a little more energy tomorrow. Perhaps I can get some of the old mail that keeps piling up in my basket cleaned out.

I want to take advantage of this down-time to get some long-awaited projects finished. Here's hoping.

New Doc on Board

I saw my doctor yesterday for my long-awaited appointment and assessment. He did a CT Scan, which looked surprisingly good. Based on that, he moved me from the Emergency Surgery list to the Urgent Surgery list and scheduled me for this Thursday, with one glitch.

Because of my blood clotting disorders, he referred me to a Hematologist, who I saw today. The final decision whether or not it was safe to operate he left to the Blood Specialist.

After a VERY long visit with the Hematologist (who refuted practically everything I've ever been told about my blood disorder), he had a conference call with my ENT. They decided to proceed with surgery, although I am at risk somewhat for blood clots. He also put me on the injectable form of blood thinner I had to take while pregnant with Daelyn. I will have to take it starting tonight and up till the day of surgery, then discontinue for 2 days and restart for another week.

He also had some concerns whether or not my doctors actually read my previous test results accurately. He is running a full gamet of tests on me himself. He took 16 vials of blood. The Lab Tech came into the room with two handfuls of vials and his supervisor who asked if I'd be alright having that much blood drawn. She brought me a Coke to drink while he worked on filling the vials, which took a good while.

So, I now have a Hematologist and am facing surgery Thursday morning. The recovery time is supposed to be one week, but a friend told me today that her mother had the same surgery several months ago and it took her two weeks. I guess we'll see - soon.

I've got to go make the bed. Washing sheets, dusting, trying to get my bedroom and bathroom REALLY clean so I can recover from surgery without breathing in dust. Don tried to go to bed and our sheets and comforter are in the dryer, so I better get to work.

Lots to do to prepare.

Liberty Oak

We got home from Hilton Head late Friday night and spent the day yesterday unpacking and trying to put order back in our home after Mommy being hospitalized for 3 days just prior to a week-long vacation.

In retrospect, our week was a lot of fun. Although I didn't get to spend a lot of time at the beach, there were lots of other things that happened. I was concerned about making sure the children enjoyed their vacation, and I think they did.

They took several trips to the beach and spent one afternoon at the pool. On the way home, we stopped at the Tanger Factory Outlet stores and got all three of them their winter wardrobes (excluding school uniforms, that is). We went to the Harry and David store and Dane managed to find bags of Truffles marked 50% off, so we bought two. I don't think most 9-yr. olds even know what Truffles are, but mine goes hunting for them in gourmet food stores.

We went out to Nick's Steak and Seafood one night. Deanna ordered fish and chips (she hasn't had any REAL fish and chips since we left England, and this was pretty authentic), Dane got his shrimp scampi (his absolute favorite food that he very seldom gets), and Don and I had nice steaks. We watched movies together and the children played cards with Grandma and Grandpa. Dane whomped everybody. Deanna made dinner one night for us - Mock Chicken Cordon Bleu with wild rice and fresh corn-on-the-cob. It was delicious and I was very proud of how accomplished she's gotten in the kitchen this summer.

Don took the children on several bike rides. I took them on one and went along with the whole family on another. We all went together to the Activities Center and had a air hockey tournament - Mommy RULES! - and played some ping-pong and feusball (did I spell that right?) . . . a very fun time.

Grandma and Grandpa decided to join us for our hour-long sales presentation. I always sign up for these - they give away good stuff. This year we got two checks for $50 - one for my in-laws and one for us to pay for gas and $100 in island cash that we used for dinner. We also got several other items, including two RCI bonus weeks. While sitting in a small room at a table with nothing to do while your parents are listening to a salesman may not seem like much fun to most children, they had a cappucino machine and I let each of the children have a cup of coffee. They thought they were really something, sitting at a round cafe table drinking latte's and cappucino.

I also talked Don and Grandpa into taking them to Harbor Town for the live entertainment under the old Oak Tree. If you don't know about this, look it up and plan it into your Hilton Head vacation - Greg Russell under the Liberty Oak. This same guy has been entertaining children six nights a week throughout the summer months for about 25 years now. I once heard the story of his beginnings, which is also very interesting, but I won't take the time here to tell about it.

Everyone had a wonderful time. Grandpa thanked me for encouraging them to go and commented that it was much better than he had expected. The children came home singing all kinds of new, goofy songs. Deanna told me one story that I loved. Greg's strength is his ability to play off the children that gather to listen to him. Children are spontaneous and have few inhibitions, and he's an expert at working that to his advantage.

Over the years, they've built a small, wooden-decking stage under the oak and set up benches for parents. The children all sit on the stage at Greg's feet. He uses wireless microphones and the tree is lit up with lighting, several spotlights trained on him. He strums the guitar and teaches the kids silly songs like "Is that a buger in the sugar?" and "Are we there yet?" and intersperses talking with the children. Deanna says there was one really cute little boy on stage. Greg asked him how old he was.

"Twee," the little guy responded. Greg loved that and made several jokes. According to Deanna, he informed the little guy that he was going to teach him how to say, "Three". In his efforts to help the child pronunciate, he pointed at the beautiful live oak tree overhead.

"What do you call that thing?" he asked.

The boy looked up at the tree, then looked back and Greg and responded, "Lights!"

By the way, I called the doctor yesterday. My headache has returned, I'm coughing up yellow again, and I have sharp pain in my nose when I cough. The doctor phoned in an antibiotic prescription for me and recommended I keep my appointment on Monday morning, which I fully intended to do anyway. I didn't get to sleep last night until sometime after 4:30 a.m. - the last time I looked longingly at the clock. It's not looking good for postponing the surgery until after school starts, so I'm trying to get all the laundry done and several meals cooked, just in case.

I could use a few special prayers. Don has worsened since coming home, also, and refilled, yet again, his antibiotic prescription. I don't know how he'll be able to hold out until August 27 for his sinus surgery. He's miserable.

Apparently our dog missed us pretty badly. He's been stuck to me like glue since we picked him up. Yesterday, I went outside to talk to Don who was mowing the lawn and Donovan got really shook up. By the time I came back in, he was crying at the back door for me. Pitiful.

But the children seem happier than I've seen them in a long time. I sure wish we had summer twice a year. They've needed this time with me and each other, and the vacation was a really good thing for them. Deanna, who's the least physical affectionate of my children, stopped me in the kitchen yesterday and asked if I'd give her a big hug. I was delightfully surprised.

So, life continues at the Doughty house. And we continue to pray for God's healing hand. We sure need it.

Lord, send your healing. Pour it over us like a drenching rain. Our spirits are parched and wounded and we need your hand upon us . . . like mercy drops falling from Heaven.