Losing Ellery

Well, as I sit here recovering from the grogginess--general anesthesia yesterday, dozing in and out of sleep all morning--I pause to capture a few emotions.  The nurse yesterday told me the anesthesia would be in my system for at least 24 hours, and that I shouldn't drive, cook, operate machinery, or make any important life or financial decisions during that time.  The last one made me smile.  Does getting on the computer to post emotions to the world on a blog count?!

At any rate, here they are--groggy, confused, and "under the influence"--but this is what I'm thinking about on this day.

This D&C was the first I've had performed under general anesthesia.  In some ways, it is much easier, emotionally, that way. Well, at least during the "during"...

The natural miscarriage that was our first one--at thirteen weeks--was really horrible.  There was lots of bleeding (as in "you might as well just sit on the toilet" bleeding) and excruciating pain (as in "this feels just like labor, but I don't get the joy of a baby at the end of it so it is even worse" pain).  We had been taken aback by that first miscarriage--shocked, really--because I had never had any trouble before.  The kids and we were so excited about the baby, and we were all pretty devastated when it died.  We called that baby Jordan.

The next miscarriage was my first D&C, and it was actually two procedures since they didn't get all the tissue out the first time.  I was awake for these procedures--and the barbaric nature of it all is in your face as you listen to the grinding motor of the suction machine, wince under the pain of the scraping and poking going on inside you, hear the sounds of the "uterine contents" that is your baby make its way into the jar attached to the machine.  It really does seem like something out of early last century; you'd think this technology would have progressed beyond blind scraping and sucking with a machine that looks like something you'd use to blow up your air mattress.  Anyway, this is different from the natural miscarriage that lasts days in your home, but still emotionally difficult as well as physically uncomfortable, and you tend to cry all the way through it, too.  Nurses and doctors who want to be compassionate but who do this all the time give you small smiles of pity, and you just want to crawl away somewhere and bawl.  But you put on a brave face and assure them you're fine, and yes, they can keep going.  We called this baby Eden.  

My third miscarriage was, mercifully, more like a very heavy period, just six weeks along, a mere two weeks past the positive pregnancy test.  By three-in-a-row, you're getting a little jaded and numb anyway, so it was nice to have this baby leave us in a little less emotional way.  By this time, I began to realize that I was dealing with the pain of the loss separate from the procedure of the miscarriage itself... it was more of a lengthy, philosophical journey of "processing" and pain and prayer and tears.  Saying goodbye to little babies you'll never meet is difficult business...this one we called Carlan.

Our fourth miscarriage ended with another D&C; that time, like this one, my body was not getting the hint that the baby had died and that all this pregnancy stuff it was growing was not needed.  The moment the machine started up--though it had been years since the last one--all the emotions of the past D&Cs returned, and I relived the loss of all our babies even as I had to listen to them "remove" this one.  It is tricky stuff, trusting God in the pain of our lives, receiving His will when it seems so out of sync with what you think you would prefer.  This fourth little life was relinquished a couple of years ago now, at a little over ten weeks along.  That child we named Quinn.

For a couple of years after this, I did not conceive.  I had begun blogging by then, and was processing a lot of the emotions of these losses onscreen.  I find it therapeutic, having to capture all the myriad of thoughts and emotions into some sort of coherent thing that I can come back to and read.  I remember my 41st birthday being particularly difficult, as I faced the reality that my advancing age may, in fact, rob us of the joy of another child born into our family.

And so now, at age 43, we say goodbye to another baby.  I've really processed the emotion of this loss over the past several weeks, and so by the time I got to surgery yesterday--this time under general anesthesia--the goodbyes of my heart had been said, the tears shed.  It was rather a perfunctory-feeling thing yesterday, since they put me under and I woke up with it all over.  No bleeding and pain, no grinding machine, no reminders of what was happening to me and to a little baby-who-would-never-be, at least on this earth.

And so I sit, a little groggy and a little sore, with a little spotting, toying with letting the tears which tickle the corners of my eyes, come... but not so sure I want to cry anymore.  I remember one particular morning, a few weeks ago, when iivo and I just sat and wept--both of us--as we read the poem I'd written as I wrestled with letting another little one go before its time.  The goodbyes were really processed then, and the nature of this miscarriage really allowed the event itself to pass without emotional fanfare.  I embrace the part of that that is a mercy and respite, and yet I mourn the part of that that maybe doesn't mark it pointedly enough.  Your departure from us, little Ellery, is just as bittersweet to us as those of your lost brothers and sisters were.  And we are sad that it is now fully completed.

We release you to the One who loves you more than we ever could have, even if we had gotten to hold you in our arms and mentor you through this world with all the love we could muster.  We look forward to meeting you one day.  

Brand New Day

I found these lyrics on my friend Heidi's blog, and the song has set me thinking on so many levels. I've so much wanted to blog during these last weeks, but I haven't known what to say, how to capture any of what I'm feeling...

Heidi is one of the sweetest, strongest, most real and honest people I know, and I have been blessed by the privilege of knowing her as she walks through both the agonizing pain and the unspeakable joy of life--embracing both, equally, and walking with the Lord through all of it. She allows the emotions to come--all of them--and then rides them with a grace and grit that hearkens to the raw integrity of the psalmist. She's not afraid of questions; nor of fury; nor of exhausted, angry tears and upraised fists. But she also holds fast to the little girl, snuggling deep into the bosom she's just pounded and resting there until the peace and calm come. She is amazing.

I always want to read her words when I'm facing the pain of loss. She indirectly grants me permission to grieve, to cry, to rage... but all the while she points me to God, and to a certain knowledge of His sovereign hand in all things, even the painful ones.

And so, as I face the reality of surgery on Tuesday and walk through the emotions of the loss of yet another baby, I wanted to bask in the joys of Heidi's new baby, the presence of whom is being documented on her blog. Heidi brings to all she writes a deep faith and hope in God, the kind that only comes by having walked through deep pain with Him and having made it to the other side...

I had never heard of the song or the artist, but I love them. They whisper of the hope and joy and peace and trust that are always on the other side... and not just on the other side, but right in the middle of it all, too...

God is good, and these bittersweet days He gives us here, with all their joy and pain, are such a gift.

Some kind of magic
Happens late at night
When the moon smiles down at me
And bathes me in its light

I fell asleep beneath you
In the tall blades of grass
When I woke the world was new
I never had to ask

It's a brand new day
The sun is shining
It's a brand new day
For the first time in such a long long time
I know, I'll be OK

Most kind of stories
Save the best part for last
And most stories have a hero who finds
You make your past your past
Yeah you make your past your past

It's a brand new day
The sun is shining
It's a brand new day
For the first time in such a long long time
I know, I'll be OK

This cycle never ends
You gotta fall in order to mend

It's a brand new day
It's a brand new day
For the first time in such a long long time
I know, I'll be OK

Scary trip to the outhouse...

The quote from EV, regarding this drawing she found by her sister EL: "Does anyone else find this disturbing?!"

Some of the best things are discovered quite by accident...

Well, I have had a third request for the secret to making what have come to be known as "strange-boiled eggs." Since each request has come from someone who was asking because this is "absolutely the only way my child will eat an egg, period," I figure maybe we're onto something worth sharing.

We discovered these quite by accident one day.

I was cooking eggs to go with breakfast while my husband's family was visiting. My family had been reading the delightful story Red Sails to Capri as a family read-aloud, and the soft-boiled eggs which one of the main characters had consumed every morning of his life for many years had been intriguing to us, since we had never eaten one.

So, I was going for soft-boiled--strictly by the timer in the cookbook since I don't know Senora Pagano's soft-boiled egg song--and I called to my husband for a taste test to be sure it was done. I had pulled it out just at the right time, peeled it quickly and easily thanks to the baking soda, and handed it to him.

Perfect.

Yet the few seconds all this "call, peel, and taste" took was apparently enough to take my eggs from "soft-boiled" to something else no longer soft-boiled, but not quite hard-boiled, either.

I was disappointed--and more than a little embarrassed--to be serving these strange things to my house guests. But my children were thrilled. Only one of the four enjoys soft-boiled eggs, and none of them are too thrilled with the hard-boiled variety. My nephew is the one who dubbed them "strange-boiled," and he proceeded to eat the first egg he'd eaten in its entirety in his life.

I spent the next several weeks trying to get the formula right, in order to re-capture the correct consistency to the final product. My kids choked down a lot of soft-boiled eggs, and we consumed a ton of hard-boiled-eggs-turned-egg-salad, in the pursuit of this elusive formula.

I present it to you now, for your family's enjoyment. If you have a child who won't eat eggs, at least give these a whirl. He may surprise you.

"Strange-Boiled" Eggs recipe on the recipe blog, Sharing Recipes

This Sunday we join our Gulf Coast brethren...

...in their united cry to God for assistance in time of disaster.

I am struck by the official governmental declarations of days of prayer in Alabama, Mississippi, Texas, and Louisiana. This is despite--indeed, perhaps in stark contrast to--the current "politically incorrect" status that public, state-endorsed prayer has come to occupy.


I am pleased and proud that these men have chosen to acknowledge the past benefit and blessings of a collective cry to God for assistance, aid, and intervention in crisis. "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land" (2 Chronicles 7:14).


I am also struck, and deeply humbled, but my relative lack of concern for my fellow Americans who are experiencing hardship. Sure, I know about the BP oil disaster, and have lamented with the best of them about what a tragedy it is and what damage it is doing, but have I really prayed with them, for them?


Have I really connected with--and prayed for--those suffering from the devastating floods in Nashville? I have a cousin whose newly-renovated home was overrun with several feet of water, and yet I've remained blissfully disconnected after the initial burst of compassion has worn thin.

How easy it is, in the relative comfort of our small spheres of experience, to forget the wide-scale suffering of those around the country and the world!

Oh, Lord, open my eyes to the needs of those around me, both near and far away. May I be a woman of prayer who faithfully lifts up the cares and concerns of my fellow sojourners. Broaden my perspective away from this small life, to the bigger picture of the world around me. And grant that all of us may have Your eternal perspective, and that we may dwell in the hope that is ours through Christ.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance... Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him" James 1:2-3, 12.

"We will praise Him even in that pain..."

Goodbye

I really hate this stage of things,
the one where I go numbly through
and hover between
grief
and trust.
I pray with your siblings –
assurance of Sovereignty and all that –
and try to talk myself into it, too.

I’m taken aback by the sting
every once in a while
and I blink away the pain
as it trickles down my cheeks,
finding rivulets run deep
from too many lost lifetimes.

I send you with a name,
(we always choose a name),
so that you will know
what we might have called you
had He not needed you now.
Why now?

Actually, though, we would have chosen
something different
to call you
had we known you.
“Unisex name.”
The category in the baby name book
for stolen lives.
lost loves.
Why again?

He has known you
from the foundations of the world,
while I didn’t get even one day
to say hello.

He’s a better parent than I, you know.
And you will know Him better than I,
sooner than I,
deeper than I.

That is good.
Bittersweet good.

Little one I never met,
I miss you anyway.
One day, when all ache is gone,
we will embrace
and know.

© 2010 Laurie Sitterding
-----------------------------

I process emotional things in poetry. Such is the way of things for me.

Today I got news of an "empty sack." It wasn't there on the ultrasound monitor two weeks ago, but there it was today, bigger than life.

Strange saying, that: "Bigger than life."

At any rate, this sack is apparently "empty," void of life. My body has yet to get the news, it seems. It is still going strong, doing its part, creating all necessary equipment for the baby it thinks is coming.

"Blighted ovum." This, like "empty sack," is ostensibly easier to take than "baby that died."

I will go back next week for another ultrasound. In the meantime, I await the miscarriage that is coming—hoping it will come naturally so I don't have to endure another invasive procedure.

And I process all the emotions that inevitably accompany this experience, reminding myself "not to doubt in the darkness what I knew in the light."

I will remember my own words, penned just two short weeks ago on this very blog: "I do not know God's plan for our lives, or for this baby, but I do know that He is good in all things. I trust Him in this. And I thank Him for this baby, however long and in whatever state he or she survives.

We trust Him with our lives, and we trust Him with this baby's life. If He lets us parent this child, we will gratefully receive that blessing. If He takes this child from us before we have that opportunity, we will praise Him even in that pain."

Emergency Room, Take 2

I won't bother to give anyone a blow-by-blow like I did last time--and it wasn't nearly as bad this time, anyway, since we chose a different emergency room to go to--but I will confirm that if you choose to go the ER, they are not interested in diagnosing what is wrong with you...they are only interested in proving that what you (or your doctor) thought might be wrong with you when you landed there, is not actually what's wrong with you. Then they're happy to send you home to "follow up with your primary care physician." You've usually spent lots of hours and dollars in this process, and I guess whether you consider that time and money wasted depends on your eventual diagnosis...

At any rate, yesterday was no exception... lots of time, lots of money, no diagnosis...

I am writing this update here so that those of you who saw my Facebook status about thinking I was passing a kidney stone, those who got the prayer request through Kathy, or those of you who just got word through the grapevine, can know what's going on at this point. Many thanks to those of you who have called to check on me today, but I am sending an update to keep the rest of you from having to do so. Fee free to skip to the "cut to the chase" section (below) if you just want the bottom line news.

The background: I was kind of "crampy" in my lower abdomen and lower back on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of this past week. Since Friday was to be 4 weeks exactly after the start of my last menstrual period, I assumed it was PMS and that I was going to have a pretty yucky period. Not much concerned...

The ramp up: Thursday evening, as I was reading to my family at the dinner table, my three-days-old-now cramping became terribly uncomfortable, and I excused myself to my bedroom to lie down, asking the kids to go get ready for bed. The pain rapidly intensified to excruciating, and I called iivo in to talk about what might be wrong.

Once again, while one of us writhed and moaned in excruciating pain, the other one perused the internet for answers as to what could cause such pain. After dismissing appendicitis (usually involves fever and chills, which I did not have) and ectopic pregnancy (pain doesn't usually arrive in this case until at least six weeks into a pregnancy, and is usually accompanied by bleeding), we settled on assuming I had a kidney stone to pass. All accounts indicate it to be pain on par with labor (it is worse) which causes nausea (check), inability to stay still (check), and a situation in which no position will alleviate or relieve it (check).

Not wanting to repeat our nightmare experience at the ER just three short months ago, we opted for overnight pain relief and a trip to the regular doctor the next day. 800 mg of ibuprofen didn't touch the pain, so an hour later I took a vicodin tablet which was in the house from a previous surgery. I was finally able to go to sleep.

The next day: PT was scheduled for a CLEP test on Friday morning, so iivo stayed home from work and took him so that I didn't have to drive while on narcotic drugs. Afterward, he drove me to the doctor's office.

I explained to the nurse practitioner that I was there because I was pretty sure I had a kidney stone, and I wanted to make sure it wasn't too big to pass. I mentioned that the pain had begun the evening before, but that I had taken pain medication and avoided the emergency room because I was relatively sure it wasn't appendicitis or ectopic pregnancy, the other two things the internet indicated might cause this kind of pain, and because a kidney stone, though extremely painful, was not potentially life-threatening.

I had to pee in a cup, and she poked around on my belly while we waited for the results. Apparently the results came back indicating that (1) I have a urinary tract infection, and (2) I have HCG in my urine. (For those of you who don't know, HCG--human chorionic gonadotropin, one of the only terms besides "Krebbs cycle" that I remember from all my years of studying biology--is a substance produced during human pregnancy. She had apparently chosen to test for it when I mentioned ectopic pregnancy, assuming--correctly--that this must mean that we were not using birth control and that there was therefore a possibility of pregnancy.)

Since she wasn't prepared to be medically responsible for severe abdominal pain in a pregnant woman, she dismissed what she feared was a possible ectopic pregnancy scenario to the ER.

There wasn't a chance I was heading next door to the same nightmare ER which had handled iivo's situation last February, so I called my ob/gyn's office and told them what was happening. I asked if I could please come there instead of going to the ER for the ultrasound, but they indicated that if my doctor had recommended I go to the ER, I should go, since ectopic pregnancy can be dangerous and life-threatening. We chose to head to the ER associated with their office, however, which is another town over.

Incidental en route news: The nausea decided to get serious at this point, and I threw up twice on the way to the hospital, once over the guardrail of the highway, and once in a barf bag we carry in our car. If you saw someone throwing up on the side of the highway around 2:00 in the afternoon Friday, that was me!

The ER: Their marching orders in hand (you know: prove this is not an ectopic pregnancy emergency, but diagnose nothing else that it might be), the hospital staff took blood, gave me an iv, gave me anti-nausea medicine to handle the vomiting, made me pee in a cup again, and generally watched me writhe in pain all afternoon as the vicodin wore off. Eventually I made it to ultrasound, where they found no evidence of any pregnancy anywhere. (Who didn't know that, when you're only a few days pregnant and haven't even realized your period is late yet!)

What could be causing this excruciating pain? They don't diagnose, remember; they only speculate:

* It could be appendicitis--yet one doctor who examined me said, "Does this hurt?" at which point I said, "I'm on vicodin, so I'm not sure," to which he responded, "I don't care how much vicodin you're on. If you had an inflamed appendix, when I did that, you'd climb off this table." Okay, so I guess we're safe assuming it isn't appendicitis.

* It could be an ectopic pregnancy--yet both the ultrasound tech and the first doctor who read the ultrasound didn't see anything that would make them conclude that there was a pregnancy in the fallopian tube that could be causing this kind of pain.

* Could it be kidney stones? (This was our original diagnosis ourselves, remember, and still what we were pretty sure it was... but we are the ones who had to even suggest this as a diagnostic possibility... we had to suggest that they bring us a sieve for me to pee through... we had to require that they keep the iv's flowing so I could keep urinating despite the fact that they wouldn't let me drink anything because of the vomiting... and no, they didn't look for possible kidney stones when they were doing the ultrasound, because their job was to rule out ectopic pregnancy only, remember?!)

This took all day?! Yep. Unbelievable, but yes. In the end, they sent me home last night after a dose of morphine--I was offered a choice of going back on pain meds, which I had refused all day since I found out about the pregnancy and so they could accurately assess the situation--or staying there overnight. You better believe I chose heading home. They instructed me to take vicodin when I got home, and to continue to take it all weekend to control the pain, until I could get to my ob/gyn on Monday morning. She would check HCG levels again then, to find out if they were progressing normally. (Apparently they double every 48 hours in a normal pregnancy, so knowing what mine were on Friday and then on Monday would help them determine if I had a uterine pregnancy or an ectopic one.)

Cut to the chase already! Okay, okay. I said I wasn't going to go blow-by-blow. Sorry!

I came home, took the vicodin, and went to bed. That was about 10:15. I woke up at around 3:00; stumbled into the bathroom in a sleepy, druggy stupor; forgot to pee in the sieve; then stumbled back into bed. I felt no pain, but the vicodin was only about four hours old then, so I decided to wait until morning to take any more. I woke up again around 6:30, peed through the sieve, and staggered back to my bed again. I still felt no pain, and realized this was in spite of the fact that all of the vicodin had to be out of my system after 8 hours.

So, that's where we are. No pain, all day! I was elatedly assuming this meant I had passed my kidney stone during the one accidentally-non-sieved urination of the night, but I talked to my sister today about her son's experience with kidney stones. (He was writhing around on the floor, moaning in pain, and throwing up all one day, then perfectly fine the next. She thought he had had a weird stomach virus. Three weeks later, same thing. Three weeks later again, same thing. At that point, she decided it had to be something besides a weird stomach bug and took him to the doctor. They diagnosed a kidney stone, and had to blast it for him to be able to pass it.)

So, I guess I either passed the kidney stone last night, or it stopped moving, causing a break in the pain until it starts moving again. I will hope it is the former, but the ob/gyn confirmed by phone today that the total absence of pain today confirms that this pain was related to a kidney stone--whether it has been passed yet or not--and not to an ectopic pregnancy.

I still have an appointment to see her Monday morning, when she will check HCG levels to find out what's going on with this very, very early pregnancy.

Since iivo and I have had four miscarriages since EL was born, we are not quick to assume that this pregnancy is normal and fine. But we do know for certain at this point that there is a fertilized embryo growing somewhere in my body, and that it does not have anything to do with the excruciating pain I was experiencing for the past two days.

There is certainly a chance I could have an ectopic pregnancy, but it is the same rare chance that any woman has of having an ectopic pregnancy. There is also a very good chance of this pregnancy ending is miscarriage, since there is increased chance of miscarriage with each one a woman has, and I've had at least four.

I am also 43 years old, and advanced age is another risk factor for miscarriage. Old eggs often produce fetal abnormalities, resulting in miscarriage. There is also increased possibility for Down's syndrome and other non-fatal fetal abnormalities at my age. iivo and I are aware of these risks, and have chosen not to use birth control in spite of them.

So, at this point we await news of this pregnancy. I am refraining from interaction with any emotions about any of it at this point, as there is no point in engaging with all of the possibilities. If I have an ectopic pregnancy (the one doctor's voice, who said he thought he saw irregular bulging in the fallopian tube, still lingers in my mind), I will have one particular set of ethical dilemmas and questions to wrestle with and a particular set of painful emotions to traverse. If I have a uterine pregnancy, I will face a very high chance of miscarriage and will face a whole different host of emotions accompanying that. If I have a uterine pregnancy that makes it, I will face a high chance of fetal abnormalities; this will bring its own set of thoughts and feelings and plans. And even if all is normal with the pregnancy and the baby, our lives will change drastically in relation to this reality. We will be thrilled, but we will have a whole new set of emotions to experience, decisions to make, and plans to execute. I do not need to engage all of those emotions and possibilities, since a good percentage of them will never come to pass. I will wait and engage only the ones the Lord actually brings my way.

I do not know God's plan for our lives, or for this baby, but I do know that He is good in all things. I trust Him in this. And I thank Him for this baby, however long and in whatever state he or she survives.

Please join me in praying. I'm not even sure what to ask you to ask for. Please pray for my health: I am currently on antibiotics for the urinary tract infection, I may or may not have passed the kidney stone that was causing such pain these past few days, and I am pregnant.

Please also pray for this pregnancy and this baby. Of course, our desire would be that the baby live and be healthy and whole and fine. Please join us in praying to this end.

It would not normally be our practice to share news of a pregnancy of this nature so early in the pregnancy. We know that the "odds" are against our giving birth sometime near next Valentine's Day--the baby's due date--but we also know that we serve a mighty God who is "able to do exceedingly above what we could ever ask or imagine." We trust Him with our lives, and we trust Him with this baby's life. If He lets us parent this child, we will gratefully receive that blessing. If He takes this child from us before we have that opportunity, we will praise Him even in that pain.

Thanks for praying. We will keep you posted.

Memorial Day

Pausing a moment to remember that Memorial Day weekend is about more than the cookout and trip to the beach...

Three spirit-crushing stains...

...and how to lift them.

So reads the title of a little blurb in May 2010's issue of Real Simple magazine. On page 210 they give tips for the following three "spirit-crushing stains," and--in the spirit of 'this is as good a place as any for me to file something'--I post them here for my (and possibly your) future reference.

Let's hope we actually never need them!

Courtesy of Real Simple magazine, May 2010 edition:

A GUEST SPILLED RED WINE ON YOUR WHITE SOFA

1) Immediately blot and reblot with a cool, damp sponge until no more color comes out. (You can do the rest after the guests leave.)

2) Spray with a mixture of equal parts water and 3% hydrogen peroxide (first test of colorfastness).

3) Let sit for a few minutes, then blot with a solution of one part white vinegar to three parts water. Blot again with a damp cloth. (Linen, silk, velvet, and wool sofas should be professionally cleaned.)

THE CAT PEED ON THE LIVING-ROOM RUG

1) Layer a few cotton cloths over the stain, cover with a plastic bag, and top with a couple of heavy books to soak up the liquid. Repeat until the cloths are no longer wetting through.

2) Apply an enzyme-based cleaner, such as Nature's Miracle ($8.50, drugstore.com), to an area twice as big as the stain.

3) Let sit for five minutes, then blot. Next, spray with equal parts white vinegar and water and let sit for 15 minutes; rinse with water and blot.

THE KIDS LEFT A PERMANENT MARKER SPOT ON A WOOD TABLE

1) Using a soft cloth, rub in a lemon oil-based furniture polish, going with the grain. Repeat.

2) Spot still there? Use a cotton swab to dab rubbing alcohol onto the stain; rub with a cloth.

3) Wait five minutes; blot and repeat. Follow with furniture polish to restore moisture to the wood.

I really love this magazine! To get your own free preview issue, go here.

Kids bowl free!

Kids bowl free all summer!

For a one-time fee of $24.95, up to four adult family members may join them... two games per day, any and every day.

Of course, standard shoe rental rates apply -- and there are the snacks and food which are screaming at them from the snack bar -- but the bowling itself is free.

We haven't ever taken our kids bowling, but it could be fun to show them that they aren't quite as pro as Wii Bowling might make them think they are. I remember being a kid and trying to make that stupid ball hit those stupid pins without rolling into that stupid gutter.

Everyone should have to live through that. It is like learning to hit that stupid softball.... trying to get back upright on a flipped jet ski when there are two of you... learning to stay up while parasailing... trying to ride your bike with your hands down by your sides... figuring out how to catch the wave and ride the boogie board all the way to the shore... mastering Heelys... finding that sweet spot on the backboard so the ball actually goes into the net every time...

This list is endless. What did you have a hard time mastering, but finally got it? Or didn't - like me with the bowling thing - but had a lot of fun trying?

[http://www.kidsbowlfree.com/amf.php]

Do we really have time not to?

As my kids have gotten older and their scholastic workloads have gotten heavier, it has gotten increasingly difficult to fit into their homeschool days all the things I want them to be able to do. I have long said that overworking our students is a notorious problem of us homeschoolers, who don't have the built-in parameters and time limits of the typical public or private school day.

Even if you get special permission from the school for your child to skip lunch ("Now that's a healthy practice for efficient learning," she says sarcastically), high school students these days typically can only fit in between five and six courses per year, no matter how full they stuff their schedules. Once you've covered the "requisite four" of English/language arts, math, science, and history/social studies, this leaves only 1-2 spots for electives. All electives.

The foreign language required for 2-3 years to be able to graduate, and recommended for 4-5 years for college-bound students, usually takes spot five. This typically leaves one more spot, if you're not willing to stop eating lunch in order to take more classes.

One more spot. One.

Band? Art? Drama? Chorus? Home economics or "shop" (insert whatever PC terms they're using in any given year for these decidedly non-PC, old-school names)? How about the less traditional, specialized electives like marketing? fashion design? The specialized academies like the School for the Arts? legal academy? math and science academy? international baccalaureate programs? AP coursework? Dual-enrollment?

It is enough to make your head spin. And there aren't enough hours in the public school day to fit in all the things you might want to study. (As I said earlier, we homeschoolers have to make sure we don't overload our students, who have more scholastic time on their hands during our time-efficient days and who have no built-in parameters as to the number of courses they may take in a given year! But that is a subject for another post.)

This post is about the not-so-obvious omission from the list... so neglected these days by most high school students as to be completely void from most teens' scholastic days... Did you even notice its absence? PE. Physical education. Getting outside. "Working out."

These things are known to be crucial to our health, both physically and emotionally. They strengthen our bodies and our minds. They help us burn stress. They help us think better.

And yet they've been entirely eliminated from most high school students' days. They are no longer "required" subjects, and as such are not taken. Who has time with all those other things scrambling for the spot?

I just read an interesting article that has me thankful that my kids are still overloaded with PE in their days. Their grandfather, a real workout buff even in his sixties, faithfully comes over three times a week and works them out, hard, for about an hour. Recently I've pledged to join them. Why? Because as much as I've thought I need the time that they're occupied elsewhere for my teaching and housekeeping duties, I need the physical activity more. Just like they do, I need to burn some calories and stress and get moving in order to be more productive and fruitful throughout the rest of my day.

The next question raised by this article is whether we need to move it earlier in our day...

In His Pocket

My offering for this month's writing prompt at Poets Online.
You were to write from the perspective of a famous person's animal. I had a fun time with it.

IN HIS POCKET

I am famous, in a round-about way,
a fact that doesn’t square
with your knowledge
or your understanding
or your perceptions
about anything.

The things you think you know,
people told you,
or maybe you just saw them
from your own angle
and misunderstood.
Misinterpreted.

His hand in his vest,
for instance.

Baroque gentility from
a political genius.
Or so he thought.
As did you.
Unless you thought at all.
Then you would have called him a monster
with an ever-expanding empire.

Monstrous genius.
Brilliant monstrosity.

(Then, in the end,
after all the fanfare,
fighting every country you can find,
in wars named after you,
you’re known only for being short
with your hand in your vest.)

Gentility and war.
Such unusual bedfellows.

Like he and I.

The monster 
and the lizard in his pocket.

© 2010 Laurie Sitterding

The Firecrackers

Okay, so maybe I have too much time on my hands during this Spring Break, but this video was amazing, and I watched it from start to finish - twice!



These girls are a jump rope performance group of 4th-8th graders known as "The Firecrackers." (Seriously... this footage is from a US Naval Academy performance on April 3, 2009, and I thought they were college cheerleaders or something. Some of these girls are nine or ten years old?!!)

Amazing! And I can barely flip the thing over my head and jump out of the way more than twice...

A subtle call to deliberateness..

"A nice reminder of how valuable time is," creator Alan Dye has said of this screen-saver from Real Simple magazine. "The clock's numbers fade as the hand sweeps over them," notes the acclaimed graphic designer of his creation.

I just say it is really cool-looking... and I find that seeing it in motion is an ever-so-subtle call to deliberateness. Time is marching on!

Enjoy.

Unplugged

It is Friday, and that means it is the day that my friend Chris comes to help us with our "clean sweep." (See my previous post for more information about that.)

Basically, this means I don't have much time for Blogging this morning... but I figured I'd share a tip I read in this month's issue of Real Simple magazine. (This subscription was also a suggestion from my friend Chris, as she's found this magazine full of wonderful tips for keeping life streamlined, efficient, and free, while still taking thought for beautiful. I like it.)

At any rate, this month they were speaking of ways to make the most of family time in this crazy busy, electronic world of ours. One woman's suggestion? She and her family take one weekend a month and go "unplugged."

They make no social engagements. They watch no television, play no video games, skip the movies. They spend the time deliberately doing all those wonderful things that get lost in the normal busy-ness of life, even on weekends... they go outside to play together. They go hiking. Swimming. Boating. Fishing. They pull out the board games. Card games. Puzzles. They cook and eat together. They grill out. They play croquet. Badminton. Spontaneous kickball with the neighbors. They garden. They plant flowers. They take a bike ride together.

Anyway, you get the picture. To me, the idea sounds wonderful.

And - get this - when we went to plan it, we found only ONE option left - during the next two months - where the weekend was not already full of other plans and obligations!

So, we'll see how it goes. It sounds really wonderful to me.

"And I love her back..."

We are in the middle of a huge house reorganization project. I mean massive. It is as if we are moving out of our house and moving back in. I am not exaggerating. There are boxes and odd pieces of furniture and random pieces of artwork all over the floors and hallways and everywhere. Every weekend we take bags and boxes full of discarded household items and clothing to the thrift stores. We throw away multiple bags of trash every Friday. And Saturday.

It is wonderfully freeing, and simultaneously both incredibly exhilarating and exhausting.

I am learning so many things, about myself and about my husband and about my children and about the Lord. So many important lessons... but that's for another time, in another post.

For today, I am just shamelessly looking for a place to save the "letter" I just received from my sweet little OG.

Part of the reorganization involves getting rid of all the myriad of half-functional computers scattered about the house and consolidating down to one family desktop, downstairs in the newly-created "study." Each of my children had to scour through documents and papers and all such stuff on the upstairs computers, figuring out what to save and what to "trash," literally.

Today I found an email in my inbox that said, "I don't know when I wrote this, but you can have it." This is what it said:

I love my mom for so many reasons that I could not even write them all down. But, for a contest, I guess I might be able to capture the seven most important reasons that I love her.

1:) She stays home and home schools me.

2:) She buys everything I need to become smart and healthy.

3:) She is always there for me.

4:) She loves everything I make her.

5:) She cares about my thoughts and intentions.

6:) She thinks everything I draw is a masterpiece.

7:) Lastly, she loves me very much.

And I love her back.

Pain, the ER, and other yucky things...

The emergency room is probably very good in emergency situations. However, in "maybe emergency" situations, or in "not quite emergency" situations, or in "we're not sure if it is an emergency or not" situations, they're generally less helpful than you might hope.

They're good at what they do; however, they're not so good at figuring out what's wrong with you if you're not about to drop dead from a heart attack.

It is Monday morning, following a very interesting weekend involving - yes - the emergency room. iivo and I spent all day Friday in both the ER and the doctor's office. The details of what has transpired so far, and of what is currently going on (as much as we know) are below, for those of you who care to read about such things.

As for my part, typing it all out, now that I have a moment, will be helpful for my processing of the whole thing, and for my ability to accurately remember details as more time passes.

I am quite certain no one in the world will ever actually read this post in its entirety, but here it is, blow-by-blow:

WEDNESDAY morning - iivo and I were awakened by EV's calling to us from her bedroom, "Mom, I can't move my neck." She awakened with severe stiffness and pain in her neck, and a rope-like band of muscle tightness running down the right side of her neck. We did some massage, ice, heat, soaking in a warm tub, and ibuprofen, and she basically took it easy that day, wearing a neck brace for support and to prevent movement, which was painful. That night she slept in our bed with me so as to have the better mattress support and to keep her from rolling into a weird position while sleeping. iivo slept in her room.

THURSDAY - EV attended classes with us at our homeschool co-op, but needed the ibuprofen all day to keep full range of motion and to be without pain. She slept - with the support roll in her pillow - in our bed with me again that night, and iivo again slept in her room.

FRIDAY morning - iivo awakened at 4:00 am with chest pains and difficulty breathing. He went to the bathroom, then spent some time trying to stretch and move about and get into different positions to alleviate the pain, to no avail. He came into the room where EV and I were sleeping to awaken me about 4:30. We gave him four low-dose aspirins to chew, then got online and researched about his symptoms, concluding after several trips through several "symptom checker" checklists, that we really should go the emergency room, just in case. We took the dogs out, put them back in their crates, left the kids a note, and I drove iivo to the ER at about 5:00.

At the ER, they took us to an evaluation room. They put in an iv line to draw blood and get base-level readings at about 5:15. (They want to check blood levels initially, and then again six hours later, since by six hours after the onset of pain, certain blood levels will be elevated in a cardiac emergency situation.) They then hooked iivo up to a bunch of monitors - heart rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen levels, etc. - and also did an EKG.

Soon after that they took him for a chest x-ray. I stayed in the room. They brought him back in a few minutes, but about a minute after the radiologist left from having wheeled him back, iivo declared, "I'm going to throw up."

"What?! Why didn't you tell the nurse before she left?"

"She was just a radiologist."

"Well, she might at least have known where a bag is, so you don't puke all over yourself!"

As I looked around the room for a barf bag, iivo's alarm monitors went off. I turned around, and iivo was a chalky shade of greyish tan (including his lips, which were the exact same color as his face). Needless to say, I was a little freaked out and surprised that no one was coming into the room to check on him. I went out into the hall to the nurses' station, asking, "Do we need to be concerned about those alarms going off?"

"Yeah, we're watching it," they said, staring at their screen at the nurses' station.

I indicated that iivo had said he was going to throw up, and a nurse sighed deeply and returned, irritated, to the room with me. She immediately walked over to turn off the sound portion of the alarm (wouldn't want the obnoxious wife coming out anymore, you know), then turned around and caught her first glimpse of iivo, who was still ashen and yellow-looking.

"OH!" she exclaimed, then said, "Just a minute!" and rushed from the room.

Hmmmm. Novel idea, to actually look at the patient, instead of just the patient's monitor screen at your nurses' station.

She returned with a doctor, and they did whatever-they-do for a while until he was normal-looking again. The obnoxious wife - that's me - was keeping an eye on the (silenced) alarm screen during all this, so I know that his heart rate dropped into the 30's, and his blood pressure into the 50's, during all this.

After this, they decided that the plan they had had - iv fluids and some nitrogylcerine under the tongue to see if that alleviated some of the chest pain - was unwise, since nitroglycerine will cause a lot of blood vessels everywhere to open up, a course of action unwise in someone barely hanging on to a normal blood pressure. So they simply got him comfortable (a scenario only possible in an upright position in the bed, and in which "comfortable" is loosely defined as able to breathe - however shallowly - without turning blue and able to manage the pain without wincing, grimacing, or actively crying, as long as I stay absolutely still.)

This "comfortable" waiting continued for four more hours, while they waited for it to be time to take the second blood draw. This second blood draw was normal, in that it did not have elevated levels of whatever-they-look-for, which indicate a heart attack.

The next course of action in the let's-eliminate-the-possibility-of-heart-attack protocol was to take him for a stress test. Yes, as in on the treadmill. So they got iivo up, made him put on his tennis shoes, and wheeled him away in a wheelchair. (I was not allowed to accompany him.)

When he got there, they indicated to him that they wanted him to get his heart rate up to 178. He indicated, in his usual humor, "Today is not the day for that, fellas... How about I just start out by walking without passing out?"

He walked - with the treadmill at an incline - until his heart rate was up to 150, then indicated that he couldn't continue. As soon as he stopped, he was very woozy and dizzy and lightheaded, couldn't really breathe, and was holding his very tight, painful chest. So the stress-test guys gave him some nitroglycerine - you know, the nitroglycerine he wasn't supposed to have - and wheeled him back down to his room.

As soon as he was brought back in, he had another turn-bluish-tan/sweat-profusely-and-be-unable-to-breathe episode, which the nurses handled by elevating his feet and dropping his head (which had always made him unable to breathe since 4:00 that morning) and patting him with wet cloths.

He was not yet hooked back up to his monitors, so I don't know what his blood pressure and heart rate actually did, but he went "greyish-white-without-lips" again.

I suggested they might raise the head of his bed, since being flat had made him go into breathing spasms since the beginning. Eventually they were able to get him a little better stabilized. At some point during all this, it came out that he'd been given nitroglycerine, which the nurses hadn't even realized.

{Really. At times, it was like watching a parody of a circus show.}

We were grateful, however, that the stress test, however wimpy for my run-several-miles-a-day husband, indicated that his heart was fine, and that he was not having, nor about to have, a heart attack.

So what was causing the pain and inability to breathe? "We're not sure. You'll have to follow up with your regular doctor."

"You mean, you have no idea what is wrong, except that it isn't a heart attack?" (Bear in mind that we've been there nearly twelve hours by now.)

"Well, at this point, there are all kinds of possibilities. It could be gastro-instestinal."

[As in indigestion. Oh, please! The man can't breathe or move for the past twelve hours over acid reflux?!]

"All of these symptoms could be associated with anxiety."

[Well, okay, I guess so. But generally panic attacks come on suddenly and last for a few minutes, never for an entire day. And this began in his sleep, at 4:00 am on a day off from work, before a three-day weekend of vacation at his folks' house, generally a place of great fun and delicious food and no domestic responsibilities of any kind. An anxiety attack in this context seems unlikely, don't you think?]

"It could be muscular."

[Well, okay, maybe, but he lifts weights and exercises and runs every day. He's done nothing out of the ordinary. He can't stretch or press his chest in any way that finds anything remotely resembling a sore muscle. The pain feels like it is deep inside. But, okay, having seen my shoulder thing several years ago, and having known people with terribly debilitating back pain, I guess we can try to buy this one. A little.]

"It could be an infection."

[He has no symptoms of illness and no fever at all, however. That'd be kind of weird, but certainly not impossible.]

At any rate, they sent us home with the suggestion that we take Tylenol for pain and follow-up with our regular doctor.

As soon as we started walking down the hall to exit the ER, he got slow and hunched over with pain; as soon as we walked outside and hit the cold air, his breathing became super-shallow and labored and he went into weird spasms during which he couldn't really talk.

I brought him home, gave him some Tylenol, and tried to get him to lie down in bed. He could not do so without being unable to breathe. He was agitated. He couldn't be still. Together with his parents (who had decided to come to us from NC when it became clear that we could not, in fact, travel there, and who arrived here about ten minutes after we did), I decided that we should do the "follow-up with your regular doctor" now, before they closed at 7pm on a Friday evening.

The GP on duty at the doctors' office was not iivo's usual one, but he was good to work with. He decided that he wanted another chest x-ray, concerned that the continuing severity and constancy of the pain, as well as the difficulty breathing, warranted another check on his lungs. He indicated that this second x-ray was warranted as things in the lungs can deteriorate very quickly, and the other one was done earlier that morning. He did not like some of what he saw in iivo's lungs, noting that there were indications of abnormality in the lower lungs that he wanted looked at more closely. He ordered us back to the ER for a CT scan of the lungs. (They have the necessary equipment and - I assume - the necessary personnel after 7:00 pm on a Friday night). He also gave us a prescription for vicodin, indicating that we should take that to alleviate pain over the weekend if the CT scan ended up being clean.

We arrived back at the ER for a CT scan (our GP had made arrangements with Heather, he said). They checked us in again the exact same way, gave iivo wrist bands again, and sent us to a room. (This time our "room" was a little alcove off the hubbub of activity, with a little curtain separating us from everyone else.) I had to go to the bathroom, so I excused myself for a moment, only to come back to find them sticking all the little monitor things all over iivo again, preparing to give him an iv and do another EKG. "What are you doing?" I asked, and was told of their plan. "Why do you need to do that, since we're only here for a CT scan of his lungs?" I asked. "His doctor arranged it with Heather."

"Well, since you are back with continued chest pain, we need to..."

"No, we're not 'back with continued chest pain.' Yes, his chest still hurts, but you have already ruled out that the pain is cardiac in nature, so we don't need another EKG. You sent us away from here, assuring us it wasn't his heart, and told us to follow up with his GP. We have done so, and he's sent us here for a CT scan of his lungs, based on some concerns he has. We would like you to just do the CT scan, please."

"Well, we'd like to monitor things while you wait," she responded, continuing to hook iivo up to the same monitors he'd been hooked up to all day. "You can certainly refuse the EKG if you'd like."

"I don't think he needs another EKG right now, thank you. We'll just wait for the CT scan."

At this point, the phone rang, and I was giving the director of our homeschool co-op an update for the prayer chain, when I realized that they were preparing to give iivo another chest x-ray. I excused myself from the phone call and asked, again, "What are you doing?" Again I was told of their plan. "He doesn't need another chest x-ray; he's had two already today, the last one just minutes ago. Here are the films, which they sent with us."

"I know, but we would like to do our own."

"You don't need to do your own. You may look at these if you'd like to see what's going on in his lungs right now. His doctor evaluated these films and is concerned enough to want a CT scan of his lungs. You can compare your x-rays from earlier today to these, if you'd like, or look at the CT scan when it is completed, but he doesn't need another chest x-ray right now."

"But we generally do a chest x-ray..."

"Ma'am, I appreciate that you are just following your protocol. I really do. But we are not here for you to evaluate my husband's chest pain. You have already done that, and assured us it is not cardiac in nature. You have also indicated that out regular doctor would have to do any further evaluation. So we are simply here for the CT scan he's ordered, which we'd like to have completed as quickly as possible."

The doctor eventually came along and looked at the chest x-ray films we had right there; she expressed concern that it indicated that iivo's shallow breathing was making his lungs "sticky," which was going to lead to pneumonia if he didn't start breathing more deeply soon. They gave him some morphine intravenously (they got to put in that second iv after all, this time in his hand), to try to ease the pain enough for him to breathe; the pain did not go away, even with the morphine. Eventually they did do the CT scan, which required a larger iv port than the one they'd put in his hand, so he was stuck for the third time that day and equipped with an iv port in his arm to handle the dye they had to administer for the CT scan. That scan was clear as far as indicating any life-threatening blood clots. (Blood clots in the lungs cause similar symptoms as the ones iivo is having.)

They once again released us, with only our GP doctor's prescription for vicodin for pain. We once again hobbled out of the ER in pain, once again went into breathing spasms upon hitting the cold air outside, and once again went weak and woozy upon trying to lie down. Finally, iivo and I got into a hot shower, hoping to rinse off the germs of the day and open up his breathing a little. He said it felt easier to breathe while we were in there, but immediately began the difficult breathing as soon as we got out. He indicated he would throw up after one bite of food, so I made him some hot tea and propped him upright in bed. He was only able to fall asleep with hot packs on his chest and 750 mg of vicodin coursing through his veins.

SATURDAY morning was no better, and we had to give him vicodin as soon as he woke up and tried to move, to ease his breathing spasms. He spent the day in bed, taking the vicodin as soon as it was time for the next dose. He did get up to try to eat a little something a couple of times, and to show his face. We opened Christmas gifts with his parents, with iivo sitting up in a chair in the den.

By evening, we got to talk to our doctor friend Matt, who advised that he add ibuprofen to the mix, since it is anti-inflammatory. Vicodin apparently has no anti-inflammatory properties in and of itself.

At any rate, iivo went to bed early, having taken a couple of doses of ibuprofen in addition to the vicodin. At 2 am he awakened soaking wet (as in I-went-into-the-pool-in-my-pajamas-and-then-got-into-bed kind of wet), and after he had changed and we were trying to go back to sleep, he said, "You know, my chest doesn't hurt for the first time since this whole thing started." I reminded him that he was regularly consuming over a thousand milligrams of pain killers, so we should be thankful but cautious about assuming we're out of the woods. He took advantage of a few deep breaths, and went back to sleep. (I had a harder time getting back to sleep, of course!)

SUNDAY: iivo felt significantly better than he had, so we spent the day trying to convince him to take it easy and not overdo it, as he was still masking all pain with pain killers. He was still pretty wiped out and lethargic, but clearly happy not to be in such horrible pain. He spent the afternoon in bed, but sat with us at the dinner table while we ate a celebratory dinner with his parents and mine for my father's birthday, which is today. iivo took his last vicodin at 9 am this morning, and his last ibuprofen at 3 pm. By the time he went to bed around 9 pm, he was in pain again, though not as bad as before.

MONDAY: iivo slept well through the night, though we were awakened at 2 am by the dogs barking at some policemen parked outside our house. Again, he was able to return to sleep quickly, while I had to move to the den. His breathing was still shallow and noisy and labored, and I was having difficulty getting to sleep with that going on. He slept until after 8 this morning, and awakened sore but not in excruciating pain. (He had had no pain killers overnight.) His parents left this morning, as his father is getting sick with some upper respiratory infection. So today, my father and I worked chauffeur duty around my mother's cataract surgery, my children's dentist appointments, and iivo's follow-up doctor appointment.

Our regular GP saw us this afternoon at 2:45. He wanted to draw blood again and do another chest x-ray (yes, that's three x-rays in the last three days, together with a CT scan) and indicated that he believes that it is most likely - given his elevated white blood cell count - that iivo has an infection in his lungs which has led to partial lung collapse and will lead to pneumonia if he continues to breathe in a shallow manner. (Apparently all the blood at the hospital they drew was checked for cardiac enzymes and stuff, but not for elevated white cell count, indicating infection?! Unbelievable!) He is unsure if it is viral or bacterial, but he thinks iivo should take antibiotics, just in case. He also thinks he should continue taking the iboprofen for inflammation and pain, since it has helped.

Basically, he indicated that, with chest pain, you rule out what it isn't, then take your best guess about what it is. We may never know for sure. And, as long as it goes away and doesn't return, that's okay, he says.

It is a little maddening to me, but I am glad that iivo is feeling somewhat better now. I would like to know for sure what was causing such significant pain and inability to function or breathe. But for now, steady progress toward improvement and feeling better will do.

That, and an early bedtime.

Computer Cretins, Unite!

Okay, so maybe most people already know this, but I decided to share this with any fellow computer cretins who sometimes have frustrating times with their printers but don't know it yet.

(That, and the fact that this is the handiest way I can think of to avoid an actual post-it note on my computer. If I ever need this information again, I'll be glad to have it in some other form than the scrawled, tattered, yellow document rapidly losing its adhesive power and irritating me every time I open my laptop...)

When your printer is frozen up, stuck with a document in queue in the spooler - which you've tried to delete, of course, but which will not go away, of course - this is how you can get rid of it and get things flowing again:

Control Panel
System and Maintenance
Administrative Tools
Services (at this point it needs you to grant it permission to continue)
Print Spooler
Restart the Service (link choice on far left on my computer)

This is assuming you've alreay tried selecting Control Panel then Printers, and deleting stuff there, and that you have tried restarting your computer.

Good luck!

Sweet Misery

The following documentary regarding the dangers of aspartame (marketed under several trademark names, including NutraSweet, Equal, and Canderel) is finally available for free public viewing online (see below). It is also pretty disturbing.

[I am often accused of being a big "conspiracy theorist," and as such I tend to keep my "radical" views to myself these days. I've pretty much decided that people are going to believe and do whatever they want to, and they don't want you complicating things by "being helpful" and sharing your counter-cultural views. The question, ultimately, is whether they're going to hate or continue to like you in the process, so it is easier with most people to keep your views to yourself... especially if you do things like give birth at home, breastfeed, skip immunizations, spank your children, home school, drink raw milk, skip mammograms, go out without sunscreen, and yes, skip the aspartame.]

You can always put your "wacko ideas" on your Blog. And so here we are.

I was first made aware of the dangers of artificial sweeteners many years ago through the research of my friend Gailon Totheroh, medical reporter for CBN News. [He also shed some light on the dangers of MSG consumption, on the importance of a healthy diet which avoids excess sugar, and of the dangers of vaccinations as well.] I went on to do copious amounts of research into these issues myself, and came to believe the truth of these claims based on all that I read and studied.

This documentary film, however, makes this information clearly accessible to average citizens who are just being exposed to the idea that aspartame might be dangerous to their bodies. If you don't want to read many books, explore original sources, and interview experts on both sides of the issue like I did, but would like a good, concise explanation of some of the most salient points regarding the aspartame controversy, this documentary film is a good place to start.

I have many friends who consume large amounts of aspartame - having bought the party line that it is healthier than sugar - and it grieves me not to be able to let them know (what I believe to be) the truth about the dangers. So, I'll post it here and let the chips fall where they may.

Please, nobody be offended! Of course you may eat and drink whatever you want to, with zero judgment from me.

You're even allowed to think I'm a moron for not joining you.

12 First Aid Skills

This is an important link to information everyone should probably know...

Although I may not agree fully with every single suggestion, I plan to have my children read about each skill, as a review of information learned in their CPR classes. (And the youngest one, who has not yet taken a CPR class, will benefit as well.)

Also available are online e-courses in basic first aid.