So, I complain about other people not posting, while I am the world's worst!
There is so much in life to be thankful for, I often find myself pissed off - with myself- for not being thankful. I love the fact that I can hold a grudge against myself longer than I can any other person on the face of the earth. If it were not for my awful sense of humor I think I would be a grouch. Watch out Oscar, I am moving in on your can! If you have someone you love, please take the time to say thank you, I love you, and appreciate the nice things they do. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the crap that you go through in daily life that you not only forget to stop and smell the flowers but you also forget to plant the seeds so there is something good there to smell.
My husband is on dialysis. His one kidney has completely failed. Our live revolves around his dialysis, getting ready for treatment, ordering supplies for treatment, mailing blood work for treatment, dealing with the side effects of treatment, and then the actual treatment itself. It is very easy to get wrapped up in "our life is treatment" and all else falls by the way side. I have promised myself that we are going to find a way to not let treatment be our life. There are certain things that just have to be done, my honey-do list will forever be bigger than I want. I am a list maker and since dialysis started my list just seems to be stalled. So, I am going to start back with my list of things to do today and just keep rewriting what needs to be done like I did not have to do it the day before. You know, keeping both eyes straight ahead and never looking back.
Our typical dialysis week starts on Sunday and ends on Thursday. On Sunday, we have to make a sack of dialysate. This has to be started early in the morning or at least seven hours before treatment. The good thing about that is that we use the same sack for three nights of treatment. The issue with that is that once the sack has started someone has to be home to correct any alarms that might go off. Treatment on Sunday starts earlier than most other days, actual treatment takes about 2 1/2 hours but with set up and clean up it takes more like 3 1/2 to 4 hours depending on what happens. This is good but then we have to figure out what to do with the babies and Tatiana. At 6:30 pm, I start by washing my hands, this is done about a million times over the next 3 hours, and then gathering supplies - cartridge, saline, access supplies (needles), lab supplies, tape, drape cloth, alcohol wipes and my handy dandy notebook. There is also a flow sheet that has to be completed during treatment and I make sure I have a new one and start filling in the blanks.
Thanks to the handy dandy notebook, I have a list of things that need to be done during treatment. The first thing that has to be done is the cartridge has to be primed. This takes about 17 minutes after you get it into the machine and the saline attached. Then there are the alarm checks and snap and tap. Snap and tap usually takes about 10 to 15 minutes. You start with the red line and start getting all the air out of the lines. You have to go through the system twice to be sure you get all the air out of the lines. It is not a hard process but time consuming. The worst part is tapping the filter to get all the air out, just because the filter is hard plastic and you have to beat it against your hand until all the air is gone. Air is an issue if it gets into your blood stream but with this machine the air causes alarms to go off so that the air never gets into your blood stream. When you are done with snap and tap you attach the pressure pod and prime the saline line. They you start the PureFlow that has the dialysate in it (this is the sack that was made earlier in the day), attach three lines and then it is ready for treatment. While all of this is going on, he weighs, gets his standing and sitting blood pressure and temperature. We figure out how much fluid needs to be taken off, then program it into the machine. This is where the fun stuff really starts.
I tear the tape that is needed for securing the access lines, get the needles, the heparin, band aids, lab stuff. After I tape the drape cloth and set all the supplies down it is time for access. To gain access, you have to stick him in his fistula, twice. We use what is called the buttonhole technique. It is the less painful way to do this but there always seems to be issues with one of the buttonholes. No matter how I look at it, I am jamming two large needles into my husbands arm. I am not a nurse! or health care professional. Most of the time I can take a deep breath and go. Some days this is a quick process and others it takes longer. After the lines are in and the heparin is given (one day some how the needle full of heparin set on my husband's chest for 1 1/2 hours until the machine started giving us fits because his blood was clotting - thank God for all the help numbers we have and Natalie, the most awesome nurse and person who never talks to us like we are idiots when I am sure she wants to at times) you attach the two lines from the machine to the husband. Do one final check and THEN start treatment.
There is a set of reading that must be taken when the treatment is first started and a blood pressure recorded. Then as pressures allow the machine is taken up to the highest speed it can go. The readings and blood pressures must be taken every thirty minutes during treatment which takes about 2 1/2 hours from the first reading. Toward the end of treatment the medication that is given at the end of treatment needs to be drawn and any lab supplies ready. When all of the extra fluid is removed the machines alarms, an adjustment is made and the machine finishes washing the blood. When the final alarm goes off it is time for rinse back. This is where you give him back the blood that is still in the cartridge and lines. After that you unhook him from the machine, take some end of treatment readings and turn off the machine. The lines that you started access with are still in his arms and they have to be removed. Because of the heparin that is given to thin his blood so it does not clot during treatment it takes longer for him to stop bleeding when the lines are removed so we sit there and look at each other while we hold pressure to stop the bleeding for at least five minutes sometimes longer. Another temperature, sitting and standing blood pressures must be taken. The cartridge removed from the machine and the machine wiped clean. He weighs while I take out the trash the flow sheet gets faxed and we are done with treatment for Sunday!
This is done for five nights of the seven in our week. The other part of treatment is that we have three children at home. Tatiana, who is an awesome daughter and person, is left taking care and getting her 5 and 4 year old siblings off to bed. She is a good daughter and only partly because she never complains about helping out with her sister and brother.
I am thankful:
that we can do dialysis at home
that we have good children who do what needs to be done without issue
that we love each other and are loved by others.
Still sitting in the Corner after 40 years,
Christine
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Things I have learned living in Alabama
I wish I could take credit for this being something I wrote but I didn't. I am not sure who did but they seem to understand where I come from.
Christine
Things I have learned living in Alabama :
A Possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.
"Onced" and "Twiced" are words.
It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy.
"Jaw-P " means "Did ya'll go to the bathroom?"
People actually grow AND eat okra.
"Fixinto" is one word.
There is no such thing as "lunch".
There is only dinner and then there is supper.
Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar!
Backards and forwards means "I know everything about you."
The word "Jeet" is actually a phrase meaning "Did you eat?"
You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH them.
You don't TURN off lights, you CUT them off.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE FROM Alabama IF:
You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.
You measure distance in minutes.
You've ever had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.
You use "fix" as a verb. For example: "I'm fixing to go git somethin ta eat."
All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect or animal.
You know what a "DAWG" is.
You carry jumper cables in your car. For your OWN car.
You only own five spices: salt, pepper, Texas Pete, Tabasco and Ketchup.
You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit "a bit warm".
You know all four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.
Going to Wal-mart is a favorite past time known as "goin' Wal-martin" or off to "Wally World."
You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good soup weather.
Christine
Things I have learned living in Alabama :
A Possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.
"Onced" and "Twiced" are words.
It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy.
"Jaw-P " means "Did ya'll go to the bathroom?"
People actually grow AND eat okra.
"Fixinto" is one word.
There is no such thing as "lunch".
There is only dinner and then there is supper.
Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar!
Backards and forwards means "I know everything about you."
The word "Jeet" is actually a phrase meaning "Did you eat?"
You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH them.
You don't TURN off lights, you CUT them off.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE FROM Alabama IF:
You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.
You measure distance in minutes.
You've ever had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.
You use "fix" as a verb. For example: "I'm fixing to go git somethin ta eat."
All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect or animal.
You know what a "DAWG" is.
You carry jumper cables in your car. For your OWN car.
You only own five spices: salt, pepper, Texas Pete, Tabasco and Ketchup.
You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit "a bit warm".
You know all four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.
Going to Wal-mart is a favorite past time known as "goin' Wal-martin" or off to "Wally World."
You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good soup weather.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Our World - Atlanta Thieves Nab 2 Bicycles From Jimmy Carter
Really? Did they need the Carter's bikes?
Christine
Atlanta thieves nab 2 bicycles from Jimmy Carter
Mon Jan 12, 5:13 pm ET
ATLANTA – Not even a former president is immune from thieves.
Two bicycles belonging to President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, were snatched from inside the Carter Center near downtown Atlanta earlier this month.
The couple likes to ride bicycles in nearby Freedom Park when they have free time. Peter Wicker, the owner of a local bike shop, donated the bicycles to the Carters in 2007 after seeing the poor condition of their old bikes, which had been brought in for repairs.
Atlanta police say they have made no arrests.
A spokeswoman for the Carters told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution that the couple is currently in China.
___
Information from: The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, http://www.ajc.com
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090112/ap_on_fe_st/odd_presidential_bikes_stolen
Christine
Atlanta thieves nab 2 bicycles from Jimmy Carter
Mon Jan 12, 5:13 pm ET
ATLANTA – Not even a former president is immune from thieves.
Two bicycles belonging to President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, were snatched from inside the Carter Center near downtown Atlanta earlier this month.
The couple likes to ride bicycles in nearby Freedom Park when they have free time. Peter Wicker, the owner of a local bike shop, donated the bicycles to the Carters in 2007 after seeing the poor condition of their old bikes, which had been brought in for repairs.
Atlanta police say they have made no arrests.
A spokeswoman for the Carters told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution that the couple is currently in China.
___
Information from: The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, http://www.ajc.com
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090112/ap_on_fe_st/odd_presidential_bikes_stolen
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Frist and Ten by Me
Coming from a small town in Alabama where football is king, it was not hard for Bobby Young, Jr. to fall in love with football. It was a cold November Friday night during his 9th grade year when he got his first varsity start. Having his first start in November meant playoff time which was like going from crawling to running a marathon all at once. Watching the now 40 year old coach talk about his first days of football you could almost see in his eyes that he was reliving the moment. “When I was told I would get to start for a player that was injured in a motorcycle accident, my first thoughts were, ‘Now is my time. I deserve this chance’.” By Wednesday of that week he said he started to question if he was really ready to go up against juniors and seniors. Could David really slay Goliath?
During the game, he was getting run over by the older more experienced defensive linemen he was facing. An aggravated and frustrated 9th grader emerged by making a late hit and costing the team a fifteen yard penalty which lead to them having to punt. Recalling the moment now his brow became furrowed and his balding head dropped toward the floor. As he came off the field the head coach said, “Son, I know you are getting beat up out there but we do not play like that.” With his head down he sensed the heat from someone staring at him. “I was trying to look up while keeping my head down,” Young remembers. He could see his father’s feet standing at the fence. His father was a short man with a crew cut that gave away his military back ground. He motioned for Bobby to come over. Before his dad could say a word he knew the disappointment his dad had in him because that was not the way he was being raised. After a few choice words so quiet only Bobby and his dad could hear, he was sent back to be with his team and finish the game. On the bus, on the way home his coach told him, “Lift your head up boy. There will be more games. Sometimes we have to learn things the hard way.”
His love of football is what brought him back to education as an adult. “I served in Desert Storm as part of the ground forces. Being over there made me realize how short life was and that I needed to be doing something I loved,” he told me. Upon returning to the United States he did just that. Realizing that coaching football would make him happy and becoming an educator would allow him to do to two things he loved - coach football and teach history. “Playing football taught me about hard work and dedication.” Football practices were long, hot and humid in South Alabama. Players would be sweating as they walked to the practice field.
Former players remember Coach Young as hard but always fair. “At the end of practice he would tell us to do our homework, get a good night sleep and kiss our mama’s.” Another recalls when he refused to do his work in math. The teacher sent a note to Coach Young, as most teachers would do when someone was having a problem even if they just needed some extra help with school work. “Before practice, we sat on the steps near the practice field and Coach would talk to us about practice and take care of any business,” the former player said. “He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note. ‘Mr. Johnson, please stand.’ He called you mister when you were in trouble.” Johnson recollects swallowing hard as Coach Young began to read the note out loud as his teammates looked at him. When his coach was finished reading the note, he folded it back up, looked up at “Mr. Johnson,” lowering his sunglasses so everyone could see his piercing blue eyes. “I guess you forgot you are at school to get an education and that playing football is a privilege.” He then had everyone else line up and started practice. Players would often run hills for different things; not doing homework, being late to practice, having a detention or forgetting part of their uniform. “Coach said ‘Thirty hills’, (this was about 10 minutes of running) ‘then come and find me,’ and he walked to the field. I was thinking that I was getting off easy.” Finishing his hills, he jogged over to his coach. Coach Young asked him why he was going to school and before he could answer Coach Young sent him running to one of the three sheds that surrounded the practice field. Johnson ran from shed to shed stopping in between as Coach Young reminded him that school is where you get an education and not just somewhere to play football.
“I have always stressed to young athletes that getting your education is the most important thing you will do in your life. With an education, they can achieve anything; it is not about finishing high school but looking beyond high school,” a semi-smiling Young answered. He feels he brings his hard work ethic from football and his love of education to the classroom. “After returning from the Persian Gulf, I started working as a teacher’s aide in the special education department while I finished my degree. Working with those children taught me about the kind of teacher I wanted to become. I take history and make it relevant to what is happening today.” He talks about a president’s project that is more than what the students have read about the president. “Yes, they give the background information but I also require that they tell me what they thought was good and bad about how the president handled things; what they would have done differently if they had been that president?” With his arms folded over his chest, he explained that he hates to see any child not educated. Feeling that the youth are the future of our world he thinks teaching is his calling. “I coach because I love it. I teach because that is what I am supposed to be doing.”
When asked about family time he wrinkles his face and the short hairs on his head seem to stand on end. “It takes so much time to be a great teacher who coaches. At times, I feel my family gets shorted.” The love he feels for his family is very apparent in his eyes. As far back as he can remember they have always supported what he has done. His son was the equipment manager and tutored players. His daughter has been his “water boy” and helped her mom launder and mend uniforms. “My wife has cleaned throw-up and mopped the floors when the plumbing in the locker room had issues. I would not be the man I am without my family.” Long hours, hot days, students trying to cut class and family time that is different from most, Bobby Young, Jr. feels he is living the life he was meant to be living. He had several coaches in high school, each coach leaving a lasting impression while molding the would-be coach as a person and teacher.
During the game, he was getting run over by the older more experienced defensive linemen he was facing. An aggravated and frustrated 9th grader emerged by making a late hit and costing the team a fifteen yard penalty which lead to them having to punt. Recalling the moment now his brow became furrowed and his balding head dropped toward the floor. As he came off the field the head coach said, “Son, I know you are getting beat up out there but we do not play like that.” With his head down he sensed the heat from someone staring at him. “I was trying to look up while keeping my head down,” Young remembers. He could see his father’s feet standing at the fence. His father was a short man with a crew cut that gave away his military back ground. He motioned for Bobby to come over. Before his dad could say a word he knew the disappointment his dad had in him because that was not the way he was being raised. After a few choice words so quiet only Bobby and his dad could hear, he was sent back to be with his team and finish the game. On the bus, on the way home his coach told him, “Lift your head up boy. There will be more games. Sometimes we have to learn things the hard way.”
His love of football is what brought him back to education as an adult. “I served in Desert Storm as part of the ground forces. Being over there made me realize how short life was and that I needed to be doing something I loved,” he told me. Upon returning to the United States he did just that. Realizing that coaching football would make him happy and becoming an educator would allow him to do to two things he loved - coach football and teach history. “Playing football taught me about hard work and dedication.” Football practices were long, hot and humid in South Alabama. Players would be sweating as they walked to the practice field.
Former players remember Coach Young as hard but always fair. “At the end of practice he would tell us to do our homework, get a good night sleep and kiss our mama’s.” Another recalls when he refused to do his work in math. The teacher sent a note to Coach Young, as most teachers would do when someone was having a problem even if they just needed some extra help with school work. “Before practice, we sat on the steps near the practice field and Coach would talk to us about practice and take care of any business,” the former player said. “He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note. ‘Mr. Johnson, please stand.’ He called you mister when you were in trouble.” Johnson recollects swallowing hard as Coach Young began to read the note out loud as his teammates looked at him. When his coach was finished reading the note, he folded it back up, looked up at “Mr. Johnson,” lowering his sunglasses so everyone could see his piercing blue eyes. “I guess you forgot you are at school to get an education and that playing football is a privilege.” He then had everyone else line up and started practice. Players would often run hills for different things; not doing homework, being late to practice, having a detention or forgetting part of their uniform. “Coach said ‘Thirty hills’, (this was about 10 minutes of running) ‘then come and find me,’ and he walked to the field. I was thinking that I was getting off easy.” Finishing his hills, he jogged over to his coach. Coach Young asked him why he was going to school and before he could answer Coach Young sent him running to one of the three sheds that surrounded the practice field. Johnson ran from shed to shed stopping in between as Coach Young reminded him that school is where you get an education and not just somewhere to play football.
“I have always stressed to young athletes that getting your education is the most important thing you will do in your life. With an education, they can achieve anything; it is not about finishing high school but looking beyond high school,” a semi-smiling Young answered. He feels he brings his hard work ethic from football and his love of education to the classroom. “After returning from the Persian Gulf, I started working as a teacher’s aide in the special education department while I finished my degree. Working with those children taught me about the kind of teacher I wanted to become. I take history and make it relevant to what is happening today.” He talks about a president’s project that is more than what the students have read about the president. “Yes, they give the background information but I also require that they tell me what they thought was good and bad about how the president handled things; what they would have done differently if they had been that president?” With his arms folded over his chest, he explained that he hates to see any child not educated. Feeling that the youth are the future of our world he thinks teaching is his calling. “I coach because I love it. I teach because that is what I am supposed to be doing.”
When asked about family time he wrinkles his face and the short hairs on his head seem to stand on end. “It takes so much time to be a great teacher who coaches. At times, I feel my family gets shorted.” The love he feels for his family is very apparent in his eyes. As far back as he can remember they have always supported what he has done. His son was the equipment manager and tutored players. His daughter has been his “water boy” and helped her mom launder and mend uniforms. “My wife has cleaned throw-up and mopped the floors when the plumbing in the locker room had issues. I would not be the man I am without my family.” Long hours, hot days, students trying to cut class and family time that is different from most, Bobby Young, Jr. feels he is living the life he was meant to be living. He had several coaches in high school, each coach leaving a lasting impression while molding the would-be coach as a person and teacher.
Change by Me
When your first child is born, the thoughts of their future are really dreams, distant dreams that you can not really begin to understand; at least this is how it was for me. My son, Rio, brought such love and joy into my life from the day he was born that it was unimaginable to think of him leaving my side. He was always funny and smart, too smart or his own good sometimes. We had always talked to him about going to college, and stressed how hard he needed to work so that he could be on scholarship. Those words run through my mind on a daily basis now, eighteen years later. College was a big part of everyday conversation but the thought of him leaving, and what that would mean to me as a mom, never actually entered my mind. I think it started when Rio was in the 10th grade, the realization that one day our house would no longer be his full time home.
January of his 10th grade year, he came home from school and told us he wanted to register to take his ACT in June. At the time it really didn’t seem like a life-changing moment; so we registered and he started studying for the test. We looked for every free website we could find to help him study. He was dedicated to studying everyday; he has the ability to throw himself into whatever it is he wants to accomplish. June came and so did the test. He came out of the test unsure if he had done well. I think he was sick for the four weeks it took for him to get his results online. Everyday he would say, “I should have studied more.” We reassured him that he had done his best.
The day came that we could view his scores online; we had been waiting on this day was like waiting on the lab results from a doctor’s office. After much anticipation on all sides, we login and there it is a 30 overall. He was excited but was scared that the computer was wrong and wanted to wait until he had the paper in his hands before he would celebrate. Now, I was the one starting to feel sick, I had no idea what was about to happen, but I was sure somewhere along the line I was not going to like it. This was, after all, my baby- at least my first one. A week and a half later, the paper with the scores comes in along with mail from more places than we could have expected. I thought, “They must be joking if they think my son will leave me.” However, as we looked at every piece of mail that came in over the next two years, the realization became very overpowering. If the mail wasn’t enough, the phone calls from different schools started - strange voices on the phone began asking for Rio. This prompted long conversations about what he wanted to study and what their schools had to offer. I felt like the Martians had invaded my home and were trying to take my son with them. It wasn’t like I wasn’t incredibly proud of him or we hadn’t been preparing him for college; just my heart could not (or would not) imagine a house that did not include my first born: even though my head kept telling me that this is what he is meant to do- what he really needs to be doing.
Nearing the end of his junior year, we told him he needed to start to narrow his list down to five schools. Late that summer, we moved from rural Alabama to Gulf Breeze, Florida. We didn’t think much about how this would impact going to college, now we know. When you move from one state to another (or maybe it is just Florida because of the Bright Futures Scholarship) he became a student without a state. If he applied to a Florida college he would be considered an out-of-state resident until after his first semester, because he had not lived in Florida for 12 months; because he graduated from a Florida school, if he applied in Alabama he would still have to pay out-of-state tuition. This really didn’t help in narrowing down the colleges, but it didn’t hurt either because tuition was now about the same no matter where he went. So, he chose five schools. This was supposed to be a good thing, right? All I could do was go on the computer and map how far the schools were from the house, in hours not miles - because I needed to know how long it would take me to get there if he needed me. Not that he would need me, during his 9th grade year he went with a group from school to Chicago to compete in a choir competition. I made the mistake of telling him he didn’t have to call unless he wanted to. I got a call from the airport on the way there and on the way back.
I have never seen so many different forms or different ways to ask the same question as on scholarships. We were drowning in a sea of scholarship applications. This was like a job for both of us, we really wanted him to be able to graduate college and have little to no student loan debt. Some of them were so long it reminded me of when I enlisted in the Navy and I was looking for the phrase, “So help me God,” or the place where he signs away his first born child. These scholarships were important so we filled them out until our fingers were ready to fall off. His senior year and the summer afterward seemed to fly past like a fighter jet on its way to a mission.
Somewhere along the way, the awesome faculty and staff at Birmingham-Southern College convinced him that they really needed him to become a part of their family. Here we go, I thought with dread, he is finally leaving my home. The home we have spent so many years building with great care. We started the packing and buying for my son to move four hours away. I was somewhat okay with that distance; I could make it there and back in a day if I needed to do so. It was a cold, wet Saturday in August. He let me drive his truck because the weather was so bad. His dad and sister followed us. I knew, once I got in and shut the door, that this was it. My son, that I loved so much, would only come back to our house if he wanted to. I dreaded getting into that car when we finished unpacking his things in his dorm room. Just trying to think of what I could do to make the day last just a minute longer - because I knew if I had just one minute more, I would not cry. We started the walk back to the car and it seemed like we were running to me. I kept looking at my husband like, “Slow down, you fool.” I got in and closed my door, Rio reached over and kissed my forehead and gave me a hug. In that moment, my heart was filled with so much joy and sorrow; I thought it would pop like a balloon.
January of his 10th grade year, he came home from school and told us he wanted to register to take his ACT in June. At the time it really didn’t seem like a life-changing moment; so we registered and he started studying for the test. We looked for every free website we could find to help him study. He was dedicated to studying everyday; he has the ability to throw himself into whatever it is he wants to accomplish. June came and so did the test. He came out of the test unsure if he had done well. I think he was sick for the four weeks it took for him to get his results online. Everyday he would say, “I should have studied more.” We reassured him that he had done his best.
The day came that we could view his scores online; we had been waiting on this day was like waiting on the lab results from a doctor’s office. After much anticipation on all sides, we login and there it is a 30 overall. He was excited but was scared that the computer was wrong and wanted to wait until he had the paper in his hands before he would celebrate. Now, I was the one starting to feel sick, I had no idea what was about to happen, but I was sure somewhere along the line I was not going to like it. This was, after all, my baby- at least my first one. A week and a half later, the paper with the scores comes in along with mail from more places than we could have expected. I thought, “They must be joking if they think my son will leave me.” However, as we looked at every piece of mail that came in over the next two years, the realization became very overpowering. If the mail wasn’t enough, the phone calls from different schools started - strange voices on the phone began asking for Rio. This prompted long conversations about what he wanted to study and what their schools had to offer. I felt like the Martians had invaded my home and were trying to take my son with them. It wasn’t like I wasn’t incredibly proud of him or we hadn’t been preparing him for college; just my heart could not (or would not) imagine a house that did not include my first born: even though my head kept telling me that this is what he is meant to do- what he really needs to be doing.
Nearing the end of his junior year, we told him he needed to start to narrow his list down to five schools. Late that summer, we moved from rural Alabama to Gulf Breeze, Florida. We didn’t think much about how this would impact going to college, now we know. When you move from one state to another (or maybe it is just Florida because of the Bright Futures Scholarship) he became a student without a state. If he applied to a Florida college he would be considered an out-of-state resident until after his first semester, because he had not lived in Florida for 12 months; because he graduated from a Florida school, if he applied in Alabama he would still have to pay out-of-state tuition. This really didn’t help in narrowing down the colleges, but it didn’t hurt either because tuition was now about the same no matter where he went. So, he chose five schools. This was supposed to be a good thing, right? All I could do was go on the computer and map how far the schools were from the house, in hours not miles - because I needed to know how long it would take me to get there if he needed me. Not that he would need me, during his 9th grade year he went with a group from school to Chicago to compete in a choir competition. I made the mistake of telling him he didn’t have to call unless he wanted to. I got a call from the airport on the way there and on the way back.
I have never seen so many different forms or different ways to ask the same question as on scholarships. We were drowning in a sea of scholarship applications. This was like a job for both of us, we really wanted him to be able to graduate college and have little to no student loan debt. Some of them were so long it reminded me of when I enlisted in the Navy and I was looking for the phrase, “So help me God,” or the place where he signs away his first born child. These scholarships were important so we filled them out until our fingers were ready to fall off. His senior year and the summer afterward seemed to fly past like a fighter jet on its way to a mission.
Somewhere along the way, the awesome faculty and staff at Birmingham-Southern College convinced him that they really needed him to become a part of their family. Here we go, I thought with dread, he is finally leaving my home. The home we have spent so many years building with great care. We started the packing and buying for my son to move four hours away. I was somewhat okay with that distance; I could make it there and back in a day if I needed to do so. It was a cold, wet Saturday in August. He let me drive his truck because the weather was so bad. His dad and sister followed us. I knew, once I got in and shut the door, that this was it. My son, that I loved so much, would only come back to our house if he wanted to. I dreaded getting into that car when we finished unpacking his things in his dorm room. Just trying to think of what I could do to make the day last just a minute longer - because I knew if I had just one minute more, I would not cry. We started the walk back to the car and it seemed like we were running to me. I kept looking at my husband like, “Slow down, you fool.” I got in and closed my door, Rio reached over and kissed my forehead and gave me a hug. In that moment, my heart was filled with so much joy and sorrow; I thought it would pop like a balloon.
Christmas Name Drawing
My cousin sent this email to the family before the Christmas Name Drawing.
I love it... Christine
In order to help you all shop for us, we have comprised a list of recommended do’s and don’ts for shopping for us.
Don’t
· Buy clothes, we have plenty, and frankly your idea of fashion works for you, not us.
· Buy random shit, we have lots of random shit, whatever you give will probably be added
to the garage sale sometime later in the year
· Get offended by the directness of this email.
· Buy my dogs clothes, of any type, size, color, good rawhides are okay if you do buy for
them.
· Worry, be happy.
Do
· Buy gift certificates for me at Sporty’s Pilot Shop (online)
· Buy Gift certificates for me at Plant City Airport
· Buy Gift Certificates for her at Sports Authority
· Buy Gift Certificates for Both of Us at Borders or Barnes & Noble
· Buy Gift Certificates for her at Ann Taylor
· Ask the other one for clarification before buying a questionable item.
Remember the we love you all and are trying to help you maximize the enjoyment that your gift will bring.
I love it... Christine
In order to help you all shop for us, we have comprised a list of recommended do’s and don’ts for shopping for us.
Don’t
· Buy clothes, we have plenty, and frankly your idea of fashion works for you, not us.
· Buy random shit, we have lots of random shit, whatever you give will probably be added
to the garage sale sometime later in the year
· Get offended by the directness of this email.
· Buy my dogs clothes, of any type, size, color, good rawhides are okay if you do buy for
them.
· Worry, be happy.
Do
· Buy gift certificates for me at Sporty’s Pilot Shop (online)
· Buy Gift certificates for me at Plant City Airport
· Buy Gift Certificates for her at Sports Authority
· Buy Gift Certificates for Both of Us at Borders or Barnes & Noble
· Buy Gift Certificates for her at Ann Taylor
· Ask the other one for clarification before buying a questionable item.
Remember the we love you all and are trying to help you maximize the enjoyment that your gift will bring.
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