Batman, God - and The Joker: the Shooting in Aurora

(I don't know the author of this piece but thought it was worth posting/sharing.)

  By Paul Asay

It reads like the scene from a Christopher Nolan Batman movie.

A man, heavily armed and wearing a bulletproof vest, opens fire on a theater full of innocents, killing 12 people and wounding scores of others. Officials find signs his apartment may be booby trapped — trip wires tied to what appear to be homemade bombs. When police remove the killer’s gas mask, they discover the suspect — 24-year-old James Holmes — has dyed his hair red.

The Joker, he calls himself.

If only it had been a scene. If only the people in that Aurora, Colo., theater could’ve watched the horror unfold on screen, it would’ve made some sort of sense. It would’ve driven the plot forward, pushed Nolan’s brooding Dark Knight into action. And after Nolan called “cut,” actors and extras would’ve gotten up, brushed themselves off and walked away.

But there in Aurora, there was no Batman to stop the killer, no director to cut the scene. There was no plan to it, no plot — at least not that we can see. It’s just a tragedy — another senseless horror in a world that’s known far too many.

Of all the words that can be used to describe the Aurora shooting, “senseless” may be the worst word of all — particularly for those of us who call ourselves Christian. We claim to worship a good, just and all-powerful God — a God who loves us with a passion as broad as the universe itself. We are His children, we say. And God wouldn’t let any harm come to His children … would He?

And the question hangs in the air, waiting, pleading for an answer.

It’s sadly appropriate Holmes took on The Joker’s persona. He, among all of Batman’s archvillains, offers the worst possible answer to that hanging question: God? he chirps, brushing a hand through his caterpillar-green hair. How quaint. How precious. There is no God. There is no meaning. There is no reason in this cold, dark place. The only truth is that there is no truth.

“I’m not a monster,” he tells Batman in The Dark Knight. “I’m just ahead of the curve.”

The clash between Batman and the Joker is a struggle between meaning and meaninglessness. And that struggle goes to the core of our being.

We don’t know what sort of faith Batman has — what he believes in, if anything. But it’s obvious he believes in meaning — an overarching sense of purpose that transcends our biology and upbringing. For Batman, right and wrong aren’t just man-made constructs, but eternal ideals. He believes our lives have purpose: I believe that’s why he protects the people of Gotham with such verve and holds himself to such strict standards.

But the Joker, he doesn’t believe in any of that stuff. Right and wrong, life and death, it’s all part of the same cosmic joke. Meaning? Pish.

That’s why The Joker never goes away, I think — not for long, at any rate. His philosophy is too frightening to vanish completely. In his grinning visage, Batman faces his own secret doubt — doubt that many Christians like me sometimes face during the darkest moments of our lives. We wonder, in the wake of our Auroras, whether we’re behind the curve. Senseless tragedy hits us in the gut. Any explanation we might give, any words of hope we might try to offer, seem so inadequate: A joke that only the Joker could laugh at.

And yet there is hope. And we see a shadow of it in Batman.

The superhero’s fictional Gotham is a dark, brutal and often senseless place — a comic-book mirror of our own flawed and failing world. Batman knows it well. When he was just a boy, his parents were murdered in front of him.

I doubt Batman believes God was there in that alley that night when his parents were killed. And yet, a seed of a future hero was sewn in that awful moment. God didn’t pull the trigger. He didn’t “cause” that tragedy. But I believe God could’ve, in this fictional universe, worked through it. In the midst of Bruce Wayne’s darkest night, a Dark Knight was born.

I can’t say where God was yesterday in that Aurora theater. I’m no theologian, but personally, I doubt whether such evil could be part of God’s original, ideal blueprint. But I do believe this: That in the midst of such senseless tragedy, God is with us and, if we let Him, He can work through us. In the crux of our pain and confusion, He’s there—infusing this meaningless tragedy with meaning, offering hope in the midst of this helplessness.

**

Paul Asay is the author of God on the Streets of Gotham: What the Big Screen Batman Can Teach us About God and Ourselves. He works as a movie reviewer with the Christian outlet Pluggedin.com.

-------------------------------------------------------------

WW: Say a Little Prayer for My Bro'

Today (Wednesday) brother Rod is having brain surgery via the gamma knife for cancerous lesions. 

So, would you say a little prayer for him?

Below is something he wrote a few months ago for his weekly newspapers and which I shared previously, but I thought this might be a good time to share it once again:

It’s Me Again, Jesus!

Last week, careful readers will have noticed, Yours Truly skipped his weekly assignment of penning this little column, which is something I try to accomplish each Monday morning. (Careless readers may not have noticed, because the usual space was filled in with a “re-run” from months gone by… just like the TV networks do!)
It was the first time I missed my deadline in over three years. I do not have a good excuse.

I guess, if I was a “dream-up-excuses” sort of guy, I could come up [with] one. I was, after all, strapped down to an operating table, undergoing a bit of brain surgery.





But that’s really no excuse. I’ve undergone similar surgeries two other times in the last couple of years, and I managed to meet the deadline for my column both of those times!

So no excuses. I’ll try to do better in the future, although there admittedly may be some new challenges ahead.

Back in August of 2008, when I first underwent surgery to remove a malignant brain tumor, I promised to keep you posted of my progress, much as my friend Jerry Fowler had done during his illness a couple of years earlier. He shared his personal battle with cancer each week, and helped a lot of people along the way.

I guess I’m just not as disciplined as Jerry was, because, try as I might, I can’t seem to work my health picture into my column but once or twice a year. There have, however, been some recent developments, and I thought I’d share them with you.

I won’t try to give you all the background on the melanoma that I was first diagnosed with in 1983, or the recurrence in the summer of 2008 that briefly impacted my communication skills. I will instead refer you to this column, which is now posted online as a blog at www.rodshealy.com. (Just go back to August, 2008, and you can read all about it.)

When we last updated my condition here (last November), I mentioned that I had chosen the treatment route of “clinical trials”… still-experimental treatments which have not yet been approved by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA).

Although the my first round of trials -- an experimental vaccine designed to boost my immune system -- officially showed no response, there is some evidence that a partial response was achieved. In other words, some success, perhaps.

While searching for the next clinical trial, however, I was delayed by what appears to be multiple new recurrences of the melanoma in various areas: several spots in the lungs, where we already knew there was at least one large tumor; nine lesions in the brain, which were treated by gamma-knife last Monday at MUSC; and a number of brand new melanoma tumors in areas which do not appear to threaten any organs.

A biopsy of the large tumor in the lung, however, which had tested positive for cancer last June, suddenly came back negative, just a couple weeks ago. Hence, the possible partial success, perhaps.

As of now, I am scheduled to begin a new round of clinical trials next week. I’ll try to keep you posted better than I have been doing.

In the meantime, I am blessed to have no real side effects or disabilities, and am able to continue to work my normal schedule… with the obvious exception of last Monday, when I missed my deadline.

It’s also a good time for me to reflect a bit.

Given my several brushes with cancer, my odds of still being here are not good. In 1983, I was given a 35% chance of surviving five years. In 2008, my odds of making it through were described as maybe one in a thousand. And the couple of recurrences since then have been…well, let’s just say alarming to the technicians reading my scans. (You can always see it in their eyes!)

Still, here I am, starting on my next streak of writing a column every week for three years without missing a single one. I hope.

There are a few things I’ve learned through these experiences of the last two years.

First, none of the medical professionals and researchers can tell us what makes these cures and treatments work sometimes and not work other times. They’re striving to find out, but they just don’t know.

Secondly, a lot of really smart people – doctors, scientists, researchers – seem to think the “power of prayer” has a lot to do with it. I’m glad, because I think it has everything to do with it. When word of my diagnosis was revealed two years ago,

I was humbled by the number of prayer groups who helped me – friends and acquaintances, and total strangers alike. They prayed for me, and I assume that’s why I’m still here.

Although I’ve personally never stopped talking to Jesus about it, I do notice that our chats become a little more fervent and frequent each time I get a diagnosis with a new set of challenges. I’m praying as hard as I can, but I sure do appreciate those extra prayer-words from others (because yours might be the one that works!)

Thirdly, whatever my future holds is okay with me. It’s a great life, and I love this life, but I’ve certainly had my fair share of it -- probably more than my share -- so when my time comes, it comes. In my prayers, incidentally, I always address that exact point: I simply ask Jesus to use me as is His will. If that means going to Heaven sooner rather than later, then that’s what I’m ready for. After all, it’s not this life that really counts… it’s the next one. I believe. I am saved. And I am ready.

If I’m sounding a little more prayerful than usual in my column this week, I hope you’ll understand. Skipping my column last week gave me extra time to reflect on this week’s message… and I decided to talk to a larger audience this week.

Update:  Since surgery is today, maybe it's not really a little prayer that's needed.  How 'bout a BIG one?

~              ~                ~                ~               ~

Wordless Wednesday participants are here.

Wordful Wednesday participants are here. 

WW: "It's Me Again, Jesus"

These are rather strange pictures to post for the weekly Wordless Wednesday & Wordful Wednesday submissions.  This post will be way more wordful than those of previous Wednesdays -- and most of the words won't be my own.
The pictures above are of my brother Rod, who is four years younger than I am, which is one reason he always refers to me as his "eldest" sister.  
Besides being a very successful political consultant, he is the publisher of six weekly newspapers, for which he always has his own funny column. 
Today, I want to share what he wrote last week:

It’s Me Again, Jesus!

Last week, careful readers will have noticed, Yours Truly skipped his weekly assignment of penning this little column, which is something I try to accomplish each Monday morning. (Careless readers may not have noticed, because the usual space was filled in with a “re-run” from months gone by… just like the TV networks do!)

It was the first time I missed my deadline in over three years. I do not have a good excuse.

I guess, if I was a “dream-up-excuses” sort of guy, I could come up [with] one. I was, after all, strapped down to an operating table, undergoing a bit of brain surgery.

But that’s really no excuse. I’ve undergone similar surgeries two other times in the last couple of years, and I managed to meet the deadline for my column both of those times!

So no excuses. I’ll try to do better in the future, although there admittedly may be some new challenges ahead.

Back in August of 2008, when I first underwent surgery to remove a malignant brain tumor, I promised to keep you posted of my progress, much as my friend Jerry Fowler had done during his illness a couple of years earlier. He shared his personal battle with cancer each week, and helped a lot of people along the way.

I guess I’m just not as disciplined as Jerry was, because, try as I might, I can’t seem to work my health picture into my column but once or twice a year. There have, however, been some recent developments, and I thought I’d share them with you.

I won’t try to give you all the background on the melanoma that I was first diagnosed with in 1983, or the recurrence in the summer of 2008 that briefly impacted my communication skills. I will instead refer you to this column, which is now posted online as a blog at www.rodshealy.com. (Just go back to August, 2008, and you can read all about it.)

When we last updated my condition here (last November), I mentioned that I had chosen the treatment route of “clinical trials”… still-experimental treatments which have not yet been approved by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA).

Although the my first round of trials -- an experimental vaccine designed to boost my immune system -- officially showed no response, there is some evidence that a partial response was achieved. In other words, some success, perhaps.

While searching for the next clinical trial, however, I was delayed by what appears to be multiple new recurrences of the melanoma in various areas: several spots in the lungs, where we already knew there was at least one large tumor; nine lesions in the brain, which were treated by gamma-knife last Monday at MUSC; and a number of brand new melanoma tumors in areas which do not appear to threaten any organs.

A biopsy of the large tumor in the lung, however, which had tested positive for cancer last June, suddenly came back negative, just a couple weeks ago. Hence, the possible partial success, perhaps.
As of now, I am scheduled to begin a new round of clinical trials next week. I’ll try to keep you posted better than I have been doing.
In the meantime, I am blessed to have no real side effects or disabilities, and am able to continue to work my normal schedule… with the obvious exception of last Monday, when I missed my deadline.
It’s also a good time for me to reflect a bit.
Given my several brushes with cancer, my odds of still being here are not good. In 1983, I was given a 35% chance of surviving five years. In 2008, my odds of making it through were described as maybe one in a thousand. And the couple of recurrences since then have been…well, let’s just say alarming to the technicians reading my scans. (You can always see it in their eyes!)
Still, here I am, starting on my next streak of writing a column every week for three years without missing a single one. I hope.
There are a few things I’ve learned through these experiences of the last two years.

First, none of the medical professionals and researchers can tell us what makes these cures and treatments work sometimes and not work other times. They’re striving to find out, but they just don’t know.

Secondly, a lot of really smart people – doctors, scientists, researchers – seem to think the “power of prayer” has a lot to do with it. I’m glad, because I think it has everything to do with it. When word of my diagnosis was revealed two years ago,

I was humbled by the number of prayer groups who helped me – friends and acquaintances, and total strangers alike. They prayed for me, and I assume that’s why I’m still here.

Although I’ve personally never stopped talking to Jesus about it, I do notice that our chats become a little more fervent and frequent each time I get a diagnosis with a new set of challenges. I’m praying as hard as I can, but I sure do appreciate those extra prayer-words from others (because yours might be the one that works!)

Thirdly, whatever my future holds is okay with me. It’s a great life, and I love this life, but I’ve certainly had my fair share of it -- probably more than my share -- so when my time comes, it comes. In my prayers, incidentally, I always address that exact point: I simply ask Jesus to use me as is His will. If that means going to Heaven sooner rather than later, then that’s what I’m ready for. After all, it’s not this life that really counts… it’s the next one. I believe. I am saved. And I am ready.

If I’m sounding a little more prayerful than usual in my column this week, I hope you’ll understand. Skipping my column last week gave me extra time to reflect on this week’s message… and I decided to talk to a larger audience this week.





--------------------------

Other Wordless Wednesday participants are here.  Other Wordful Wednesday participants are here.

I Am Totally Embarrassed

Boy, was I embarrassed! I mean really, really embarrassed.

First, a little background. Over the years I’ve had two back surgeries, including a fusion. Overall, both surgeries were successful and brought tremendous relief.

However, on occasion I have severe pain in the lower back, the left hip and down the left leg. This is brought on or aggravated by long periods of sitting in the same position, especially when driving a long distance. It is also aggravated by walking while toting heavy items.

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I was involved in sitting in the same position for a long period as well as walking while toting heavy items, so I spent most of Thanksgiving weekend in excruciating pain.

By Saturday night, I decided to take something strong for the pain. This wasn’t late at night; it was only about 8 pm or so.

I zonked out – totally.

When I woke up again, it was 11:28 am on Sunday!! I slept through two alarms and a phone call.

I also slept through Sunday School and church. Usually I get up between 4 a.m. and 6 a.m., so 11:28 was like a whole extra night’s sleep.

So, what’s the big deal?

Well, the deal is that I’m the Sunday School teacher! And I slept through Sunday School!

If there’s a positive side to this, it’s that I teach a class of adults, not little children. There wasn’t much chance that class members would leave and run in the road or cause other problems or harm to themselves.

Still, I was totally embarrassed. I e-mailed class members to apologize and got all kinds of responses.

At least if they cut my pay in half, it won’t make much of a difference. After all, half of zero is still zero.

Just the same, I am embarrassed!

Have you ever done anything embarrassing like this?  What?  Share --  just so I'll feel better!

Avoiding the Swine Flu - Perhaps

This information was forwarded to me in an e-mail.  I don't know the doctor who offered the advice but it seems pretty sound and simple, so I'm sharing!

Dr. Vinay Goyal is an MBBS,DRM,DNB (Intensivist and Thyroid specialist) having clinical experience of over 20 years now heads Nuclear Medicine Department and Thyroid clinic at Riddhivinayak Cardiac and Critical Centre, Malad (W).


He offered the following regarding what is usually called swine flu:

The only portals of entry are the nostrils and mouth/throat. In a global epidemic of this nature, it's almost
impossible to avoid coming into contact with H1N1 in spite of all precautions. Contact with H1N1 is not so much of a problem as proliferation is.

While you are still healthy and not showing any symptoms of H1N1 infection, in order to prevent proliferation, aggravation of symptoms and development of secondary infections, some very simple steps, not fully highlighted in most official communications, can be practiced (instead of focusing on how to stock N95 or Tamiflu):

1. Frequent hand-washing (well highlighted in all official communications).
2. "Hands-off-the-face" approach. Resist all temptations to touch any part of face (unless you want to eat, bathe or slap).

3. *Gargle twice a day with warm salt water (use Listerine if you don't trust salt). *H1N1 takes 2-3 days after initial infection in the throat/ nasal cavity to proliferate and show characteristic symptoms. Simple gargling prevents proliferation. In a way, gargling with salt water has the same effect on a healthy individual that Tamiflu has on an infected one. Don't underestimate this simple, inexpensive and powerful preventative method.

4. Similar to 3 above, *clean your nostrils at least once every day with warm salt water. *Not everybody
may be good at Jala Neti or Sutra Neti (very good Yoga asanas to clean nasal cavities), but *blowing the nose hard once a day and swabbing both nostrils with cotton buds dipped in warm salt water is very effective in bringing down viral population.*

5. *Boost your natural immunity with foods that are rich in Vitamin C (Amla and other citrus fruits).. *If you have to supplement with Vitamin C tablets, make sure that it also has Zinc to boost absorption.
6. *Drink as much of warm liquids (tea, coffee, etc) as you can. *Drinking warm liquids has the same effect as gargling, but in the reverse direction. They wash off proliferating viruses from the throat into the stomach where they cannot survive, proliferate or do any harm.

WW: They Won!!!!

This photo isn't one that I took but it's one that represents so much more than most!






Perhaps you remember the post from several days ago - Bride-to-be - about my friend's daughter, Kimberly Wright. About a month after Cecil Bradstreet asked her to be his wife, she was diagnosed with Stage 3-C colon cancer.

She has been undergoing chemo treatments as part of this emotional roller coaster they have been on. In the meantime, the groom-to-be entered them into a Columbia, SC, TV station's "Dream Wedding" contest.

Two or three weeks ago, the couple learned they were finalists -- one of four couples. The winner would be determined by votes from the public. Some of this blog's readers let me know they voted online.

Early this morning, Kimberly and Cecil were announced as the winning couple!!!

Here is this morning's e-mail from her happy father:

Hello Everyone!
Just a quick note to tell you that my daughter, Kimberly Wright, and her fiancee, Cecil Bradstreet, were announced this morning as the winners of the WIS-TV "Dream Wedding" Giveaway at The Mitchell House in Lexington! They appeared live-and-in-person this morning at about 6:45AM when they were officially announced! They have selected Saturday, December 26th as the date for their wedding, because that date falls on the "off-week" between her 10th and 11th chemotherapy treatments.
Thank you for helping me help them make their dream come true! You truly played a great part in this!
You're the best!
God Bless!
David

Her father, by the way, is a cancer survivor.

Thanks to all of you readers who took time to vote!!!



- - - -

Other Wordless Wednesday participants.
Other Wordful Wednesday participants.

Last Thursday My Husband Died

Last Thursday my husband died.

If you’ve read many of my posts, you knew him as “The Dawg.” It was a nickname he loved.

During a medical visit on June 1st, we were told he had Stage 3B lung cancer. It was in both lungs and in the fluid around the lungs. We left the doctor’s office and went to a Waffle House for a late breakfast. He said one thing he did not want was to linger. He was not afraid of cancer; he was afraid of lingering. Even so, we all thought he had at least several months ahead of him.

He certainly didn’t linger; he lasted only 24 days after the diagnosis.

The Dawg – Carroll Smith – was an avid sports fan who played basketball and baseball but enjoyed all sports. He passed on what could have been a major league career because he felt it was his duty to serve his country in the military. He joined the Air Force, and, fortunately, was able to play baseball for the Air Force in Europe.

An 18-month-stay in the hospital with tuberculosis and subsequent arm injury dashed all hopes of a major league career, but his love of baseball only grew.

Following military service, Carroll went to work for the federal government; he retired from the Charleston Naval Shipyard as Employment Superintendent and Deputy Director of Industrial Relations with responsibility for over 8500 employees.

He was also a pigeon fancier. He started the hobby of breeding, raising, training and racing homing pigeons as a Boy Scout to earn a merit badge. Carroll continued this hobby until a few months ago and was known world-wide for his pigeons, selling them to people as far away as Taiwan. He visited the Queen of England’s pigeon loft and was friends with the Queen’s trainer.

Friends often referred to him as “the gentleman from Georgia.” He loved his birth state of Georgia and his adopted state, South Carolina, his home for 40 years. And he most definitely was a gentleman. He was one of the kindest, nicest and most genuine people I’ve ever known.

Carroll was a man of principles, integrity and loyalty. He could carry on a conversation with anyone because he was interested in people. He loved to learn - about people, places, history, events and more.

Together, we enjoyed working crosswords, playing games of trivia, going to movies, playing cards, worshiping together at our church and hanging out with friends.

I wish I had known him longer. We met casually in July 2006 but didn’t start seeing each other until sometime in 2007. Once we did, we were inseparable.

Until now.

Last Wednesday afternoon, evening and night, I slept with him in his hospital bed. Thursday morning, at 9:30, Carroll peacefully and gently slipped away, gripping my hand as I said “Peace be with you, Carroll.”

My head knows he is at peace, but my heart hurts just the same.

Questions - Ripped from the Headlines!

Is it okay for a parent to refuse medical treatment for a child? At what point does a parent's right to make a decisions for a child stop, if ever? If the government can make decisions about the health care for a child, how far does this power extend?

Does the age of the child make a difference?

The government decides at what age a child starts to school and how many years a child should go to school or at least through how many grades, for example. The government decides a minimum age at which a child may drive. Is it wrong for a government to order certain medical treatment for a child who is extremely - or even terminally - ill?

The government decides about seatbelts for children.

If a child is missing, we want the government to help find the child.

What about the separation of church and state? How about freedom of religion? If government, medical experts and religious beliefs are at odds, what happens?

Where do we draw the lines? I'm interested in what YOU think.

In the Hospital

The Dawg is still in the hospital!

The open heart surgery, originally scheduled for today, was postponed because he was hospitalized last Thursday with pneumonia. He's still on antibiotics.

Today he had a transesophageal echocardiogram. The only reason I'm writing about the procedure is that I finally learned to say and spell it (I think) -- so I'm going to use it!

Strong Medicine - Again!

I felt weird when I got out of bed one morning not long ago. Nothing in particular but just an odd feeling.

By the time I got to work, the odd sensation had changed. It had become – diarrhea. You know that feeling, don’t you?

Thank goodness, it was more of an inconvenience than anything else during the first part of the work day, but the “symptoms” got a little worse as the day wore on.

Unfortunately, we were so busy at work that it was all I could do to take the rather frequent bathroom breaks that were necessary; certainly I didn’t have enough time to leave and go to the drugstore to get any kind of medicine. I didn’t eat during the day because I didn’t want to exacerbate the problem.

Driving home was treacherous. I sat tight. Literally.

When I got home, I went straight to the medicine cabinet – well, actually, that was my second stop; the first was the bathroom.

When I opened the medicine cabinet, I was relieved (pun intended) to find just what I had needed all day – anti-diarrheal medication.

It was a generic, over-the-counter medicine, but the box indicated it was the same formula as something that used to be by prescription only. “Original prescription formula” is what it said.

That let me know it was probably strong and fast-acting, exactly what I needed. And, even better yet – and quite unusual for stuff in my cabinet – the expiration date had not yet passed.

I spent the next several hours doing some much-needed research, really glad the medicine worked so quickly.

It wasn’t until I was getting ready for bed that I found out exactly how strong that one tablet had been. It was still in my pocket.

Now that’s pretty strong medicine that works just by being in a person’s pocket, don’t you think?

* * * * *

During April, which is the one-year anniversary of this blog, I'm reposting a few from a year ago. This is one of those!

Yucky, Yucky, Yucky!

There’s just nothing like having to go to the emergency room in the middle of the night.
Okay, so it wasn’t the middle of the night; it was 4:30 am.
I was throwing up. I won’t share all of the yucky details but there was some blood.

This, I thought, required a trip to ER. I was weak and didn’t want to call someone and then wait for a ride. So, immediately after the second wave of yuck, I got in the car and went to ER.

I signed in at 5:11 am.

Now, if you want to get taken out of the waiting room promptly, just keep throwing up. You get moved to the area where the nurses and doctors are!
I kept throwing up all over myself, which was okay, I guess, because I still had on my nightgown and robe, which could be easily washed back at home.

It was about 5:45 when I was given one of those delightful hospital gowns. You know the kind; they open in the back. Still, it was clean. The nurse said she’d return momentarily to start the IV.
She didn’t. I finally got that around 6:30.

Who knows? Maybe that was momentarily in hospital time, but it wasn't momentarily in nausea time.

Anyway, after about 3 ½ hours of IV, anti-nausea medication, blood work and such, I was told I could go home.

It wasn’t until the nurse told me I could get dressed that I realized the only clothes I had with me were the nightgown and robe. The same ones that were now yucky.
And that’s what I had to put back on to drive home.

Now THAT is yucky!

Christmas, Sniffles & Puffs

Christmas was – well, it was hard to describe this year.

For one thing, I’ve been sick since the 23rd or 24th. If I had money to invest, it would be in Kleenex or one of the other brands of tissues.

Actually, the investment would probably be in the Puffs brand. That’s because my daughter has decided that her son should call me Grandma Puff. That’s a whole ‘nother story!


If had a nickel for every time I’ve coughed or sneezed, I would definitely have the money to invest in Puffs, Kleenex and lots of other things.

But Christmas was also wonderful. Daughter Tiffany came home from Nashville; son Tree was home from D.C.; daughter Mandy, her husband, Adam, and their son, Harrison, were home from Denver. Could there be anything better than having them all at home at the same time, even if for a short while only??

And on the 26th, I played with grandson Harrison while Tiffany, Tree, Mandy and Adam cooked dinner for all of us. They shopped, cooked and cleaned up afterward. What a treat! Everything was SO delicious. I'm still eating leftovers -- enjoying and remembering.


The night before – on Christmas – we were all up at Mom’s house with my two brothers and two sisters and their families. Lively and loud the whole night.



Clement Moore wrote “not a creature was stirring” about Christmas Eve; on this Christmas night, when our family was gathered, ALL of the creatures were stirring – and more. It was certainly not a "silent night."


Even though I was sick and had a splitting headache, I still enjoyed being with family. (The Dawg was sick, so he didn’t get to go to Mom’s. Or perhaps he would say he was sick, so he didn’t have to go.)


The celebration part with family is over but Christmas should never be over.
May you live Christmas all year ‘round – the way it’s meant to be!

Getting a Fix Fixed

I’ve always thought one of the worst parts of surgery or any medical procedure, including lab work, was not being able to eat after midnight the night before.

For me, the food wasn’t what I missed; it was the diet Cokes. Diet Coke is my fix, my addiction. I drink several early in the morning, and then continue throughout the day.

I found out Monday that brother Rod’s fix must be coffee. Since his surgery was scheduled for late afternoon (4 pm), he had a long stretch in which he couldn’t eat or drink. He had to go a long time without his numerous cups of coffee.

As he and I worked Monday morning, he frequently reached into his shirt pocket and then brought his hand to his face. The crazy guy had coffee beans in his shirt pocket. He’d take them out, breathe in the aroma, then put them back in his pocket – for a short while.

I guess that’s one way of getting a fix fixed.

Somehow, I don’t think smelling a diet Coke would help me.

Surgery was Successful!

Surgery for brother Rod's brain cancer is over. The entire tumor was removed!!!!!! Thanks be to God.
Thanks to all for prayers and well-wishes. See http://www.rodshealy.blogspot.com/ for more details and comments. By the way, here's the link for the weekly column Rod wrote for his papers just hours before his surgery: http://doingthefirst.blogspot.com/2008/08/random-thoughts-from-luckiest-man-on.html. On the picture below is Dr. Sunil Patel, the excellent MUSC surgeon who "got a piece of Rod's brain." He is shown in the waiting room after surgery, explaining results to family and friends.

Comments for Brother Rod 4 pm surgery on 8/11/08

It's 3 pm and we're at MUSC. Surgery is expected to start soon
and will take about 4 hours.

Feel free to leave your comments for and stories about Rod at this new blog site at http://www.rodshealy.blogspot.com/.
In fact, please DO leave some comments about Rod. Look at the one Rusty DePass left; it's hilarious!! Surgery is set for Monday afternoon at MUSC. {See August 5th posts below for additional information.}

Ugh - or Yuck!

I have a weak stomach. And I have a terrible gag reflex.
This is not a “fun” thing; it’s just something I cannot help. If a doctor needs to use a “stick” to check my throat, I gag. I mean really gag. But the stick is nothing compared to the smells. Certain smells just make me sick to my stomach.
Somehow – I don’t know how – but somehow, I’ve been able to handle changing dirty diapers without totally losing it.
Years ago, when my oldest child was only six months old, we were attending a convention at Disney World. Since she was our only child and easy to travel with as an infant, we took her with us.
One night, after a pleasant day of sight-seeing and other activities, we decided to retire early. I was in my nightgown and was giving Tiffany her bottle. When I held her to burp her, she did more than burp. She threw up – all over her and all over me.
Well, like I said, I have a very weak stomach. After Tiffany threw up all over me, I just couldn’t help it: I gagged and gagged - and then threw up all over both of us also!
Try not to visualize this, okay?

Strong Medicine

I felt weird when I got out of bed one morning not long ago. Nothing in particular but just an odd feeling.
By the time I got to work, the odd sensation had changed. It had become – diarrhea. You know that feeling, don’t you?
Thank goodness, it was more of an inconvenience than anything else during the first part of the work day, but the “symptoms” got a little worse as the day wore on. Unfortunately, we were so busy at work that it was all I could do to take the rather frequent bathroom breaks that were necessary; certainly I didn’t have enough time to leave and go to the drugstore to get any kind of medicine. I didn’t eat during the day because I didn’t want to exacerbate the problem.
Driving home was treacherous. I sat tight. Literally. When I got home, I went straight to the medicine cabinet – well, actually, that was my second stop; the first was the bathroom. When I opened the medicine cabinet, I was relieved (pun intended) to find just what I had needed all day – anti-diarrheal medication. It was a generic, over-the-counter medicine, but the box indicated it was the same formula as something that used to be by prescription only. “Original prescription formula” is what it said. That let me know it was probably strong and fast-acting, exactly what I needed. And, even better yet – and quite unusual for stuff in my cabinet – the expiration date had not yet passed.
I spent the next several hours doing some much-needed research, really glad the medicine worked so quickly.
It wasn’t until I was getting ready for bed that I found out exactly how strong that one tablet had been. It was still in my pocket. Now that’s pretty strong medicine that works just by being in a person’s pocket, don’t you think?
Copyright 2008 - Sherry Shealy Martschink