Sticky Slopes…

When I was a kid, my older sister and I would go on day trips to the mountains with my Dad. We would wake up extra early, get ready to go, and head out to the slopes to be one of the first people to ski the white and fluffy powder (snow) for the day.

There was always an expertly packed backpack that would contain all essentials for the day, including a yummy lunch made by my Mom to enjoy later and all of the snacks that we could need to keep our energy up. 

We would get all dressed up in our ski gear, paying extra attention to any potential exposure to our phalanges and toes (let us take a moment to cover those up!). Then we would walk into the lodge to get our lift tickets and any gear that we didn’t have and, decide who was wearing the backpack first, and finally, we were ready to hit the slopes!

I always got nervous for the next step of the day, getting on the chair lift… 

Steps for getting on a chair lift: 

1. Just bend your knees into chair pose, while holding your ski poles tightly, standing in the ski boots that don’t move and are attached to wobbly sticks
2. Let the chair glide up behind you and slowly pick you up off of the ground.
3.  Oh and don’t bend too forward until you put the safety guard down… 
4. Ok, now you can relax and breathe and enjoy the scenery!

The experience of going up the mountain with my Dad and my sister are tucked in my memory jar. Memories of talking, sharing, laughing, and absolutely some gentle critiquing of my ski efforts down the last hill (there could have been a lot more of that;)). 

One time when it was my turn to wear the backpack for the trip up and down the mountain, somehow I made it on the chair safely! Unfortunately, the thing about getting on a chairlift is that you have to get off the chairlift as well. 

Steps to get off the chair lift: 

1. Lift safety guard, while not dropping poles.
2. Prepare to disengage by sliding your tushy closer to the edge of your seat. 
3. Wait until the chair gently slows close to the ground and ski off. 
4. Ski off
5. Ski off
6. ANDREA, ski off!

Oopsie.

Remember how it was my turn to wear the backpack? While my sister and my Dad happily skied away from the seat, I, unfortunately, had a strap of the backpack stuck in the seat of the lift, making it impossible for me to get off of the chair! It wasn’t until an alarm started going off as the chair started going back towards the base of the mountain that my loving skiing group even realized that I wasn’t skiing happily behind them!!

If you are following any kind of social media right now, you know that our world is messy and full of alarm bells and that can easily lead us to feel stuck or that we are heading in the wrong direction. It is very easy to just want to hide our heads under the pillow and ignore the problems, or to bite back to people we used to love and care about if they have a different opinion than ours. 

I do not have any of the answers here on my blog, but I was reminded recently that we are to love kindly, keep trusting in the Lord and find solace in the words of Jeremiah 17: 7-8 (see below).

Till next time, thank you for reading.

xoxo

Becoming a Health Care Worker in a Pandemic

In the Spring of 2019, I began the journey of becoming a Hospital Unit clerk. In order to get into this program, I need to do some part time upgrading of my high school courses. One day on my way to math class, I had to cross the city train tracks to get to my parking stall. Before I could cross the tracks, I had to stop as the light turned red.

While I was stopped at the red light, the indicator announcing an oncoming train started to sound. As a pedestrian started j-walking past my car, he gave me the strangest look and started pointing at me, I was offended, he was the one breaking the law and crossing the street outside of the pedestrian crosswalk. Before I could give him a look back, I heard. and then felt the reason for the look.

I had stopped my car RIGHT underneath the train crossing arm!!

Those feelings of shame and ridiculousness that you are feeling towards me, don’t you worry… I felt all of those for myself as I sat there with this big stick with flashing lights hanging over my car during not one, but two(!) trains.

**Thankfully, I was not in any danger, the arms are far enough away from the tracks that this was only an embarrassing ordeal, not an emergency. I hoped that this was not a metaphor for how my new school journey was going to go!

By the end of 2019, I had finished my upgrading and moved into full-time studies, and at the end of my first semester, the whole world started going into lock-down due to the Covid-19 pandemic, which forced me to continue my studies with at-home learning.

We made it through the first half of the year by celebrating our time together but missing dearly our get-together’s with our family and friends. I am sure that most people who read that last sentence can relate in some regard, whether you were forced to work at home with little home from school or having to become a full-time teacher with all of the other ‘life’ things still going on.

It was a lot.

It took a lot of positive reinforcement.

For both of us.

As I neared the end of my second semester, it became clear that I needed to find some kind of employment to tie us over until my Fall semester started. I applied to every single job I could think of… grocery store, hardware store, housekeeping… The only interview I had during this time was a phone interview for Home Depot. The interview went about as well as your thinking it might have gone and seemed to fade off after they asked me if I was forklift trained… Uhhhh, I know how to use a fork, does that count?

To be honest, I was starting to feel a little concerned about how I would occupy my time for the next 4 months, and soon Emily would be finishing up with grade 6 and would also be home for the summer.

I remember getting the email.

It said that our hospitals were needing students to come and work for the summer as a Covid Screener, would I be interested?

Yes, yes indeedy do, I was interested!

I wound up loving working as a Screener here in Edmonton, I learned so much about having empathy in highly stressful situations and treating people with kindness on what perhaps was probably a hard day for them. I got to know a lot of staff from different parts of the hospital, and I asked them a lot… a lot… of questions about how things work. The knowledge and the memories that I gained from those conversations I will hold close to my heart forever.

I was able to have my Unit Clerk practicum at the same hospital, and then go on to graduate with Honours and start officially working in the unit where I had my practicum. My preceptor and the other unit staff are some of the most amazing people I have ever met. I still remember my first morning going to find the coatroom and stumbling into the morning rounds meeting room instead… What a great first impression I made, I guess I haven’t changed that much;)

It is always amazing to me to be able to look back over a certain time and see how God’s hand was upon you, guiding you, reminding you, and how ultimately His timing was perfect for His plan for you!

When this journey started, I had hoped I wasn’t making a dangerous or embarrassing mistake. The field that I was trying to get into at that point was considered ‘over saturated’ and ‘redundant’, two words that don’t promise a wise career change, not to mention that during the journey, our whole world turned upside down! However, instead of getting stuck under the fear of crossing trains, I was able to just keep going, knowing that this was God’s plan and I was trying to be obedient to Him.

And He did not disappoint and I am so thankful.

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it:)

If Kathlerslife was a Podcast…

In 2019, while I was in school, I had an assignment to write a podcast episode and I thought I would share it here with you!

Hello, and welcome back to Kathlerslife Podcast, where I share some life experiences and stories to help encourage you as you go about your day. 

Today I wanted to talk about how having a good support or family system in place can be not only a good thing for everyday life but also help you achieve your goals. And make them that much sweeter.

I love the way the Charlie Brown cartoon artist, Charles M. Schultz shows this in one of his comics: We see Charlie Brown carrying his best pal, Snoopy, on his shoulders down the grassy path and he captioned it: “In life, it’s not where you go– it’s who you travel with.” 

When we look back at times in our lives and the goals or dream we have set for ourselves, we can see a relation between the supported and achieved goals and the unsupported and uncompleted goals. 

My parents are probably the most supportive Mom and Dad a girl could ever have, and depending on what stage of life I was at, would depend whether I thought this was a good or a not so good thing;) My sister was very interested and talented at drawing, specifically horses. When she shared this with my parents, they supported her by providing her with beautiful books and drawing paper, and everything needed for building intense shading skills. Supporting her through this when she was young, allowed her to become an incredibly skilled and wonderful artist now that she is grown.

There is this lie out there that if we try to do everything ourselves and keep all of our goals a secret, then no one will notice if we fail. I remember one time, I had set this workout goal for myself. I was going to do 30 days in a row, but because of how my previous athletic goals had failed, I decided to keep it to myself and not tell anyone. Just in case, you know?

So on Day 30, I was over the moon when I managed to complete my goal and go on to set a new one. When I emailed my sister to tell her my news, she was excited for me, but also asked: Why didn’t you tell me? I would have cheered you on. Oh, I guess I didn’t think about it like that. 

No one ever runs a marathon alone… There are always people around to cheer and support you. Along the side of the road, there are tables with water, electrolytes, and snacks! To keep you going and help you succeed.

Trying to run the life race by yourself can cause more harm than good, so here are 3 ways that I think can help encourage you to accept or build a support system for yourself: 

1. Just start by telling one person your goal… We have all heard that incredibly cheesy saying: Sharing is caring. Yet somehow, it works especially with French fries. This is a small step, but an important one. When I started thinking about going back to school at an age that I won’t say out loud, I kept waiting for someone to say: That is such a dumb idea, you have job security right where you are, why do you want to change that? However, no one did. I was overwhelmed by the excitement and intense pride that was shared with me first from my parents and family and then from friends and acquaintances. 
2. Don’t take it as criticism when your ‘people’ check in with you on your progress. This is all part of the caring that I mentioned before. Asking questions is a way to gain knowledge and to understand something or someone better. Not asking how things are going with your goal would be like going out on a first date with someone, and not saying anything… Which would make it a very long and uncomfortable evening. So instead, be thankful for them asking questions and finding out how you are doing. 
3. Success is so much sweeter when you have a team of supporters just waiting for you to succeed. Along the way of my schooling, I have been so encouraged whenever I talk about how it is going. And one day, probably in about a year or so, I will get to walk across the stage with my adorable cap and gown on and graduate. I firmly believe that the cheering love and support that will come from my beloved groupies will be so loud and encouraging. And I will most likely cry, a lot. But that end goal and vision in my head of my supporters there with me, make it a real possibility to complete my goal. And don’t worry, I will pack kleenex. Lots of it.

We aren’t always going to do everything perfectly and we will make mistakes and not complete all of our dreams. Remember the story I shared earlier about my sister and her love for art? Well, I decided back then after I saw her do so well that I was also interested in drawing… Dolphins… Let’s just say that while my parents showed me the same unwavering support that they showed my sister, I did not grow up to be a dolphin artist. 

I hope that this encourages you today, and maybe there is a goal you have been wanting to set? Maybe it’s time to share it with those who love you and just go and enjoy the journey together.

Thank you for reading:)

Thank You!

To Our Beloved Readers,

This blog was started back in 2011 when I really needed somewhere to share my thoughts and feelings, and it grew into this wonderful community.  I am so thankful for this safe space that I could always come and write.

Now that Emily is growing up, she wanted to be included into the blog family… In preparation for this, we read back over the years and shared some laughs over previous stories and photos of us.

In order to create the kind of blog space that is big enough for TWO Kathler girls, we needed to start a new blog space called: Kathlerslife 2.0 😉 Never to replace the Kathlerslife O.G. though.

We would love it if you would follow us over at the new site to create some new memories! Click Here

 

Thank you again for being there with us,

Andrea

How Exercise might have Saved My Life

A note: In 2019, I had an assignment for one of my classes to create a speech and I thought I would share it with you:)

Growing up I was a happy little kid who loved to socialize and was always ready to face the day head-on. I kept a fairly simple guideline for how my life would play out, maybe you have heard a version of this poem before? “Andrea and Future Hubby, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage, and then comes a baby in a baby carriage.”

When Emily Lauren was born in late March 2008, I adjusted my plan to now include this tiny bundle of sweetness. I made a promise to her to be the best mom I could be so that she wouldn’t feel a loss from being in a one-parent home. 

I love looking back at Emily’s early years, because she has always had this quality of greatness that people can seek for their whole lives and never find, however, it’s also hard to look back, because of how sick she became and how I lost myself.

When Emily was about 6 months old, the fevers started. When a healthy person gets a fever, usually a temperature of 37.5 to 38.3 degrees is considered low-grade and potentially good for the body as it fights off the infection. In Emily’s case, her fevers went straight to 39 degrees or higher and came on so quickly that I ended up spending most of my time worrying about her and when the next fever would come. 

As Emily grew through what should have been the terrible 2’s, the only terrible part was this mysterious illness that was taking over our quality of life. The doctors were saying if she kept going at this rate with her immunity unable to fight off infection, she would need to stop going to places like daycare, and the likelihood of her going to public school disappearing until her body grew out of this until she was about 12. 12 years old? Nevermind childhood dreams of riding bikes, rollerblading, or going to kids camp, but not even having a chance of normal school life until she was 12? This was devastating news. 

When Emily was about four years old I was invited to go to Mexico for a wedding five months away. I remember standing and looking in the mirror, wondering where the happy girl from my childhood had gone and who was this tired, worn-out, and expressionless person facing back at me? Well, whoever she was, she was going to have to get it together because she was going to Mexico. 

After almost 5 years of putting all of my focus on Emily, and her health, I lost myself in the process. It is easy to do, but harder to rectify. Determined to find an outlet for myself, I decided to spend the next 5 months before Mexico using the first 30 minutes of my day doing an exercise video. While I am sure that doing side planks and push-ups were changing the way I looked on the outside, that first 30 minutes of the day was the only time of day that I didn’t have to worry about fevers and doctors. I just had to worry about my sweaty ponytail hitting me in the face, which was exactly just the kind of medicine I needed. 

That year, we had the first Christmas as a family that didn’t include a visit to the ER or medical clinic. Slowly, I started noticing that the atmosphere in our house and my heart were lighter, there was a lot less worry and a little more laughter. 

Emily is now 12 years old, the age the doctors felt she might finally have a chance at a normal life. To be honest, while I do not relish reliving those first few years of her life, I do feel encouraged to see how far we have both come. Emily has learned to ride the scooter, ride a bike, rollerblade and does cheerleading at school, and has a sweet puppy dog who loves her dearly. She has a smile and a heart even more special than I ever could have imagined when I first saw her. 

Taking my focus and just re-directing it for a short period every day seemed to make all the difference I needed to find a balance between being a good mom and a good Andrea. Do I think that me doing a workout for thirty minutes a day saved her life and made the fevers go away? No, not at all, but I do believe it might have been the start in saving mine!

Thank you for reading, I have missed you….

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Then Sings My Soul: An Update

A little while ago, I finally found myself in a place to start writing again. Sharing deep from inside my heart.

After going through that very healing and emotional journey of sharing with you all of what my family had been through, I realized what I needed to do next…

Share an update! The very reason I originally started this blog was for a place to vent, share and encourage others who were going through the challenges and changes of having a child who is sick and a safe place to talk about it.

And that is what I am going to write about tonight. An update on my favorite subject!!

Fireman!

Jk

EMILY 🙂

A little background to start off:

After we moved to Edmonton in 2009, Emily had a really hard time being healthy. She would be ok one morning when I dropped her off at daycare, only for me to be called around lunch time and told I needed to leave work and come and get Emily, because she had a high fever.

This would happen all of the time, three or five days to recover and then start over again. In the first 3 months of my new job Emily had strep throat, tonsillitis, a sinus infection and an ear infection. All with high fevers, little sleep and almost no work.

(The looking back is terrible folks… But don’t worry; the soul-singing part is coming :))

OK so fast forward a few years… This high fever and no break from sickness took its toll on my sweet girl.

Emily was diagnosed with an Immunity disorder that she would hopefully grow out of by the time she was 12. Well when you are 4 years old; being told you’ll hopefully feel better when you are 12 is NOT a nice thing to hear. She was being referred to a special home care program so that she didn’t have to be exposed to germs outside of the home. And at that point in her sweet life they were not sure about school or kindergarten.

Whatever sanity or personality that I had left, broke at that point. We were barely hanging on to this life I so desperately had planned out for us.

“For all Your goodness, I will keep on singing…”

And then.

Emily turned 5… And stopped getting fevers. She stopped being exhausted. Her usual gray skin started to get some color back. We registered her for Kindergarten!

I will never know what changed inside of Emily’s body to do such a drastic turn for the better… I have a few firm ideas of what might have happened but I won’t know for sure until I get to Heaven 😉

“Then Sings My Soul…”

Emily is now 9.5 years old.

She is in grade 4.

She knows how to ride a two wheeler bike and stick both of her legs out as she rolls past me.

She is funny. So funny.

She is beautiful, smart and really just a lot of fun to have around.

She is confident in her self worth, her Jesus, and that she is loved completely and wholly.

She loves deep fried macaroni balls, which are really yucky…

Last Summer she was determined that she was going to learn how to do a cartwheel. She practiced every day … She was bruised and grass stained in places that I wasn’t sure until that moment could be grass stained. On Saturdays, she would ask me to hold her legs up in the air while she tried to flip them over… she was so wobbly that I just started giggling and not being very supportive…. But she still asked me every time for help so I couldn’t have been that bad;)

By the end of the Summer, my mostly green stained daughter could do not just one cartwheel in a row, but cartwheel all the way down the green pathway to our car, ha-ha.

Emily is a true Joy to have in my life.

According to her blood work that she has to get once or twice a year, her immunity disorder is still very much a part of her build up. Just not doing anything… Just sitting there. I guess we could be scared about that possible scary flare up; it could stop being dormant….

However, we are just too busy enjoying and loving our life to worry about that ‘Someday’.

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Some might say… Our souls are too busy singing to be worried 😉

Thank you for reading,

XOXO Andrea

Fools Gold.

I grew up in a little town in BC… Imagine: rivers, mountains, green trees, forests, and fish.

My parents owned and ran a very busy and well loved telecommunications business that serviced, maintained and sold two way radios and equipment. Our Saturdays were spent staying at the shop with my Dad while my Mom worked on other things at home.

My sister would always be helping my Dad or reading, always learning that one 😉

And what was I doing? (I am sure people would like to know…)

Playing secretary of course.

I was the master at answering pretend phone calls and typing out fake memos on the typewriter and making really gross coffee that I am sure my Dad wished was fake.

On weekdays when there was no school, sometimes we stayed home with our Mom or sometimes we went with Dad on some kind of adventure. You see, part of the business was going up to the two-way repeater towers on the mountains and do repairs and maintenance on them. My Dad saved many of his adventures up to the towers to include both of us kids or sometimes just one of us.

I love my sister… But those one on one adventures with my Dad were always something else.

Depending on the weather and how hard of a climb up the mountain it was, was how the vehicle for the day was picked:

Sometimes we 4×4’d up the mountain in a suburban…

Sometimes we climbed up the mountain in a red caterpillar. This thing was intense, freezing cold for a while and the windows always seemed fogged up and full of our winter gear.

And sometimes when neither of these options would work, we flew up there in helicopters.

Most of the adventure was getting up to the repeater tower, because once we got up there, there wasn’t much to do while we waited for my Dad to work his ‘magic’ and for the picnic lunch that my mom would have packed us.

This one time that I went up with my Dad, I was wandering around the mountain top, there were so many rocks up there. I was busy picking up each potential treasure rocks I could find and checking them out to see if they were worthy of interrupting my Dad for.

 

I looked.

And I looked.

I lifted.

I threw away.

I searched.

I took a very risky mountain top bathroom break.

And I searched some more.

And then!

I fell off the mountain.

No, just kidding 😉

I FOUND GOLD!

“DADDY!”

“WE ARE GOING TO BE RICH”

 

It was such a beautiful rock. With golden flecks that flickered in the sun light totally convincing the untrained eyes that it was real gold. But it was… Just a rock.

FOOLS GOLD.

Its is kind of crazy to rethink that story now as an adult. At first I thought, oh well I would be so much wiser now. I would realize that it was just a beautiful gold look a like.

But you know what?

It is easy as a human to fall for the fakes and untrue. Especially about ourselves.

Have you ever thought something like this?

-I am a nothing

-I do not deserve to be a parent

-I really am a blond

-If God really loved me… then I wouldn’t…. so He must not really love me.

-I do a terrible job at everything.

-I’m not strong enough, I will never make it. Maybe…

-This world would be better without me.

These untruths are what we can set our eyes on, but be forewarned… They aren’t true.

They are lies set to fool you.

Instead, Seek First and set your eyes and hearts on the truths from the One who created us from inside the womb. And let me tell you:

He didn’t use any spray-on gold on you my friend!

The rock for the foolish did come down the mountain with me. I liked having it around as a motivation to keep searching for the real deal… And while it was a pretty rock, I knew that that was all it was. And I sure did have a great time looking for it!

Thank you for reading,

XOXO Andrea

 

A Time to Dance.

When my sister and future brother in law announced that they were getting married my parents decided to do one of the most romantic things I thought possible:

They took dance lessons.

For weeks they twirled, whirled, and toe stepped around the classroom with each other. For hours they practiced and learned together how to Rhumba, Waltz and Jive.

Then, after all of the hours practicing together, the wedding came and there on the floor I watched my parents floating around the dance floor showing off some major dance moves… Even better than my chicken dance if you can believe it 😉

Memories like that made it hard to believe there might never be any more dancing together. For a moment in time we just didn’t know.

After Emily and I went back home from our first visit down to see my mom in the hospital; life took a different turn. Gone was the stability and sameness that I have always appreciated about my family. I didn’t know when to call, if I was texting too much, if I had a problem could I still share? And when I did decide to share, did I overstep or overshare? Oh man, I felt as if I couldn’t make a single decision for myself without feeling as if I was making the wrong one.

During this time, my Dad started to share some photos of my mom. The doctors and the rehabilitation staff worked really hard to encourage my mom to try and walk. She was given specific goals and exercises to do each day to at first test the endurance, capabilities and strength of her legs; followed closely by exercises to build endurance, capabilities and strength of her legs.

She also had custom braces made for her legs. The slipped on and secured with Velcro to her calf muscle, her ankle and across the top of her foot. After they were secured she could put her running shoes on over top to assist her with walking.

After what seemed like way to long, I received this video of my mom walking in her braces and with her brand new cane that had butterflies on it.

(Sorry it’s not the video…)

Things speeded up after that, my Mom became even more determined than ever to get out of the hospital, there was no slowing down the amazing progress that my Mom made with my Dad there for support every step of the way.

Each photo and video was even more encouraging which eased this heaviness on my heart that I had been holding onto. And then finally the picture we were all holding our breaths for. The one of her finally getting to go home!

Now I didn’t get to be there when she got home, but if I had to take a guess, there might have been some seriously happy and relieved tears shed.

My Mom entered the hospital on March 2^nd, 2016 and was finally release and able to go home on April 14^th, 2016.

It was and still is an incredible journey for my Mom and Dad. My Mom moves a little slower than she used too. Sometime maybe a little slower then she would like to as well; that’s just the strong kind of woman she is😉

She tires easily and for long walking distances or for crowded places she needs to wear her braces. For around the home or places with an easy pace she does pretty well with her cane.

She has regular specialist appointments to check on the damaged nerves in her legs, and in the near future there will likely be surgeries to try and repair some of the damage.

A lot changed in those long 6 weeks. But there is one BIG thing that didn’t change….

Her loving smile and heart.

(Ok that’s two. But just go with it, ok?)

Something else that didn’t change?

The love my Dad and Mom have for each other.

The strong faith in God that they had during and after this near tragedy.

In the end, I dream that someday, at my wedding,

(…to a handsome firefighter… who I haven’t met yet… I really need to move my work desk closer to the firestation!!… see below for picture of me daydreaming…)

I hope to be standing there with tears running down my face watching the show stopper… My Mom and Dad waltzing around the dance floor, enjoying their time to dance.

Thank you for reading, 

XOXO Andrea

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Time to Act.

Out of all of the words of advice that you receive when you become a new Mom (and trust me there are lots of words of advice…) The one piece of advice that I could have really used no one ever told me.

“Children are not born with the instant knowledge and skills of how to ride a bike.”

For one of her early birthdays, Emily received this beautiful blue tricycle that had streamers and sang a really loud song that was sure to drive me crazy after a few times, but I didn’t care, this was my babies first bike! I was so excited for her to get on there and peddle all the way to Calgary.

As I placed my toddler on the bike the pride that I felt swelled into my chest and said:

“OK baby, just start peddling and lets watch you go!” And away she went…

No where.

I then said the most encouraging thing I could come up with:

“What do you mean you don’t know how to ride a bike? Just put your feet on and peddle.”

So Emily put her feet on the peddles, put the song button and away she went… NO WHERE!

Nowhere is a very discouraging place to be… Which is how I felt while I waited at home while my whole world broke down in front of my eyes.

You see, because:

After my Mom was found in the bathroom and sent to the hospital, it was discovered that she had almost no sodium in her body. She suffered… she suffered from intense swelling, bruising, loss of strength and normal body functions. She could not walk or get out of bed because the swelling that happened when she was laying on the floor did major damage to the nerves in her legs.

By the time Emily and I could make it down from Edmonton too much time had passed.

If there is something that I regret from this whole experience is not being more demanding that Leanne take me with her.

So that I could be there, and help, support. Just be there to do anything that I could to help and not be here alone and waiting for updates.

Over the next few weeks they flushed out the fluid from my Moms body, she started gaining a little bit of strength and had the support from my Dad and many amazing friends… Who I did and always will call our Calgary Angels.

We finally got to Calgary, and arrived and saw my Dad. I saw that he was quiet, so quiet, he seemed tired and stressed and not his normal self. As we walked into the hospital, I looked down at Emily and her sweet eyes were full of trepidation and worry. I looked up at my Dad and he seemed like he was just doing what he could to survive another day.

As we walked into my Moms room, I looked in and took a breath of relief. There she was, my Mom, and she was OK! She had shrunk down into this tiny thing and she had an IV. But she was there and I could finally give her a hug.

And I did, I hugged her, so tightly. I will never forget that feeling of praising God and thanking Him for saving my Mom. It was because of nothing that we did that she was still here with us. It was all Him.

For the next few days, Emily went to spend some time with my sweet friends and I went back and forth from my parents house to the hospital. I didn’t really know what my place was as the youngest daughter, except to be there if they needed me.

One day, I had brought some tea and some magazines to share with my Mom and she had fallen asleep. So I just curled up in the chair, reading and my Mom opened one of her eyes and said to me:

“Put your feet up Andrea, take your shoes off if you need too and relax, its important for you too.”

I was so touched that after all of this, she still was the ultimate caregiver. But I had a confession of my own to share:

“I cannot put my feet up Mom because I cannot take my shoes off! They smell too bad…”

The look that crossed her face as she settled back in was one of peace and understanding. And then she opened one eye one more time:

“When you get back to our house, ask Dad for some Baking Soda, and sprinkle that in your shoes. Then they will be ready for tomorrow for you to visit again and this time put your feet up.”

🙂

Being there and being able to help my Mom with whatever she needed was a task that this just came easy to me. Being there and being a support to my Dad was a little bit of a harder task.

As you read in Leanne’s post, she and my Dad are the strong silent type. Deal with almost everything inside and it is not until they are completely ready to share what is only to be described as wise and encouraging and worth the wait… But to someone with my personality sometimes the wait is almost killer.

So as I spent my days with my Mom, I spent my evenings praying that my Dad would just tell me what I could do to help him. Because I was dying to help with whatever he needed. I just wanted him to trust me that I was up for the task.

And then it came.

“Andrea, I really need a day at home. A day to go for a bike ride, do some cleaning, do some laundry and iron some of my work clothes.”

After picturing for a minute my Dad buried under the mountain of ironing he needed to do, I jumped up!!!

I mean, I calmly said:

“You got it Dad.” (Insert: Heart face, smiley face, blows kisses.)

The next day that was exactly what we did. I went to see my Mom, and I left my Dad looking little more relaxed all ready for his day to himself, full of high expectations of laundry, bike rides and which steam setting he should use on the iron.

The days flew by and all of a sudden it was time to go back to Edmonton, Emily returned from her fun weekend and off we went for our goodbyes at the hospital.

I thought it would be terrifying to leave, but I felt immense peace knowing that my Mom was receiving the best care and she was going to be OK We didn’t know what the outcome would be, but she was safe now. And my Dad had a little bit of a lighter look about him, so I knew he was going to make it too. As much as you can when your sweet heart of over 30 years comes so close to losing her life.

We still weren’t sure if she would ever walk again….

Or ride a bike.

Or drive.

Go grocery shopping.

The thing is, there is so much more to say about this, and I look forward to being on the healing side of this story as I write the closing blog: A Time to Dance.

Thank you always for reading, and supporting my family as we journey through this season of healing and sharing this story.

 

xoxo Andrea

A Time to Weep. Part 2

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out which kid I am in this photo. My sister and I have always been close and I will always cherish our relationship and being a part of each others lives. But… We handle most situations completely different.

Me: I wear my heart on my sleeve most days, always talking with my hands quite dramatically and if you are sharing your heart with me I will most likely have tears in my eyes and a hug ready for you.

Leanne: Keeps her heart protected and while she has a beautiful heart and a loving ear always open, it can take a little bit longer for her to trust you or a situation with her feelings.

I truly believe that there is nothing wrong with either way of handling things. They both work. But sometimes it can lead to frustrations on both sides.

“Your sooooo emotional….”

“Yeah? Well you don’t talk with your hands! So there….”

The reason I am sharing this little insight to our beautiful sisterhood is for two reasons:

1. Because below will be my sisters account of what happened the first 72 hours after the phone call. It is so honest and raw, and I was so proud of Leanne to be willing to share her heart like this.
2. And because this time in our family’s life was so devastating of a time, we all handled our grief in a different way.

As you continue to read, know that we are sharing this story because sharing is a part of healing. It is time that our internal and sometimes external weeping is turned into dancing.

XOXO Andrea

I was expecting a call like this. You know, one day when my parents were about 20 to 30 years older. The one you dread where time all of a sudden seems way to short, where each second apart seems wasted and full of regrets.

I did not expect it on a week night when my mom was a youthful 57 years old.

In times of trouble, I often find myself reeling removed from the situation. Emotions reigned in, just doing what needs to be done, trying not to think about reality til I get to the other side.

After the call, I go through the list. Cancel work meetings, email supervisors(what to even say? I don’t even know what I’m facing here), pack a bag, make arrangements for Izzy, talk to Andrea on the phone and promise to keep her informed. Oh yes, and call Dad. Who is in Europe.

I’m feeling a bit lightheaded and nauseous, wishing I could leave at that very moment, because the last thing I can imagine is actually SLEEPING that night.

But safety first, Derek reminds me, because it isn’t just me. I’m thinking for two again. Only 12 weeks in and I’m already exhausted from suffering from insomnia again.

Shaking, I call Dad and leave a message. How do I begin to tell him anything when I feel like I don’t even know anything myself? What are the proper words? I’m at a loss. I’m 34 but wishing I was 10 again and didn’t have to deal with stuff this hard.

Somehow Derek and I get Izzy to bed and go back downstairs to talk, to make plans, to wait.

An RCMP office calls me. He asks questions. Questions that I barely knew how to answer.

Especially not knowing what he is seeing. They question what has happened. Was she ill? Did someone come into the house? When was the last time I talked to my Mom? A few days ago, I said, when I was concerned that she wasn’t feeling well and asked if she wanted me to come stay with her.

The RCMP officer closes off the house. Really the least of my worries at that point. I can deal with it when I get there.

I’m finally “settled” in bed, reading in the hopes that sleep would eventually come. Even a little bit to help take the edge off. Knowing though, that I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep until I talked to Dad.

Kids, they are so sensitive to us, our moods, our emotions. That is never an easy thing, especially when you are going through something tough. You just want your kids to be good like they usually are and instead they are unsure and it brings out the worst behaviors or sometimes illness.

As a parent too, you have that sixth sense. So when I heard a sound, I was up out of bed before I had time to really register what it was. I got to Izzy’s room just in time for her to puke all over herself and her bedding. Thank goodness Derek was home and we’ve been through so much with Izzy, we just work as a team without thinking. One takes her to the tub. The other strips the bed. It takes a while, but Derek gets her settled down again.

About that time, my Dad calls. My message was not the only one. I don’t remember much of what we said. He couldn’t make it back any earlier than Friday from Europe. We talked about what little we knew. We made a plan to connect the next day once I was there and knew more.

My Dad and I. Two peas in a pod. Big hearts, stoic faces. Dealing with facts, what can be done, trying to be strong for everyone else.

We hang up. I’m actually drifting off when I hear that sound again. I dash to Izzy’s room in time to catch her puke mostly in the bucket. I remember actually crying on Derek’s chest. Letting him hold me for a minute, thinking this is just too much.

I sleep for a bit. Long enough I think, when I get up before 5. I’m in the car before 6, driving a road that I’ve driven hundreds of times. I leave in the dark and eventually get to watch the sun rise, usually one of my favorite things about leaving in the dark. It feels like the longest drive of my entire life though, despite empty roads. I pray, but it is senseless pleas that have no words. I’m exhausted and nauseous by the time I hit Red Deer. I feel guilty getting a second cup of coffee but my eyes are heavy despite the nervous adrenaline.

I continue on, nerves full blown, coffee burning my stomach, thinking ‘sorry baby’, unable to eat. I eventually get to Calgary and I feel like my heart will pound out of my chest. I battle the traffic as I make my way to the hospital, not sure exactly where to go, worried about what I’ll find. It takes every ounce of discipline I have to pay attention to the traffic, to not start panicking as I pull into the parking lot and circle around trying to find a spot. I park and think, finally, while sending a quick text to Derek letting him know I made it.

I follow the signs in to emergency and take my spot in line, trying to be patient as each person goes up to state their symptoms and go through the process. The standing is getting to me. I feel lightheaded and ill, having never done well in hospitals. I feel assaulted by smells and I break out in a cold sweat.

I’m finally at the front of the line, when a man walks in front of me, assisting a woman, about my age. She is clearly distraught and at first, I am sympathetic. They walk up to the window and I hear them speak to the nurse. A family member of the woman’s was brought in last night and she was only able to arrive this morning and doesn’t know what she will find.

I’m mad. I want to yell, WAIT YOUR TURN! How dare you assume that your situation is worse than anyone elses? But how horrible is that? I’m in the same situation, here, dying to know, afraid to know, trying to hold myself together, having spent an agonizing four hours in the car.

People might think me cold for the lack of tears, for the appearance of patience but I know if I start crying I might not stop.

Finally it’s my turn and they tell me where to go. I make my way back into the holding area of the ER. The people here are waiting for beds and my mom is in there somewhere. I have my glasses on so I can read the numbers above each bed area. I see the number I was told, but no that isn’t her. I wander by each bed, taking glances to see if Mom is there, also trying not to see the pain of those laying there, trying not to intrude, trying not to hyperventilate, trying not to panic. I don’t see Mom anywhere. I circle back around, again feeling like I am an intruder.

I stand in front of the bed they told me my Mom was in. They must have made a mistake. I didn’t see her anywhere here. And certainly not in this bed. Then the shape shifts and my stomach drops. I step closer to get a better view, afraid of disturbing the person there. Phew, not Mom.

But wait. That hair.

I shake. I’m dizzy. I might pass out or puke, I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m seeing at first, can’t reconcile it to the last time I saw my Mom, a few short weeks before. I know now that it is her in the bed.

Her breath is labored and at that moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she stopped breathing. It sounds like a harsh struggle for her to draw each one.

Her face, her body is unrecognizable. Swollen. Angry red. Bruised. Cut. Bloody.

I sink into a chair by the bed, head in hands. I’m definitely going to pass out. I know it, just like I’ve known it every time it has ever happened. The sight of blood does it every time but this is so much worse.

A hand on the arm saves me. Or a voice, I don’t remember.

It is our good friend, Brian, accompanied by our Pastor. I still think “our” Pastor, even though I’ve been in Edmonton for almost a decade. It snaps me out of it but I still struggle to keep myself under control. We talk, I know nothing. I haven’t spoken with a doctor, but with support by my side, I finally get some tidbits.

I hear that my Mom had no sodium in her system. I hear that she could have died if no one had found her. That they slowly have to bring the sodium levels back up. They are running more tests. They have no real answers. I think I remember little from the conversation. I remember asking what I could tell the RCMP officer, if a doctor could call.

I remember wondering what to tell my Dad.

I finally have to leave. To get a moment of air.

And get some orange juice before I do fall on the floor.

The rest of the day is blurred. Brief snapshots of memories.

The way my mom looked when she briefly opened her eyes the first time and saw me there, grasped for my hand but fell back to sleep.

The way I tried to feed her some oatmeal but she could only stomach a few bites.

The way I read to her as she drifted off yet again.

The way I sat in the cramped area for hours, afraid of what might happen if I left.

The people I spoke with, updated, the nurses, doctors, friends, and family.

Trying to know what to say to Andrea and Derek. How to describe what we were facing.

The way Derek reminded me to look after myself.

I talked to Dad at some point, trying to tell him what I knew. Which felt like nothing. Saying nothing yet about what Mom looked like. Not sure how to. Not wanting to worry him more than he already was. Making arrangements to talk later that night.

I talked to the RCMP officer, who would not allow me into the house until the doctor confirmed that my Mom’s condition was not because of an intruder. But the doctors wouldn’t confirm anything without talking to my Mom and she was not lucid enough to answer questions.

Finally, I had to accept that I needed to get some rest. The Burnett’s were coming to sit with Mom for a while so I felt a bit better about leaving. I needed to get out of the hospital for a bit but I had nowhere to go, since I couldn’t go home.

It isn’t easy for me to ask for help.

I’ve always been (or felt) self sufficient, prided myself on tackling things head on regardless of the cost. But I just couldn’t imagine a night in a hotel.

I have many amazing friends. I reached out to one couple and they brought me into their home. Little notice, open arms. I didn’t know if I could hold myself together. I’m forever grateful for the company, food and bed they offered.

Food and a hot shower go a long way into restoring a person, but I still had to wait up to talk to Dad. It would be the last time before his plane came in the following day and he came to the hospital. I read while I waited for him to call, checking the clock every minute to see if it was time yet. When he finally did and I updated him, I knew I had to say something.

I’d been avoiding it because my Dad has his own health issues and stress can be a big trigger. I was worried about him traveling so far with worries as his burden, but I didn’t want him to be blindsided.

“Dad, I said, you should prepare yourself. Mom, she does not look good. I don’t want to worry you but I thought you needed to know.”

“Ok, I appreciate it.” He says. Or something like it. What would I have said, I don’t know.

Us two peas, trying to hold it together.

“You should also know I can’t get in the house, I say. I am staying with friends but will try to sort it out tomorrow.”

We end the call. I go to bed. I won’t sleep I think, yet I fall into the deepest sleep I’d had in weeks. My body, done. My emotions, raw. My fear, intense.

The next day when I go to the hospital, Mom has been moved to a private room. I eventually find it, already more familiar with this hospital after a day in it. I’m afraid to go into the room at first, mentally preparing myself again.

But she looks better. Less swollen, less red, though bruises more vivid. Today, she knows who I am when she sees me. We can talk, a bit. I feel a bit lighter. That morning is still a blur. I wait to talk to the doctor. I question every nurse coming and going. I talk to my Mom, trying to piece together what happened.

The pieces of the puzzle start coming together. An ER visit a few days prior. They let her go home even with her still not doing well. Last thing she remembers is letting Caesar back in the house.

I talk to the RCMP officer, still a no go on the house. He wants to make sure there is no foul play. I respect the job he’s trying to do as I understand better than he could know how tough a job it is. But I’m frustrated. Tired. Worried. Stressed. Pregnant. Not the best combo.

I try to explain that my Dad is coming home soon and I want him to be able to at least sleep in his own bed. Again, denied.

Again, I leave a message for the doctor. I need them to call the RCMP.

More waiting. Watching the minutes count down. Going for walks when Mom is sleeping.

A blur of hours.

But what I won’t ever forget is Dad getting to the hospital. Seeing Mom. The way his skin went grey. The way I was afraid for him, but so glad he was there. The way I hovered over him, surely annoying him, making sure he ate his sandwich, had some juice, sat down and took it all in.

Our friend, Brian, was there, which I was grateful for. With his help, I again spoke to the nurses about the situation with the RCMP. Though I don’t remember the details, somehow through all this, it was agreed that there was no intruder and that the state of the house was the result of the distress my Mom had been in.

Grateful, I stayed to see my Dad settled and then left to see to the house before he came home.

I suppose I had given some thought to the house. I knew it wasn’t in a good state, though didn’t really know what I’d find. I was nervous to go in.

I walked around, slowly. In shock. I had been told, ‘blood everywhere’.

But what does that mean really, until you see it. Because there was blood everywhere. On the floor. Carpet. Baseboards. Counter. Bed. The bathroom where she was found on the floor.

Surreal is how it felt.

No fainting, I told myself, and settled in to work. I’m better when there are tangible things ‘to do’. Restless by nature, this helps me cope. To not fall apart. To keep going, long past when I should have broken down.

Stomach cramping and tired, I get to work. We can do this Baby. Just a bit more and then we can rest.

I have friends who deal with special effects blood for theatre. With their help, I begin to clean, wash, soak, blot blood. Trying to find every spec and eradicate as much as possible before Dad gets home. It takes me every last minute. And it still isn’t gone. But I’ve minimized the shock effect, I hope. Sheets washed, so he’ll have a clean bed. Dinner made, so he’ll have something to eat.

Did we talk? I think, yes, but he was tired, I was tired. I could only imagine how overwhelmed he might be. We agreed we would take turns the next day. I don’t remember who went when.

What stands out from that day is washing my Mom’s hair.

As a parent, I’ve carefully washed a newborn. The way you cradle their fragile seeming bodies, careful of temperature, drying their skin so tenderly. It was the same then, yet different. That feeling that somehow I am too young to be doing this, aware of how injured my Mom is. Afraid to add to the hurt, even as she is so grateful to get clean after all she has already endured.

I clean her feet, limbs, hands. Wiping away the leftovers, knowing the road ahead is uncertain and difficult. Answers will take time and not always be what we want to hear. Plans will be on hold, expectations needing to be adjusted.

Fear, ever lurking, ready to surface at the least uncertainty.

Me, the 34 year old child, telling my Mom what to do, out of fear for what has happened. For fear of the pain she is going through. Fear of the future.

I need to leave, to go to my own home. To take care of things there before coming back in a few days. I can hardly bear the thought. Both my mom and I cry, me not wanting to leave, her not wanting me to go. It is a crazy thing when the roles feel reversed. I am not ready to do that. Not because I don’t want to care for my parents, or out of some sense of selfishness, though goodness knows, I am selfish enough at times. But more because of what it means. I am lucky enough to have both of my parents around. Some friends have lost theirs at such a young age and I know I can’t begin to understand.

 I realize now what I’ve taken for granted is that they will always be around and this has been a rather sudden wake up call.