Poor Health Care

Last night, I was taken to the ER with possible AFib. I didn't want to go in an ambulance because they cost so much but knew if we drove ourselves, we'd sit in the waiting room more than 6 hours before being seen. (Been there done that!) So I let them take me. 

Without going into all the details of ineptitude I experienced from hospital staff, I'll just say it was a very bad experience. I was at the ER until almost 2 AM (over 8 hours)!

It was freezing cold in there and I'm so glad I know how to unhook the machinery to get up and go to the bathroom, otherwise I'd have wet the bed. No one came to check on me regularly and I finally told them, at the 7 hour mark, that they could either discharge me or I was going to leave AMA. When I said that, through the call button to the nurse's station, I was told if I left AMA that Medicare wouldn't cover my ER visit. I checked on that and found it to be untrue so I called back and said if the doc wasn't there in the next 15 minutes, I was leaving. Funny how quickly that got their attention. 

I'm not nasty person but good grief. What happened to quality healthcare? Aren't nurses supposed to have hearts of mercy and want to have compassion on their sick or hurting patients? 

I always wanted to be a nurse when I was growing up. I have a heart for people. I wanted to serve them and be kind to them. But I decided a starting a family was more important. 

Our healthcare systems in the US are definitely not like they used to be. I think Covid had a lot to do with it. Many medical professionals left their jobs after the long hours and trauma they experienced then. I sure wish things would be like they were many years back where doctors and nurses loved their jobs and did their best to help others. Too bad we can't get housecalls anymore.

The Power of Fear

I used to wonder why the Bible says do not fear over 365 times. Pastors usually mention this in their sermons at some point during their career. Today, as I was experiencing some heart rhythm abnormalities, I started to become very fearful. The more fearful I became, the higher my blood pressure went. 

There are a lot of things you can control in your body, but you can't control your heart. Over the past few months, I've been dealing with possible AFib. If you don't know what that means, imagine having your heart beat really slow for a few minutes and then be really really fast and then start the same process over again. The rhythm is completely out of whack. It's extremely scary and can make you feel very light-headed and weak. Now can you see why I get scared? 

No matter what I tried to do, fear seems to overtake me. I do my best to remain calm. I'm a believer and I know that God is in control, but I don't want to die a heart attack. 

We have a huge history of heart problems in our family but none have ever touched me other than hypertension until recently. A few months ago, when something like this happened for the first time, the doctor determined that my potassium was very low and increased it. Then it got too high and they decreased it. More than likely, this is the problem right now but I won't know until my cardiologist gets back in touch with me. 

It's very frustrating trying to get in touch with your doctor's office only to be routed to a robot. I miss the days where you could talk to a human every time you called someone on the phone. That's not the case these days. As I typed this, I'm waiting for my doctor's office to get back to me. I've sent them a message through the portal, called and left a message with their office and I'm feeling very frustrated. 

I'm doing my best to hold on to the truth that God is still in control and that He's not going to let anything happen to me that He hasn't put into His plan for my life, but it's still hard and scary. I'm only human. 

Please say a prayer for me. I'd sure appreciate it. 

Ouchie ouch!

When I was a child, I learned a lot of silly songs. Sometimes those pop into my mind at random times of the day. Today, as I was feeling kind of crappy, this one came to the forefront of my mind, "The Old Gray Mare Just Ain't What She Used to be."I don't even think I knew what a mare was when I was a young child, but the tune was catchy and we loved to repeat it during camp outs as we sat around the campfire when I was in Girl Scouts.

I finally figured out that a mare was an older horse, one that wasn't able to pull it's weight anymore, one that'd soon be put out to pasture or shipped off the glue factory. And that's just about what I feel like today. 

Almost everything in my body hurts. It's been a tough year for me. I've been through many medical procedures and I can tell my body is flashing red lights of warning. My time is growing short. Aches and pains are part of aging, but they sure do suck! I'd give anything to wake up from a good night's sleep and feel refreshed again. Instead, I toss and turn all night praying for sleep to come. After a few winks, when I crawl out of bed, I'm conscious of every limb and organ. But what can you do? You have to push through, just like an old mare plodding through a muddy field. And that's what I do. 

My youngest daughter keeps telling me I need a good massage. She says it will help my body feel better. I've never had a massage in my life. I don't like people touching me. She says it's always done very professionally, but I just can't. 

Maybe on our next cruise, instead of soaking in the hot tub and wishing I could stay until I turn into a big prune, I'll be brave enough to enter the spa and ask for a massage. Until then, I'll keep gulping Tylenol, using my heating pad, and try to think about things other than aches and pains. 

This afternoon, as we were driving through the countryside, I was looking at some beautiful farm land. I didn't see a single old, gray mare. I did see lots of young, healthy horses grazing on lush, green grass. As their tails swished back and forth, I imagined they were happy. Without a care in the world, they were soaking up the sunshine, feasting on sweet grass, and had no worries whatsoever. 

I'd like to be a young filly again but it's too late. Those years are long gone. Thank God for Tylenol! At least it helps a little and this old gray mare will just have to take more rest breaks during the day when she needs them. I guess that's okay...

 

 

Simple things can spark big memories

 

On Resurrection Sunday, one of the most holy days for believers, we made plans to attend one of my daughter's churches. It was also going to be a very special day for me because my youngest granddaughter was getting baptized. 

 

As I got ready for church, I was going to wear a dress. Since the weather had turned warmer, there was no need to wear slacks anymore. But there was a problem. My legs were lily white. I hadn't been in the sun much and those limbs would be visible, even if I wore a mid-length skirt as I usually did.

Digging in my drawer, I looked for a pair of panty hose. I hadn't wore any in ages. I hated them! No luck. So what was I to do? Tights, yes! I had a pair of black ones. 

 

I took them out and looked at them. They'd only been worn once. They were thin, more like hose than regular tights which were thicker. I knew, with my rough hands, I'd surely snag them when donning them, so I dug in the drawer again. I knew they were in there somewhere...my mother's satin gloves.

When we were growing up, I used to laugh as I'd walk by her bedroom door as she got dressed for church. She'd be wiggling into her panty hose trying not to snag them. After getting a run or two, she'd throw those away and then, she'd slip on a pair of satin gloves and start over smiling as she pulled them on without any issues. Afterward she'd don a griddle so cinch in her waist and hips. Boy, she went all out to look her best, even though it took a great deal of effort to prepare before hurrying us all into the car so we wouldn't be late. 

 

As I slipped on the gloves, I thought of all the Easters she worked so hard to make ours special. We always got frilly little dresses, lace topped socks, and shiny, black patent leather shoes. My brother got a cute little suit and tie. We looked polished and spit shined when we graced the church doors. 

 

After service, we had an Easter egg hunt with homemade boiled dyed eggs. Often we'd have a prize egg with a dollar or two in it. And those baskets with the skinny plastic green grass- so special! 

 

I got my tights on without a snag and headed out to my daughter's church for a most special service. Watching my sweet granddaughter descend into the baptismal pool, stand with the pastor and pray, then be dunked beneath the refreshing waters was amazing. But what touched my heart most was watching her rise, thankful...renewed...spiritually one with Christ. 

 

After her Mama had gotten her dried off and dressed again, she came out from behind the baptistry and had given me the bestest and biggest hug ever. "I love you so much, Sweet Pea," I whispered in her ear. Then I handed her a gift bag with a tiny silver cross inside. I told her I wanted her to wear it to remind her of this special day - the day she was baptized, but also the day we celebrated the resurrection of our Lord. She smiled and gave me another hug before telling me she loved me, too. 

 

I could almost see Mama smiling down from heaven. I was thankful she'd made sure to always see that we'd grown up under godly teaching. Being raised in the church is special, but learning who we were in Christ was even more important. And we did! 

 

I am so blessed all of my children and most of my grandchildren have already made professions of faith. We're still praying for the youngest ones to come to a saving knowledge of the Lord. If you have unsaved loves ones, please don't ever stop praying for them. It make take years for them to make the decision to let the Lord reign and rule over their lives. Your prayers can make a huge impact on them, but your godly example can speak volumes to them, too. And who knows, maybe something as simple as a satin pair of gloves will bring back special memories to them one day like my Mama's did for me. Love them hard and don't apologize for it, ever.

Leaving the past behind

Today was Palm Sunday. We celebrated with one of my daughters and her husband at their church. On the way home, we stopped by our old house. We always feel nostalgic when we pass that area of town and stop by as often as we can. But today when we passed, we were dumbfounded. The man who'd purchased the home last year had taken down all of the trees on both sides of the house and in front of it! He'd totally decimated the property! Our house used to be lush and green, filled with beautiful trees! I loved those trees! They gave us lovely color in the fall and soothing breezes in the summer. As we looked over the terrain, my heart felt crushed. One of the reasons we'd purchased that home in the first place was because of the huge wooded lot. I couldn't understand how someone could destroy God's beautiful creation so easily and quickly. 

We pulled onto the gravel road beside the house and saw the new owner out in the yard. I rolled down the window and called out to him. I told him we'd been driving by and had seen all the work he'd done. He was congenial but I could tell he didn't appreciate us stopping by and especially didn't appreciate me taking photos. I explained I had snapped a few photos because of the drastic change and hoped he didn't mind. He indicated he understood, but seemed annoyed. Then, we began talking. I've always tried to remain friendly with him through texts and emails after selling our home. I wanted to keep a good relationship and be able to answer any questions he might have about our beloved property. When I mentioned the loss of all the trees, he said he'd paid $21,000 to have 95 trees removed from the property. My mouth fell open. He must have been surprised at my reaction because he immediately tried to smooth things over saying he had big plans for the place. I asked what he planned to do and he said he was going to plant sod and add plants the deer wouldn't eat. I tried to imagine how beautiful it might look, but it was hard to see it in my head without the lovely shade of the big oak and pine trees. We'd planted so many things right after purchasing the home - blueberry bushes, daffodils, lirope, amaryllis, mexican petunia, iris, etc. We'd enjoyed it and planned to plant many more things before deciding to sell, but didn't get around to doing all we wanted last year. 

We said our goodbyes and drove away. I fought tears all the way home. It hurt to see the mutilation of our beautiful property, but it wasn't ours anymore...God reminded me. 

When we got home, I went into the bathroom and cried. I cried for my old house, the one we'd loved for over 10 years. It was my third home. You'd think I would have been used to leaving a house by now, but that one in particular, held so many memories - both good and bad. I didn't know why it hit me so hard, but it did. After a good cry, and seeing myself looking like a raccoon in the mirror from the streaks of mascara down my face, I felt God prick my heart..."Forget what lies behind and press on toward what lies ahead." I was familiar with that passage - Isaiah 43:18-19, but it was so hard. 

It seems the older I get the more difficulty I have with change. I want to cling to the things I'm sure of. I don't like uncertainty. I like to be in control...and I think that's what God's trying to remind me - I never have been in control and I never will be. Only He has my future mapped out. 

Yes, I can make decisions. I have free will. Some of them will be good and some of them won't be so good. Some I'll be okay with and some I'll regret, but I can't dwell on the past. I have to move forward, even when I don't want to...

I've often wondered, if some of those people who lined the road with palm branches for Jesus, as He entered Jerusalem, ever felt remorse later on. They were so ecstatic to think their new King was coming and then, when they discovered He wasn't who they thought He was, the yelled and spit at Him, mocking Him with hatred and disgust. But when they saw Him, bloodied and beaten, hanging from a tree, did any of them feel the tiniest bit of regret? Did they wish they could take back any of their actions and get a giant "do-over?" Probably not. 

The sale of a house is a commonplace thing. People choose to do it all the time. Perhaps a person has outgrown a home and needs a larger one or vice versa. Maybe they're tired of living in a specific city and want to move to be closer to family. It's not usually a big deal. A crucifixion is a rare occurrence these days but was commonplace in Biblical times. The big difference was crucifixion was normally thrust upon someone without their consent, except in the case of Jesus. He knew it was coming. He did nothing to stop it. He went willingly and obediently to the cross. And He never looked back with regret. 

Oh, that doesn't mean He didn't remember it. Surely He did. Remember when He held out His hands to Thomas and said, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe"? He remembered and wanted to be sure Thomas did, too. Poor humans have to see to believe sometimes. God understands that and gives us grace. 

And I think God knows when we face disappointments, like I did today, that's why He reminded me not to focus on things of the past. He also reminded me this world is not my home. I'm just a temporary resident here. That made all the difference. 

In closing, I heard Cat Steven's song, "King of Trees" playing in my head. Such significance in the decimation of our old property and the sacrifice made by Christ...

Everyday Devotionals Bonnie Annis

It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do for a body

Insomnia sucks! For the past few years I've been struggling with it but over the last several months, it's become unbearable. Trying to function on 3 or 4 hours of sleep has been challenging. Not only have I been physically exhausted, I've lost mental clarity. 

I have tried everything in the book. No amount of herbal remedies or bottles of melatonin have worked. Even adding in Sleepy Time tea hasn't helped. Finally, at my wit's end, I made a call to my doctor. I was desperate. Thankfully, he listened and was willing to help. 

When the pharmacy called and said my prescription was ready, I was hesitant. I didn't want to have to take a medication to fall asleep, but when you can't make your brain stop, what do you do? 

Last night, I slept for 8 and 1/2 hours! That's the first time I've done that since I was a teenager! I woke up feeling rested and ready to face the day. I was so thankful. 

It's amazing how sleep affects one's ability to function. I think that's one reason a wartime strategy against prisoners of war is to deprive them of sleep. When they can break one's physical stamina, they can break the mind, too. 

I've read that the older one gets the less sleep a person needs, and while that may be the case, 3 or 4 hours is definitely not enough. 

I'm glad there's something to help, even though those types of medication can cause one to become dependent or even addicted. If you're suffering from insomnia or have suffered with it in the past, you know the importance of using medication like this responsibly and only for the period necessary to get your body back on track. If you've never had an issue with sleep, God bless you! You're one of the lucky few. It's so important to take care of yourself and that includes making sure you get a good night's sleep.

Childhood Memories

It's funny the things you remember on a warm afternoon. Today I was thinking about my childhood and all the wonderful things my parents did to make it special. Money was tight as we were growing up so little extras always meant a lot. 

I remember one year when I was six or seven. Easter was coming and everywhere we went we'd see these tiny little chicks for sale. They had been dyed bright, beautiful colors - pinks, blues, greens, purples, and oranges. My sister, brother, and I thought they were the cutest things ever and begged for one of those little chicks. We promised the promises all little children make when they desperately want an animal - the promises to feed, clean up after, and care for the tiny creature. We whined and begged pulling on Mama's dress hem. The answer back then was always, "We'll see." We learned quickly that hint of hope usually meant "I'm sorry, we just can't afford it right now." But this one year, was different. Mama must have discussed our financial situation with Daddy and they'd found a way to grant our heart's desire. 

The following week, while out shopping with Mama, we passed a store with a huge crate full of colored chickies. Mama, instead of shuffling us away from the crate, walked with us toward it. Our eyes were big as saucers as we realized our desire to own our own chick was about to be fulfilled. Reaching down to touch the soft, downy fur of the baby chickens, Mama looked up at us and asked each of us which color we'd like. I don't remember who chose which color bird, but I do remember how surprised we were to understand that each of us would get to take home our own little chick! 

After we'd made our selections, Mama paid for our chicks and we headed home. We had each been given a tiny little box with round little air holes poked in it so our chick could be kept safe for travel but also be able to breathe. All the way home, we giggled and laughed at the little peep, peep, peeps calling out from the boxes. When Daddy got home from work, we couldn't wait to show him our prizes. I think he got as much or more enjoyment out of the baby chickens than we did. 

We took care of our little birds as best as we could but they eventually died. Perhaps it was because we didn't have chicken feed, or perhaps they had been affected by the dye, we really didn't know. It was a sad lesson for us as children. But there was another lesson we learned from the chicken story and it's one I didn't learn until much later in life. The lesson I learned, as I thought back on this many years ago, was that my parents wanted to give us good things. They wanted to bless us and shower us with gifts. Although finances prohibited them from doing all the things they wanted to do, they did what they could. 

What a great reminder of our Heavenly Father's love. If our parents knew how to give us good gifts and made sure to provide all they thought could make us happy, how much more would our Heavenly Father do for us?  The Bible says, "So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him." Matthew 7:11

We may have never gotten those little chicks if we hadn't kept on asking and begging for them, but since we did, our parents heard and answered. The same truth goes for us when we bring our petitions before God. We need to keep on asking because He wants to give us good gifts! He wants to bless us. 

The tiny little feet of the baby chick still tickle the palm of my hand. I can still feel the downy softness of the feathers against my check. And every year, as Easter comes, I can't help but think about the sacrifice my parents made to buy us those chicks. Oh, they probably only cost a dollar or so each, but that was a lot of money back then and could have been used to buy something much more important but love makes sacrifices. Their love was great but God's love was even greater. Their sacrifice was heartfelt but the sacrifice Jesus made for us on the cross was incomprehensible. 

What do baby chicks have to do with Easter? Nothing really. They might symbolize new life but other than that, they're just plain cute. When they grow up, the cuteness leaves and the chickens end up as dinner on our plates. 

This year, when you think about Easter, perhaps you'll remember my story of love and sacrifice but instead, I hope you'll think about so much more...think about Jesus. Think about His love and His sacrifice.