Sunday, March 6, 2011

Been awhile...

Months later...

I find it ironic that the last post was medically related.
Since then, many things have happened:
  1. Hunter has ear tubes and had pneumonia. 
  2. Kim and I lost a baby by miscarriage on Christmas Day. 
  3. We named him Patrick. 
  4. Then we lost another baby Feb 27, 2011.
  5. We named her Parker. 

Recently, we received a letter informing us that we've reached our catastrophic cap for insurance copays, meaning we don't have to pay anything else until October.

I wonder if we've hit our providencial catastrophy cap yet for this fiscal year?

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Medical

Having a sick child forces one to look in the mirror and recognize: you can't change anything. Oh, one can feel, one can think, one can act, but one can't force a sickness not to be. One can't take it into custody or beat it into submission by sheer force of will. At least, not typically, right? Even if we'd all wish such were possible.

I dislike feeling powerless.

I hate watching my kid cry as the doctor prods him and he screams remembering this particular woman drew blood from his ears the last time while exercising her poor bedside manner. "This hard wax will soften with application of warm water or olive oil," she said with a smile as she scraped his soft skin till it bled. I wonder why she didn't offer to soften up his ear wax before digging in herself?

Now Hunter knows her face and screams when she gets near.
Yesterday he shook in my arms as she examined him. No ear scraping, but he remembers and the simple ear check shook him. And what did years of medical training conclude was at cause for his fever, rash and month long repetition of the same: keep a journal so we have more info.

Today: Hospital.
I've taken my kid to the hospital more times than I care to count and most of the time staff are helpful. Our recent experiences with clinicians have been less than satisfying. He's run a minor fever several times a week for a month, had a persistent rash and is out of sorts--but they don't have an explanation.
No he has a lump near his thyroid. It probably isn't anything related to his thyroid but he's a year old.

Why a lump?

They took an ultra-sound, x-rays and smiled. "Look at my friends," said the ultra-sound tech as she ran her hands through the hanging Winnie-the-pooh and friends stuffed animals dangling from her ceiling. A nice touch, but while looking at the swinging toys seemed to interest my son, I wanted more than a smile. But answers don't come from the ultra-sound tech. 

I dislike how the system works: take a number, get in line, wait to see your doctor later. Yeah, that's right: the doctor who sent you to get the tests done doesn't see you on the same day, or week you get the tests done. That would make too much sense.

Waiting...
Wait some more and by the way, yeah, if they don't know after their standard tests, the answer is simple: "Babies get diaper rash, get fussy and its probably that 'bug' going round."

There are many ways to tell a parent softly they're a little over cautious, but I don't appreciate any of them, particularly when that isn't the case.  My kid is sick. Often. Why?

I wish I knew.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Bad Bauer

I enjoy watching the TV series 24. It isn't something one can recommend, very violent, very aggressive lots of tension. Its not for the faint of heart. The show's main attraction is the protagonist: he is very heroic.

However, I am sad to report that the most recent episode has killed, for me, any interest in watching further.

Why?
Bad writing. I HATE it when a character is killed without need. So many other people make it through terrible circumstances on the show and they decide to kill a particular character for dramatic effect. Very immature writing.
Who got 'Jacked?' Jack got 'Jacked'.

This is the last season and I guess they want to go off on a sour note. Jack has always been a tragic hero and I thought for one moment they would let him be happy. Guess not.


Josh

Saturday, April 10, 2010

A greater hymnist than most: Anne Steele

“Redeeming Love” by Anne Steele

Come heavenly love, inspire my song With thy immortal flame,
And teach my heart, and teach my tongue The Savior’s lovely name.

The Savior! 0 what endless charms Dwell in the blissful sound!
Its influence every fear disarms, And spreads sweet comfort round.

Here pardon, life, and joys divine In rich effusion flow,
For guilty rebels lost in sin, And doomed to endless woe.

In our first parent's crime we fell; Our blood, our vital breath,
Deep tinged with all the seeds of ill, Sad heirs to sin and death.

Black o’er our wrath-devoted heads Avenging justice frowned
While hell disclosed her deepest shades And horrors rose around.

Wrapt in the gloom of dark despair, We helpless, hopeless lay:
But sovereign mercy reached us there, And smiled despair away.

God’s only son, (stupendous grace!) Forsook his throne above;
And swift to save our wretched race, He flew on wings of love.

Th’ Almighty former of the skies Stooped to our vile abode;
While angels viewed with wondering eyes, And hailed the incarnate God.

The God in heavenly strains they sung, Arrayed in human clay:
Mysterious love! what angel tongue Thy wonders can display?

Mysterious love, in every scene, Through all his life appears:
His spotless life exposed to pain, And miseries and tears.
   
What blessings on a thankless race? His bounteous hand bestowed!
And from his tongue what wondrous grace, What rich instruction flowed!

The dumb, the deaf, the lame, the blind Confessed his healing power;
Disease and death their prey resigned, And grief complained no more.

Infernal legions trembling fled, Awed by his powerful word;
And winds and seas his voice obeyed, And owned their sovereign Lord.

But man, vile man, his love abused Blind to the noblest good
Blasphemed his power, his word refused, And sought his sacred blood.

Still his unwearied love pursued Salvation’s glorious plan;
And firm the approaching horrors viewed Deserved by guilty man.

What pain, what soul-oppressing pain, The great Redeemer bore;
While bloody sweat, like drops of rain, Distilled from every pore!

And ere the dreadful storm descends Full on his guiltless head,
See him by his familiar friends Deserted and betrayed!

While ruffian bands the Lord surround, Relentless, murderous foes;
Meek, as a lamb for slaughter bound, The patient sufferer goes

Arraigned at Pilate’s impious bar, (Unparralled disgrace!)
See spotless innocence appear In guilt’s detested place!

When perjury fails to stain his name, The mob’s envenomed breath
Extorts his sentence, “Public shame And painful lingering death.”

Patient, the cruel scourge he bore; The innocent, the kind!
Then to the rabble’s lawless power And rudest taunts consigned

With thorns they crown that awful brow,
Whose frown can shake the globe;
And on their king in scorn bestow The reed and purple robe.

Ah! see the fatal cross appears, Heart-wounding, dreadful scene
His sacred flesh rude iron tears, With agonizing pain.

Exposed with thieves, to public view Could nature bear the sight?
The blushing sun his beams withdrew, And wrapped the globe in night!

Then, Oh! what loads of wrath unknown The glorious sufferer felt;
For crimes unnumbered to atone, To expiate mortal guilt!

The Father’s blissful smile withdrawn, In that tremendous hour;
Yet still the God sustained the man With his almighty power,
   
“Tis finished,” now aloud he cries, “No more the law requires”
And now, (amazing sacrifice!) The Lord of life expires.

Earth’s firm foundation felt the shock, With universal dread;
Trembled the mountain, rent the rock, And waked the sleeping dead!

Now breathless in the silent tomb, His sacred body lies:
Thither his loved disciples come, With sorrow-streaming eyes.

But see the promised morn appear Their joy revives again;
The Savior lives; adieu to fear, To every anxious pain.

His kindest words their doubts remove, Confirm their wavering faith;
He bids them teach the world his love, Salvation by his death.

Triumphant he ascends on high, The glorious work complete
Sin, death, and hell, low vanquished lie Beneath his awful feet.

There, with eternal glory crowned, The Lord, the conqueror, reigns;
His praise the heavenly choirs resound In their immortal strains.

Amid the splendors of his throne, Unchanging love appears;
The names he purchased for his own, Still on his heart he bears

Still with prevailing power he pleads Their cause for whom he died;
His Spirit’s sacred influence sheds, Their comforter and guide.

For them, reserves a radiant crown, Bought with his dying blood;
And worlds of light, and joys unknown, For ever near their God.

0 the rich depths of love divine! Of bliss, a boundless store:
Dear Savior, let me call thee mine; I cannot wish for more.

I yield to thy dear conquering arms, I yield my captive soul:
0 let thy all-subduing charms My inmost powers control!

On thee alone my hope relies: Beneath thy cross I fall,
My Lord, my life, my sacrifice, My Savior and my all

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

A day that will last in infamy...

Hunter is growing, growing growing. The other day he managed to keep his feet when using the ottoman for support as he stood. He is eating so well now, gladly taking the spoon into his mouth with each of his two "solids" meals each day.

His hair is strawberry blonde and his eyes remain blue. Only time will tell if either of those will change.

Also, its been so many weeks since a blow out, a ramification, no doubt, of having eaten enough solids to pack his little intestine track with something serious to digest.

One of my favorite things is his attitude toward bathing. Hunter absolutely loves to bathe. Custom at this point has Hunter bathing each night after his evening meal. We've found bathing to be more pleasant and productive for him than a full body wipe down after wearing his food--what used to be the norm when we started solids.

Even though he's shifted to eating a good 80% of what comes on the spoon, he is a baby. What can you expect but smushed chicken and rice paste up the nose, in the hair, between every finger and covering the face?

Did I mention up the nose? Yes, you read that correctly--no need to read it again. Hunter snorted part of his meal tonight. But no worries grandparents, the little guy is fine. He gave it back later without complaint. He's good at sharing already.

Tonight bath time was running late. The whole of the evening was late, with Kim and I starving as a result. I fed the little guy, ran the water for his bath and got him cleaned enough for transport to the changing table for the standard strip search for the usual dirty diaper.

Thankful for the wet, dirty diaper, it was urine and a BM, I cleaned him up. Comforted by the fact he had went, I headed to the bathroom. Finding the water a little too hot, I got in and kept him above the surface while i ran som more cold.

To my surprise, Hunter decided to help out and started the yellow fountain.

I laughed and decided he had probably done that lots of times before. No harm--what kid doesn't pee in a pool at some point?

Kim came in a we shared a laugh at the situation, Hunter the all the while sitting calmly on my leg.

I tell you I got the water right tonight. It must have been body temperature because when Hunter pooped on my leg I felt nothing out of the ordinary.

It wasn't until I noted something dark and black sliding along the tub floor to my left that I realized with horror the pee was meerly a precursor of things to come.

Signs and portents came drifting my knee as I held him up and grimmaced at the evidence before our eyes.

Kim laughed and pointed as Hunter continued to relieve himself of more mass.
While Kim and I laughed, Hunter proved just how well developed his little bowls are.
  
#2 Bath
Oh fatherhood 
Has done me good
Blessed this Spring
With many a wonderous thing,
But never did I call
For yellow rain to fall
Nor the Hunter's dirt 
My toes to skirt. 
So it flows--
Drifting. 
Draining. 

Monday, February 8, 2010

Hunter's Stand

Today I made "daddy" history and gave Hunter his first chance (with me) to stand. I placed him near the couch and  ottoman where the two pieces made a corner. His little hands reached out to grasp the Ottoman's top and I let go. He didn't fall people, that means he stood on his own power, if only for a moment.
He was unstable, naturally, so I did as any father should and gave a helping hand. I put my palm beneath his diapered butt and offered slight support as Hunter giggled and wobbled, his chubby knees quivering.

As I gave him the aid he needed to stand, an act he desires to do solo but can't, I was struck by the simularity between my life as a Christian and Hunter's attempt to become a baby who can stand. I desire holiness but can't attain it. I desire to be pure and righteous, but my best works and deeds are inadequite rags compared to the God's perfection. Yet, He enables me to strive, to find courage to stand after falling and faith. His Spirit gives all these things and goes one further, providing me a quickened heart, that beats out a rhythm, desiring God. Here the parallel breaks down as Hunter has a desire to stand all His own.

But, who designed Hunter to stand? I suppose the same individual who put the desire for the highest good in us each. Even as I write I'm struck by how even that has parallels to Hunter desiring to stand as for him, perhaps his percpetions are such that what he sees as the highest good today is to simply stand.

Thankfully, life doesn't have to be one long string of achievements waiting to be had, a never ending ladder who's purpose is as empty as the threat that it simply is. We are more than this, being fearfully and wonderfully made. I hope that I can help others see the unanswered longing deep down in thier bones has a satisfying answer. I hope I can offer it as one person in process to another, one imperfect, sinful human in desperate need to another.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Divine Design

Today, Kim and I had our sit-down with Dr. Douglas of Covenant Theological Seminary. He is the local guru on personality profiling and how a person's profile impacts thier compatibility with various types of work.

Sound interesting? I found it to be more than interesting as it was immensely helpful.

To start this process Kim and I both completed our own 80 page packet that allowed us to self examine and come out the other side with a description of our strenghts and weaknesses.

While much of my results weren't that surprising, some of the categories we had to look through opened my eyes to weaknesses I hadn't yet named as well as outlets for strengths I've been at a loss to use.

Thanks to the gift of technology, I was able to use my MAC laptop to record the entire 2.5 hour session.

Kim and I are almost the exact opposite, but apparently, we're in good company as many seminary couples bound for vocational ministry are in the same position. Apparently we compliment each other in our giftings. I am weak where Kim is strong so she is able to help me out when i get stuck and vice versa. The one problem is, such is not easy. Being so radically different in what drives us can make for challenges.

However, there are great things like this example:

One of my weeknesses is a loud internal critique of myself. I can see lots of possibilities, its a gift. Turned back on itself I can see lots of ways things can go wrong. This often drives me to work harder than I need to on something and expect the worse.

I did that Thursday when I told Kim I expected to fail my Greek quiz on Friday morning. The situation was simple, I had new vocab and new grammatical structure I was given 3 days to learn and hadn't studied it at all--I simply had too much to do and I chose to give way on greek, knowing I could catch up on the weekend. I figured I'd take a minor hit with a failed quiz and move on.

In any case, Friday morning came and I reiterated my emminant failure. Sure, I had studied the night before, but you can't put off the study of a second language and get away with it, particularly when its stuff that doesn't exist in your own language.

Well, I got a 100% on my quiz. Kim kindly exhorted me about my false expectations and warned she would laugh at me the next time I forecasted doom.

When she asked if I'd learned anything I replied "I suppose the Greek quiz wasn't as hard as I expected."
Her response was simple but good for me to hear: Maybe the reason is that I am good at learning Greek and didn't need to assume I would fail if I missed out on a study session or two because I could catch up quickly.

I felt rather silly. That's exactly what I did. I missed out on some study and I made it up.

Thanks Kim for keeping me grounded!