A Mother and Son Reunion

This is the second in an unknown number of rememberances from my nephew's stints at Children's Hospital. It's been eight years since his last surgery but to me it still seems like yesterday. Having no children myself, I never dreamed I would be spending so much time at CNMC. The nurses there will always have a special spot in my heart. No one in our family expected the newest son/brother/grandson/nephew to have any problems. Every baby born in our extended family had been fine. The shock upon learning of his numerous problems started us all on rounds of fervent prayers. Friends who belong to prayer chains also joined the vigil to support Alex, his family and doctors. Within days of her release from the hospital, Mom drove Janet to Children's Hospital. I met them there. Janet was bent forward in an effort to accommodate the staples in her tender belly. Riding the moving ramp up to the main floor from the garage, Mom and I worried about her being able to walk the distance to the NICU. She clearly was sore, but nothing was going to stop her from getting to her baby. The first few times I saw Alex in the NICU, I hadn't really noticed so many tiny and very sick babies in their own isolettes. This time, I felt like an intruder walking past family members in various stages of worry and hope. Janet was single-minded and shed just a few tears upon seeing and touching her cherished little boy. The sympathetic nurse who was caring for Alex soon had Janet seated in a comfy rocker and Alex in her arms. Mothers must have instincts beyond common knowledge -- she knew right away how to handle him and all his attachments! Also, for the first time, Alex opened his eyes. He recognized his mother's scent, voice or just her being there. That's when I lost it. It was also the first time I really felt hopeful that he would come through this terrible time. Observing my sister's extraordinary strength for the next three months and how Alex reacted to it is something I will never forget. I could fill an entire gratitude journal with the people and events surrounding Alex's recovery! CNMC nurses became part of our family during his two stays in the hospital. Their practical, professional approach to caring for sick babies gave me hope that Alex's situation wasn't as dire as I feared. The value of their gentle yet strong support of babies and families cannot be overstated. Doctors and other professionals came in and out of the scene and, of course, played important roles in his healing. Still, it was the nurses who helped to sustain hope. Perhaps their most valuable contribution is in encouraging and guiding parents to care for their own babies. For example: having a father change his preemie's diaper makes him feel less helpless and more pro-active. I do believe babies sense and benefit from a positive atmosphere. CNMC is simply filled with loving, skilled professionals who care for the most vulnerable among us. It truly is a gift to our region.

5:09 this evening

Children's Hospital Odyssey -- Episode I

Being a long-time member of DINK (double income no kids) society, I never gave much thought to Children's Hospital. We had no kids and siblings who did lived miles away. HA! I hope that my family's story will inspire more DINKs to donate to this extraordinary institution. You just never know. . . .

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In May of 2000, my youngest sister, Janet who lives 60+ miles from D.C., gave birth to her second son. It was immediately apparent that he had serious, life-threatening problems. His esophagus was attached by a fistula to his windpipe, making swallowing and breathing extremely difficult. In every other way, Alex looked like a healthy infant.

Minutes after his birth, he was ambulanced to Children's, leaving his mother, father and big brother miles behind. Janet told me later that she hadn't even had a chance to touch him. As she recovered from a C-section and Dad took care of big brother and the home-front, Auntie Peg (me) was designated Alex's official visitor.

As thrilled as I was about my new godson's birth, I wasn't sure I was ready to see him in the hospital. Eager anticipation turned to anxiety as I entered the hospital's garage. Clearing security, now wearing a fluorescent green badge bearing the iconic CNMC Teddy bear, I headed for the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). It took a few minutes to get clearance into the NICU inasmuch as I was not a parent. The first thing every visitor had to do was roll up her sleeves, remove jewelry and scrub her hands and forearms. I almost felt like a surgeon wielding the brush I'd always seen TV docs use. Having accomplished the several-minutes-washing-ritual, I pushed the button to open the door into the NICU proper. I was soon greeted by a smiling nurse who led me to Alex. The only way to describe his accommodation is as a clear plastic tub, lined with a thin mattress and cozy blankets. Above is a unit that contains a heating element and lights. Behind the baby's head are all the nozzles and apparatus one sees in an adult patient's hospital room. Wearing a receiving gown, his knees supported by a folded towel lay Alex. A huge tube ran out of his nose and he was out cold. Wires came out of his gown, but I really didn't want to know what they were. I stood and stared at his expressionless face and small body for quite a while. Some of his blonde hair had been shaved for a now removed I.V. line. A nurse caught me weeping and walked over to reassure me that Alex was doing fine. Ya, right! She said it was OK to touch him, but I was afraid to. After she left, I saw that his hands and feet were blue with cold. Aha -- my mission became clear!! The whole time I quietly sang to Alex and warmed his feet and hands, I don't think he was aware of anything around him. He never opened his eyes, moved or made a sound. Monitors assured me that his heart was beating and that he was breathing, but that was it. When I left after what seemed like only minutes, Alex's tiny hands and feet were pink and warm. I was comforted to know that I was able of help him at all. I reported this feat to Janet after I got home. She seemed pleased but I could hear her longing to get to her baby as soon as possible. Next episode: Janet's first visit with her new son. Please read more about Children's by clicking on this link Children's National Medical Center - Washington, DC . Feel free to make a donation, too. They never turn away a sick child for lack of insurance thanks to donations like ours.

Things I already miss about Summer. . .

. . . a cold beer on a hot evening . . . thousands of cicadas looking for love . . . the gentle tickle of a bee's wings flying near my leg . . . Cubs baseball . . . damp nighttime aromas of boxwood and distant flowers . . . salty-sweet smell of spouse's head . . . impromptu picnics at Hains Point . . . going outside to warm up when the AC is too much . . . silent, flickering lightning bugs . . . more daylight!

Foggy Bottom Tonight

the Kennedy Center

Water Color Sunset

As I was putting together a second family-tradition-Jello-mold -- because I left out a key ingredient in the first -- I caught sight of this sunset. It's a little blurry, but then so am I after a day of cooking and preparations.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

A Special Request

To my loyal readers, I humbly request your prayers and good thoughts for a blog buddy of mine. She has struggled for years to hang onto a pregnancy. Today, she is in the hospital because of pre-term labor. Her little bundle of female joy is a tender 23.5 weeks along. Megan and Steve are a loving, deserving young couple and will make wonderful parents. As Thanksgiving inspires us to ponder what we are grateful for, please add Megan and Steve to your prayers so that they can enjoy next Thanksgiving with a beloved little girl.

Way to go, Mr. Mayor!

For the one or two of you who sometimes read my ramblings, you may recall that last February I was involved with a fender bender in Washington Circle. I had no witnesses to attest to the fact that I was sitting still when a Metrobus clipped me, so I was found at fault. (The bus driver had a most energized witness.) The officer who issued my citation did not mark the amount of the penalty on the ticket, so I dutifully mailed in a minimum payment of $15.00. Shortly thereafter, I received a warning threatening all kinds of bad stuff if I didn't pay the full amount --$55 --within a few days. Not wishing horrible things to befall me or my car, I sent in a check in that amount, hoping everything would now be hunky-dory. Two months ago I received a letter from the D.C. Treasurer's office saying that they had discovered that the DMV owed me $15.00. WOW!! The check arrived today! If Adrian Fenty continues to reinvigorate and reinvent our government into an efficient, viable entity, I hereby promise to campaign for him when he runs for re-election. He has restored my faith in the D.C. Government!

"Pay it Forward" -- an early example

Dear Sir: Your situation grieves me and I send you herewith a banknote for ten louis d'or. I do not pretend to give such a sum; I only lend it to you. When you shall return to your country, you cannot fail of getting into some business that will in time enable you to pay all your debts. In that case, when you meet with another honest man in similar distress, you must pay me by lending the sum to him, enjoining him to discharge the debt by a like operation when he shall be able and shall meet with such another opportunity. I hope it may thus go through many hands before it meets with a knave that will stop its progress. This is a trick of mine for doing a deal of good with a little money. I am not rich enough to afford much in good works, and so am obliged to be cunning and make the most of a little. With best wishes for your future prosperity, I am, dear sir, your most obedient servant. B. Franklin [1784]

16 November 2007

This date fell on a Friday last year. The day before I had driven down to Mom and Dad's to spend some time with them. Dad was bed-ridden by then and no longer wore the eyeglasses that had been a permanent fixture on this face. He was staring out their bedroom windows. What he saw, I'm not sure. I commented on the high winds that day and said it would be a heckuva day to go sailing. He responded by nodding his head. He loved white-knuckle sailing. The next day I picked-up Patty from the airport and drove us down to Solomons for what would be our last day with Dad. The sun shimmered off the colorful leaves and we talked about everything but what we were facing. Coming from the Midwest, the leaves had already blown off the trees where Patty lived, but they were still brilliantly colored and attached here. That day in Mom and Dad's cottage in Solomons seems so short now. Pete and Janet were already there with Mom when Patty and I arrived. Mom was nervously fluttering around. That evening, Janet was the first to notice that Dad was close to the end of his struggle. Mom and Pete joined her, then Patty and I went in, holding our breath. When Dad was alive, I would never have dreamed of lying on their bed with him. As he gasped his last breaths, I crawled across the bed to hold his hand and once more stroke his crewcut head. We all voiced our love for him and our permission to let go. Tears were freely flowing and tissues were held to noses like dams. Mom gently closed Dad's eyes and Pete listened for a heartbeat. All the dams burst at that point and we let out all the fear and sorrow we had held in for weeks. As I held one of his big hands I thought about all the times they had comforted and constructed strong family bonds. At 6:15 this evening, I'll think about that day last year. The tears eventually will stop, but it's only been 365 days . . .

Monday Morning Blues

You know you're over the hill when you . . . . . . have to change your hair color on your driver's permit; . . . start looking for foods with high fiber content; . . . notice weird hairs growing out of your chin; . . . keep the thermostat set at 80 year-round; . . . no longer care about being called Ma'am; . . . appreciate and seek-out "senior discounts"; . . . shudder at the sight of the first snowflake; . . . select shoes for their comfort rather than style; . . . are offered a seat on Metro by a middle-aged woman; . . . cherish your thermal underwear over Victoria's scanties. Note: I am not yet over the hill, but some of these ring true already! ;o/

Simple Gifts

There is so much nature to enjoy this time of year. In addition to the glorious leaf coloring I like to watch the changes in light and cloud formation during sunsets. I took these over a period of a few minutes last evening.

Elephant Stew

When one works for a nonprofit that is known for feeding survivors of a variety of disasters, one's humor becomes slightly warped due to the massive quantities of supplies required to shelter and feed hundreds, sometimes millions of people. The following recipe is evidence of this. It came from a friend/coworker who had just returned from several weeks working on famine relief in Mali. She lost lots of weight because their rations were fish, water and more fish. During one of those long evenings after an even longer work day, someone came up with this recipe. (No elephants were harmed!) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The following will provide enough food for a mass-care facility when long-term feedings will be needed. The main problem will, of course, be the availability of the ingredients and the cooking time. 1 elephant, med. to large 300 Lbs. potatoes 200 gallons water 150 Lbs. carrots 50 Lbs. onions 35 stalks celery, leaves included 5 Lbs. parsley 10 Lbs. flour to thicken 1 rabbit* salt, pepper and other seasons to taste In large pots, bring water to boil. Use this time to start cutting up elephant into two inch cubes. Divide equally and add to pots. Boil for 2-3 days, until tender then add the vegetables, flour and seasonings. Cook for 3-4 hours more until vegetables are crisp/tender. Serve while hot. *Note: If this looks like it will not serve all the people in your shelter, you may add the rabbit. Be particularly careful however, because some people object quite strongly to finding a hare in their stew!

Oh! What a Beautiful Morning!

The sun may be struggling to break through thick clouds, but there is sunshine in my heart this morning. A majority of Americans proved their hearts are in the right place during yesterday's election. The jubilant celebrations of fellow Washingtonians at 14th and U Streets triggered tears and laughter at the same time. The tragedy that literally ignited that neighborhood 40 years ago was equal in magnitude to the thrill of electing of our first African-American President. I also watched the throngs in Chicago's Grant Park. During the summer of 1968, it was a place we were drawn to then from which we had to escape when the tear gas and batons came out. What a difference . . . May God continue to bless America and her new leadership. We are a special People and yesterday's election proved that we are capable of re-embracing our best values and qualities.