Attempting to Age with Some Grace

I like to think I am young and spry but my gray roots, eye wrinkles and longer run recovery time suggest otherwise....oh, and then there is that birth certificate thing. To compensate, I color my hair, try not to smile to increase the wrinkles and after 20 years, I have started stretching before and after I run. As great as these solutions are, they aren't enough.

In the past year, I have seen patients come in who haven't been to the doctor in years. They come in for a nagging pain that won't go away and less than 24 hours, they have had part of their colon removed and have a new ostomy. If you don't know what that is, look it up. If you are squeamish, look it up anyway. I don't want that to be me. Ignorance when it comes to your health is not bliss. My family health history sucks so that, combined with my job and what I see, causes me to try to be a bit more proactive with my health. When you are 40+ this means more than eating your fruits and veggies.

I decided I should get a skin check. I see a dermatologist fairly often anyway because even though I have aged, I swear I still have teenage acne. My skin is not my favorite feature. I have rosacea and eczema. I get heat rash when I am in the sun too long and various plants give me rashes. I am sure my Scottish heritage or my parents or someone is to blame for this but it is what it is. At my skin check, my dermatologist finds a mole he doesn't like and ask me how long it has been there. I HAVE NO IDEA. 20 years? 20 days? If it is not bleeding or painful, I don't pay much attention. He decides he wants to remove it. Right then. Being one for efficiency and time management, I agree and off it goes. I get a call back a few days later. You know when they call and ask you to call back instead of leave a message, it isn't normal. Turns out the mole isn't melanoma but it is atypical and they need to get the margins around the mole (read: cut some skin out). Today I am less one mole and some surrounding tissue and have a cool incision that might win me some points with my middle schooler.

Here's the thing..this is not an "eat your vegetable post." I don't eat all my servings a day although I do have a new affinity for brussel sprouts. There are other things we need to be doing once we edge closer to 40 and 50. So, humor me for a moment. Get your skin checked. Schedule your mammogram and your colonoscopy. Get to know your doctor. These are not hard things. This year I have been poked, squished, prodded and now cut. Big deal. If all of these minor discomforts allow me to be around longer for my beautiful little people - totally worth it. And if keeping up with my doc saves my colon or any other part of my body later, awesome.

Making Peace with the Voices

One of my favorite songs this past 6 months is Rhianna and Eminem’s The Monster. Odd considering that I have sensitive ears and both would often cause me to turn off the radio. This song makes me think and has a catchy and true chorus. I find I can’t help but sing right along with it - well, until Eminem starts yelling.
 
When all is right with my world, I AM friends with the monster under my bed and I do get along with the voices in my head. When I start fighting with them is when my world unravels. I know this comes as no surprise to those that know me, but I doubt myself all the time. I lose my cool when I shouldn't, I am nervous in big social situations and I tend to be anxious about what may come to pass. I often don’t feel good enough, smart enough etc. etc.
 
I am not alone. There is too big a stigma on mental health. Mental health is just as important as physical health but often we don’t address it because it is much less comfortable to talk about anxiety and depression than a cold and flu.
 
I have learned a secret these past few years working as a nurse that I want to share with you...More than half the people I see the hospital have mental health diagnosis in addition to their physical ailments. It’s true. Generalized anxiety and/or depression are the most common ones but I have also seen bipolar, anorexia, schizoaffective disorder...to name a few. That being said, I wish there was less of a stigma talking about it. It’s real.
 
Putting my patients aside, even just in my small circle growing up I had family and friends with eating disorders, anxiety, seasonal depression. I won’t lie...when I look at a patient’s history and see bipolar or something similar, I feel more wary entering the room. I am not quite sure what I am going to find. Honestly, more often than not, I find someone who doesn’t look that different than me. An individual with bipolar doesn’t necessarily mean they are either in a manic or depressive state and there is no in-between. Or, if they are on medications that are working effectively for them, they might not look any different than anyone else you come into contact with.
 
 

One lesson I am working on imparting to my kids that I hope sticks is that different doesn’t have to mean scary or bad. We all have our issues and for some the mental health issue is bigger and less manageable than others. Our brains don’t all work the same. Some will need interventions and possibly medications to manage their monsters and that’s okay. It’s okay to talk about the monsters.

 

I have a lot to learn in the area of mental health. I know my own experiences but for everyone who struggles in some area of mental health, it looks different. I will only know their story if we talk about it. I can’t assume to be an expert on anyone besides myself - and that’s questionable anyway. I was talking to a friend about ongoing sleep issues we have had at our house and how we address them. She thanked me for being so open. She said she would have thought she was the only one struggling with this if we hadn’t talked. Let’s keep talking so nobody feels that way.

 

Hugging my Porcupine

I have a book by the side of my bed "How to Hug Your Porcupine." It has been there at least a year. I have read parts of it. I need to read all of it but just can't seem to find the time since I am too busy arguing with my porcupine. The premise of the book is how to connect with your surly, unpredictable tween.

I hate to break this to you....but middle school is even harder the second time around. I didn't care for it much when I was in it. I was a pretty good kid but in middle school even pretty good kids can be nasty, impulsive and full of drama. I had no idea it would be even harder being a parent with a middle schooler. It is. I feel like I am in an argument from the time I get up until bedtime. I know....I have read all the books. I am not supposed to engage in the argument. I am supposed to let him do his thing and just sit back and smile and wait for the natural consequences. I KNOW this. But, guess what?  I can't DO this. As much as I read and I try, some things I just can't let go.

I find it hard to just stand by when he tells me he didn't bring his lunch because I didn't tell him too. Or he tries to open the car door when we were on the freeway because I have never told him not to (this really happened). School itself is going well. I think much of the surliness is saved for home because those middle schoolers are too busy just surviving and navigating during the day. I have to give them credit, it isn't easy what they are doing. Schoolwork is getting harder, kids are trying to figure out who there friends are and there is just so much to process. I am glad that if my middle schooler is going to pick on someone, it is at home instead of at school. To be honest, I do wish he would pick on Michael more than me but I know why he doesn't. Most of the time Michael can remain cool as a cucumber. That's not really my style. I am probably more jalapeno than cucumber.

If I believe everything that my middle schooler tells me than the following are true:

I serve leftovers too often.
I only work part-time (I guess 72 hours a week must be full time).
I miss too many soccer games (because of my part-time job).
I am not the sharpest tool in the shed.
I am wrong more than I am right.


Fortunately I can still beat him in pig 50% of the time and I can run farther (not faster) than he can so I have a tiny bit of credibility left.

I don't believe everything that comes out of his mouth and in my better moments, I recognize that he doesn't believe all these things either. He is just figuring things out and his family is the safest place to test his ideas, thoughts and convictions. I get all this. I am also sensing that I passed along more than just my blue eyes, decent height and love for carbs. One or both kids (generalized to not implicit the innocent) have picked up my type A personality, my introvert tendencies and possibly (I will deny it if you ask) some anxiety. It's hard to know that you may have passed some of your more challenging traits on to your kids.

A friend mentioned to me the other day that she thought it was supposed to get easier as they got older. I thought so too. In some ways it does. My kids can make a meal, dress and bathe themselves. All good things. They mostly sleep through the night and we can have discussions about things that are going on. I love that they are more independent and we can have real conversations. But, I am afraid it doesn't get easier...it just is different. Finding ways to connect becomes even more important. Knowing what's going on in their head is a little trickier. We will make it through. I will finish reading the book and one day I will be so proud of myself for successfully hugging my porcupine without getting quilled.

Finding and Losing Nemo

When we lost our beloved golden Belle three years ago, we were all devastated. She had been part of the family before there were even Bonn kids. It took three years for us to agree to get another dog. Some family members were more agreeable to a new fuzzy friend than others. After the initial grieving for Belle, we started to notice it was nice to not have the hair balls rolling across the floor and we didn’t always have to make sure we were home at a certain time to let the dog out. We missed the fuzzy snuggles and family walks but we started to adjust to life without a four legged friend. 

Well, I should say three of us adjusted and one continued to pine for a dog. Audrey would put “dog” at the top of every birthday and Christmas list. She would attach leashes to her stuffed animals and walk them around the house. When she resorted to making a dog out of cardboard, Michael and I decided maybe we really did need to add another dog to our family. 

 On her 10^th birthday this past summer we told her we would start looking for a dog – much to her extreme delight. We have a lot of requirements so we reminded her it might be awhile. I refuse to get a puppy. Belle was a tough puppy. Besides the housebreaking – she chewed wood, dry wall, my leg, anything. I know my limits and a puppy I couldn’t do.

We are partial to Golden Retrievers and Labs so we signed up with a Golden rescue organization. After completing a very lengthy application and having a phone interview and a home visit (I am not kidding), we were found to be a suitable home. Phew. If we are raising kids here, I would like to think we are suitable to raise a dog as well. We were told if we agreed to “foster to adopt” a rescue, we would probably find a dog sooner. My experience with Goldens is that most are not aggressive and good with kids so we said we would be open to the idea.

Then came Nemo. The organization we are working with has been getting some of their dogs from Taiwan. I guess there are a lot of dogs running “wild” in Taiwan. The picture of a pack of wild goldens on the loose kind of cracks me up. Will they lick you to death if approached? We were called and told that four dogs were arriving from Taiwan and did we want to foster one? We got their pictures and the kids agreed on Nemo. All we knew about him was that he was housebroken, had his shots and was somewhere between 4-6 years old.

When Nemo arrived a few things became immediately clear…he was malnourished, on the upper end of the 4-6 range and not really housebroken. The first day he had an accident in the house I figured it might be related to the stress, long flight, drugs I am sure he was given to make said long flight, etc. etc. The accidents that happened every day after were harder to explain. We took him to our “welcome to the states” vet visit to learn all the baggage he brought with him. After talking to the vet about his ear infections and skin infection, he broke the other news. “I hate to tell you this but I am not looking at a 6 year old dog. I would put him at closer to 9.” Um….9? Well, we did think the cataracts might be a dead giveaway. I was willing to look past the white face because some of us are just prematurely grey… Hmmm. 9 years for a golden is closer to a senior than middle aged. My kids looked at my in complete surprise. We had made it very clear we didn’t want to foster a senior dog because we had just done the senior dog thing and it was hard. We want to enjoy a dog for longer.

We decided to remain open minded as we tried to beef Nemo up and get him to stop using the carpet as a bathroom but in the end we knew, sadly, that Nemo wasn’t the right fit for our family. Nemo now lives on an enormous property with other dogs. The new foster mom did tell me that it wasn’t just me and he does need continued work with housebreaking and has tried to eat their pet squirrel. Our house feels a little empty without his enormous feet padding around. I am hopeful that our wait for our next potential fuzzy friend won’t be too long and in the meantime, I think we will put down some hardwood floors.

Hanging on by More Than a Thread

It appears I didn’t write all summer. I also didn’t grocery shop, complete 1 book or plant any new flowers. I am thinking survived probably sums up the summer more than thrived. I didn’t do half the stuff I was hoping to but I was better rested than last summer, my kids are still on speaking terms with me and each other, and they grew so I must have feed them something right. 

I feel like in most areas of my life the past few months I have only been just getting by…just hanging on. Even at work it seems a bit harder than normal. Not harder in the skills sense – although I swear I learn something new or see some new contraption every week – but in the feeling like I am moving forward. The thing about working at a small community hospital…you start seeing some of the same patients again and again. It can get a bit discouraging feeling like you aren’t making much of a difference when the patient you discharged last week is your new admission this week. 

This feeling of having everything on hold and just getting by was starting to weigh on me last week until one of my patients reminded me that it’s all a matter of perspective. I had this lovely, funny, kind-hearted patient that I had the honor to care for. In spite of some really bummer circumstances she was doing her best to remain positive. The second day I was her nurse she had a really hard day physically. She wasn’t making the progress she was hoping for and emotionally she was spent. 

At the end of our time together, things were starting to look up. Before I left she told me that she thinks God puts people in our lives just to help us through one moment and for that day, I was the person in her moment. As I left I knew she had done for me more than I had done for her. She had reminded me why I love my job. Even though I can get discouraged by the readmissions and the quantity of body fluid, I get to share these really personal moments with my patients. What an honor. I needed the reminder to get unstuck.

I love fall. Fall feels like it is full of possibilities. Ironically this feeling coincides with the kids returning to school. I am sure that is merely a coincidence…I feel like I can catch my breath, get organized and exchange the pinky grip I have had on life for a full hand. Today is my first day alone in probably three months. It has been refreshing. I took the kids to school (who appear to have forgiven me for not being here when Audrey started yesterday) went for a long run, stopped at my favorite coffee shop (which is actually not Starbucks contrary to popular belief) and took my new, slightly crazy dog for a walk. Here’s to a new day.

Bookworms

I screw up a lot as a parent. I can name at least five things I wish I had handled differently just yesterday. I am doing pretty well today but that’s because the kids are still in school. I am a great parent when they aren’t here.

In spite of my MANY shortcomings, I am proud of the fact that both kids are readers. My kids love to read. Mason REALLY loves to read. Books actually get him in trouble. Just this morning I had to take his book away because he wasn’t getting ready for school. He gets so lost in his books that he becomes pretty unresponsive – or maybe that is because he is in middle school. Either way, the kid love to read. After we got the fourth overdue notice from the middle school librarian he told me, “Mom, I am still probably one of her favorites because I check out so many books.” I explained to him that I think you fall of the favorites list if you never return any of the books. 

I LOVE to read. Really love it. That’s why I majored in English the first time around. I didn’t mind that each class came with a minimum of 5 books. My favorite place to go is the bookstore. Now that you can find coffee shops in most bookstores…added bonus. I am not afraid to admit I get a little sad when I finish a good book. I knew one of my now dearest friends and I were going to get along fabulously when she told me that sometimes she and her mom will read the same book at one time and just tear the book in half so they can share. 

Both my kids have participated in Battle of the Books. It’s like playoffs in sports but for the bookworm set. They have to read a set of predetermined award winning books and then compete against other schools. Mason’s team even went to districts this year. It was wild….100’s of kids, many with matching outfits and team cheers. I had no idea there was so much competition and intensity surrounding books. When I heard that nationals was in Hawaii I wished I had made Mason read all the books instead of just some and quizzed him late into the night. They were out in the first round but in the sadness of defeat they all solemnly vowed that each person had to read all 15 books next year, not divide them up. Maybe Hawaii is still in my future.

Of course Audrey’s Battle of the Books team this year made matching t-shirts. The fashion was just as important as the reading. If you are going to be a reader, you have to do it with style proving that being a reader is cool too.

With summer looming ahead, I am glad they like to read. The first stop when someone breathes the dreaded b-word is to the library or better yet, the bookstore. They have the caffeine.

Not the Time of His Life

With middle school comes outdoor school. Ask any adult about outdoor school and more often than not their face lights up and they talk about all their wonderful memories. The words “best time in middle school” are often iterated. It’s a time to be with classmates, counselors and enjoy the outside without parents. My school didn’t have outdoor school but I have been to school and to camp so I get the drift.

It has been with excitement and dread that I watched Mason’s outdoor school approach. Initially I wasn’t sure he would want to go and I was prepared to support him either way. A few months back he said he wanted to go so we have been talking about it and making plans. I have to be careful now that my kids are getting older. I know my mere existence they find embarrassing at times so I have to be extra cautious what I put in print so they don’t disown me yet. I will just say I believe I have kids that are more sensitive than average. Before my kids were even in school “The Highly Sensitive Child: Helping our Children Thrive When the World Overwhelms Them” was a staple on my bedside table. Feelings, the good and the bad, come big in my house. The sensitivity can also extend to clothing (socks worn inside out because they feel better), emotions, sounds, etc. You get the idea. Anyhow, both my kids – with one in particular – like their routines, spaces and down time.

I watched outdoor school approach and did my best to be confident, encouraging and brave. After the first night I convinced myself that things were probably okay because I hadn’t been called. By the second night I was feeling pretty good and the third night I slept like a log feeling like we had overcome a giant hurdle on the road to independence.

Turns out, the “time of his life” was not how he described it. It was hard. He was sad. Really sad. Things got better as the week went on but it wasn’t awesome-to say the least. He wouldn’t do it again and now his sister is pretty sure she wants nothing to do with it.  I have two years to explain that his experience doesn’t equate to what her experience will be. I feel sad that he had a hard time. I feel a little bad when I see all the posts about friends’ kids who had a blast. I am happy for them but sorry that my kid didn’t feel the same.

But, in the middle of it, you know what I am? I am super proud of my kids. I am proud that my younger one goes to school without crying any more. I am proud that my oldest one got on the bus and went to outdoor school when he could have chosen to stay home. I am proud of them for being honest that sometimes they just find life overwhelming. Outdoor school wasn’t the time of his life but how awesome that the time of his life is still ahead of him.

Perspective

I don’t really like working on weekends. Part of working at the hospital means working every other weekend. Sometimes it is fine and I don’t mind missing the rainy soccer games or the “what should we do now, mom?” Some weekends going to work seems like a break from routine. But, most of the time, I would rather be home on the weekend enjoying the kids games, family time and heck, attending church more regularly. Just last year the associate pastor asked me if I was new. I had been attending for five years. Of course he knew Michael and was probably thinking what a dedicated, committed single dad. Oh well.

Easter morning I really didn’t want to work but it was my turn. I grumpily threw on my scrubs and, because I have super early risers, was able to witness the Easter egg hunt before I left at 6:30 a.m. As I was driving in I had an Easter moment. If Christ could hang on the cross and die for me, I could probably muster the good will to go to a job I love, with coworkers I enjoy, even if it was a holiday. With my attitude slightly adjusted, and a latte, I arrived at the hospital more ready for the day.

Apparently Someone thought I needed even more perspective. One of my patients was roughly my age and just 24 hours prior had been leading a life not dissimilar from my own. Then pain that would not quit brought him in to the hospital and within a day he had surgery and a diagnosis that would be life-altering.  Even in the midst of his news he was pleasant and cooperative. Wow. And I was just grumpy that I had to go to a good paying, awesome job on Easter. Okay. Point taken. 

My patients continually remind me what it looks like to face adversity with faith and a hopeful spirit. It doesn’t always look pretty or clean but it is possible. I find this parenting, work/family balance, relationship thing hard. Really hard. Sometimes the challenges of it can get the best of me so it is nice to be reminded that sometimes I just need to step back and get some perspective. Working Easter wasn’t so bad after all – oh and the fact that my family came to the hospital and brought me my own Easter back with A LOT of chocolate helped too.