Thursday, December 27, 2007

Appendix out

I started to feel sick on December 3. I was in pain for 3 days before making a doctor appointment. I thought I had just pulled a muscle in my abdomen. While trying to get out the door to get to the appointment, I passed out, and husband found me, and got me to the doctor. He called an ambulance and I was on my way to the hospital. I was out of surgery by 9:30 PM on December 6. It had "burst" and was gangrenous, according to the surgeon.

The ambulance ride was fun, but it was all downhill after that. The hospital stay was not as much fun as my two c-sections 25 and 28 years ago. This recovery has been much harder than I expected. I have not felt like doing much of anything. Christmas was a bit of a blur, but I did have some fun and some joyous moments. Stayed at cousin Marie's house for some time after coming home from the hospital. Spent some time with her son and his new fiancé from Italy. That was a bright spot in the month for me. The wedding is in July in Genoa. Would love to attend.

I have a lot to look forward to. I have my own daughter's wedding to look forward to in the fall. Renee and Jason will be married on September 19, 2008. That will be fun to celebrate.

So, I am on the mend at this point, and will be starting my independent study of Genesis and Pentateuch studies as soon as my textbook commentary arrives. I'll be back to work on January 2, ready or not. I'm looking forward to that.

In a weird coincidence, my mother's appendix flared up while I was in the hospital a few weeks ago. She was put on strong antibiotics and it has settled down, but will need to come out in early January.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Aunt Mary Cherry

What was it like to say goodbye to Aunt Mary?

It was incredibly poignant at this time of year because Thanksgiving is over and Christmas is here. I will remember many Christmas eves at her house filled with family and presents and food. She was fighting for life even during that last rough night, but she was ready to go with Jesus spiritually. She went to bed saying, "Well, Jesus, maybe this is the night I'll see you." then woke up the next morning and said, "I guess not!" I didn’t want to have her suffer like she did that last night, but I comfort myself by believing that it meant something to God in the next world, or she would not have. She taught us how to suffer and still have fun. She started all the water fights that I have ever been a part of. She taught me how to cook.

When she got her second cancer, she acted as though she won a prize. She asked for Sharon’s meatballs or Mary’s roast beef from her refrigerator in the middle of the night in the hospital just a few hours before she died. Marie was trying to keep her mind off the pain, so she asked a question, “who was that we saw who blessed you.” Aunt Mary lifted off her oxygen mask and answered her as though it was a Sunday afternoon. She has been my model for so many things, and now she is my model for dying. She truly expressed in her own way, “To live is Christ; to die is gain.” I was blessed to have her for an Aunt who has loved me from the beginning.

My cousin Mark died a couple weeks ago. He was 52. I didn't know him well, but he was loved by many and will be missed by his close family. We all knew about each other and saw each other at weddings and funerals. We all acknowledge the stories about our shared grandparents and we appreciate that we come from "good stock." Then we lament that our lives are so busy and we can't see each other often. Aunt Mary, upon hearing the news of Mark's death, said, "Well, I can't die now, it would be too hard on the family." But at 94, I guess she didn't have much say in when her appointment was. I would love to see her enjoying heaven and the presence of God. She got the MOST joy out of the simplest things. If you came home from a restaurant with an extra crab cake for her, she savored it and claimed it was the best crab cake that she had ever had in her life. I think she meant it too. We were all her favorites. She told us all the time. She was our matriarch, and I will never forget her. She was at all of my birthdays and she will be on the greeting committee when I cross over to the other side. This I know.