Christmas Traditions

Christmas time is for family and traditions.  It's really for children.  It's seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning when they see all the presents under the tree or seeing them struggle with their lines in the Christmas Pageant at church.  It's hearing them sing all the wrong words to the Christmas carols and hymns.  It's listening to the sound of feet pitter pattering down the hall and hearing the screams of delight when they realize Santa came. It's the licking the spoon after candy making.  It's the hugs and laughter and joy from children that make Christmas so worth it. 
When I was a little girl my Daddy and I would go out into the woods a few weeks before Christmas on his horse to find the perfect Christmas tree.  Granted we were just looking for a old cedar tree that God happened to shape like a Christmas tree, but to me we were finding a treasure.  We'd look and look and I'd usually find all the trees that were growing up between a fence row - for some reason they were always the prettiest. Then I would ask my Daddy why didn't they make that fence go around the tree, and he'd explain that the fence was there first and the tree grew up into the fence.  Now that really blew my 5 year old mind.  Then, we'd have a very long conversation about how birds eat seeds and then sit on a fence and poop.  Lovely Christmas tree finding conversation.  Finally after some searching and more than likely me complaining about my booter being tired from sitting on the saddle and hungry and cold, we'd find the perfect tree.  We (meaning he) would saw it down then we (meaning he) would tie a rope around the trunk and we'd drag the tree home.  At that moment when we lit that tree up, it was just as beautiful as the tree that graces Rockefeller Center.  It was our tree, one that we were proud of, one we made memories with, one we started a tradition with. 
This Christmas we are continuing our traditions, not the Christmas tree one, but all the others that we have established over the years.  We will make candy on Christmas eve, read the Christmas story, eat and laugh on Christmas day, and make my wiener dog wear the reindeer antlers.  We are blessed enough to be able to do it with rejoicing hearts this year.  Sometimes I  imagine what life would be like if Heath hadn't made it, and I shudder at the mere thought, but Christmas time would be the worst.  My heart aches for the families that are without their loved ones this Christmas.  The only peace I can think they will find is remembering past Christmas's and the love that was shared then.  If you are blessed enough this Christmas to be with your loved ones - start a new Christmas tradition - don't wait for next year or for a near death experience to realize you need to love what is here in the present.  Begin a tradition that will carry on for years to come.  Even if it's as simple as riding in the woods to find love and make memories. 

From our family to yours - Merry Christmas!

'Til Tomorrow

Norman Rockwell Christmas

I love Christmas.  I tend to get a little over excited at Christmas time.  I cry at the dang Folgers commercial.  I act like I have never seen Christmas lights when I drive through Minden and press my face against the truck window.  Jeremy hates it when I do that - he says it leaves smears on his windows. Killjoy.  I almost lose it whenever Rudolph comes on prime time.  I turn up radio and sing Christmas carols  like I'm a rockstar.  I don't care if they all cover their ears or give me dirty looks - my coworkers secretly love it. I almost go into a diabetic coma eating all the candy everyone sends - I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.  I scared a poor little patient yesterday whenever I asked her what she wanted for Christmas and she said "The Michael Jackson Wii game," and then I screamed "Oh,OOOOH, meeee too!". She jumped and looked a little frightened.  I may have even spit on her a little bit.  I just love Christmas.  But then my anxiety sets in and I panic a little bit.  I realize that I haven't gotten everything done I wanted to do. I start counting all the things that are still not done and I have a small nervous breakdown.  I cry, press my face against the wall, lose it, sing loud, eat, and yell - but it ain't the happy excited kind.   I still have Christmas cards to mail, gifts to buy, candy to make, decorating to do and cheer to spread.  I start to count the days and I can't believe it's right here staring me in the face. But right before I have the melt down in the aisles of the Wal-Marts, I stop and breath and talk to people and realize - everyone is in the same boat and even if everything isn't  Norman Rockwell perfect - it is perfect.  We celebrate and rejoice because every year no matter what Christmas comes without fail. It will be just as perfect as the first Christmas even if I don't buy one present or hang one wreath.  I just have to remind myself every year. 

'Til Tomorrow

Confessions

Have y'all seen the picture of the smoking baby?  I mention it here to remind myself that other kids do bad stuff too.  I know when you looked at it you probably were appalled and then kind of laughed.  That was my reaction today.  But not to the smoking baby. 

I had a childhood friend that I shared everything with.  We played together, took dance together, vacationed together, and even got in trouble together.  We were inseparable.  As running buddies, we shared a special secret.  We cussed when we were in elementary school.  And we cussed good.  We knew how to cuss like poets.  You know, using the cuss words correctly.  There is nothing more annoying than hearing someone use a cuss word out of context.  It's just so amateur -  not us, the professtional 2nd grade cussers.  We knew just when to say the correct cuss word and when.  We were cool.  I can remember a girl coming up to us on the playground and saying, "So- I hear y'all cuss. Is that true?" She was a grade ahead of us so it was just special she was even talking to us.  We replied, " Yeah.  So?" Older cooler girl, "Ok.  Just asking.  Cool."  Then she put her cigarette out with her foot.  Naw, just kidding about the cigarette -not about the conversation.  True story.  Now, we were young so we weren't using any big league cuss words.  We were smart about it, we made sure we didn't cuss around any tattlers or teachers or parents.  Anyway, we cussed and we cussed artfully.  I guess every kid does.  Sorry Mama.  I know you tried.

Today, I got "The Call".  The one where a teacher calls to tell you that your child asked if _____ was a cuss word.  THE CUSS WORD.  You know the one.  The granddaddy of them all.  After I revived myself with smelling salts and someone performed CPR on me, I composed myself enough to ask the teacher where she *gulp* heard it from.  Apparently, it was written down (not by her) and she sounded it out.  She is great with phonetics.  Mercy me.  Parenting ain't for sissies or the faint of heart. Yes - I was appalled but then I faked a laugh and then I moved on.  Thank goodness for good teachers. And a sense of humor.  And a strong heart.  And for Lava soap.

Til Tomorrow

Heroes

We aren't promised anything in life.  We aren't even promised that we will get to come home tonight after work.  Sometimes just the routine things that we do everyday may be our last time to do them.  What if the last time you talked you your mom was the last time? What if the last time you kissed your husband or wife was the last time? Or what if the last time you tucked your baby into bed was the last time?

I don't know Pie personally but I am pretty sure she's the baddest chick in town.  I am impressed with her quick wit and cool head. She's so cool that I think I might be her for Halloween next year. She makes women everywhere want to own a gun and know how to use it.  Now, if y'all aren't familiar with what I'm talking about I will give you the abbreviated version.  Pie was kidnapped at gunpoint from a gas station in Springhill while she was pumping gas.  She was then forced to drive into Arkansas, where she made a decision that probably saved her life.  She decided she wasn't going any further with this man.  She grabbed a gun, fired shots at the dude, bailed out of her car, and then she ran for her life.   As I watched her interview on a local news station, I was struck by her comment about "the will to live".  Wow.  She knew exactly what she had to do to stay alive and she knew exactly why she needed to be alive.  I'm sure in a million different ways she thought about a beautiful little 4 month old girl she needed to pick up.  She knew that she had so many things she had left to do.  If she was like me she had laundry that needed folding and chicken that needed cooking. She probably even had a Wal-Mart list.  She may have even forgotten to feed her dogs that day.  She had to give her husband a good night kiss and (if he is anything like mine) find his socks for him.  She had diapers to change and kisses to steal.  She had bedtime stories to read and a game of peek-a-boo to play.  She had a life to live.  An ordinary, extraordinary, plain, wonderful life.  I don't know what actually went through her mind, but the thoughts were of her family - that I'm sure of.  The will to live far outweighed any fear that she had.  Her will to live - her survival instinct - was fueled by a family that she had said good bye to earlier in the day and even though it was unspoken, she promised them she would return.  It was all in her goodbye.  You and I say it everyday - "Bye! See you later".  Some don't get to keep that promise, but Pie did.  She not only got to come home, but she showed her daughter what a hero is really made of. In years to come someone will tell that little girl what her mom did and she will be so proud to have such a strong courageous mommy.
Thanksgiving this year was sweeter than the last for Pie and her family. They had so much to be thankful for.  Whenever faced with a near tragedy it makes the plainest moments in life that much sweeter and more meaningful. 
I know about near tragedies, and I know about sweeter moments.  Tomorrow is never promised, we don't know what is in store for us.  What we do have is the now, the exact moment when we start living our life and we stop waiting for the tomorrow we are never promised.

Pie- I'm glad you got to keep your unspoken promise and come home - Welcome home to your new life!

'Til Tomorrow 

Microphones

Photograph by Amanda Morgan

I spent last Sunday doing something very out of character for me.  I spent the entire day at a Ropin'.  You can't say "rop-ing" it's not right... you must pronounce it Ropin'.  Glad we got that cleared up.  The Ropin' was a benefit for Heath and again the cowboys didn't disappoint.  Heath even made an appearance wearing his real clothes.   It was the first time he'd worn jeans in almost 3 months.  He looked good.  He looked normal.  He looked (as one of  our smart alec friends put it) like a "family of Mexicans had moved outta them jeans".  Not to worry, the good people from Sarepta and Ivan are trying fatten him up with tons of food being brought just about every other day.  This is the southern way - you can be hurt, but not hurt and skinny.  We love our neighbors and friends.
I missed a once in a lifetime opportunity at the Ropin'. I will never forgive myself for it either.  I missed my father giving a speech.  In a microphone.  Without stuttering.  Kids will probably study about it in history.  It will be right up there with Abe Lincoln's and JFK's speeches.  I even heard that he might be thinking of becoming a professional speaker.  He could be hired out for parties and stuff.  After the "Great Warford Oratory" the Ropin' got underway.  The whole day was another example of just how kind and giving people are.  I was touched to see almost every rider come by on their horse and tell Heath how glad they were to see him or just give him a big grin and then swallow the large lump in their throat.
An act of kindness late in the day made my brother the proud owner of one the saddles all those ropers came to win. A very kind gentleman that won a raffled saddle gave it right back to Heath.  This man was a perfect stranger.  His kindness won't be forgotten.
As I, the black sheep, sat and watched all day the riders and the sport my people love, you'd think I would start to get the fever.  The wrangler fever - as I like to call it.  I will admit that I can appreciate the dedication and skills it takes. This sport ain't for the sissies of the world.  First you really need to know how to ride - and ride well.  Then you have to be able to do two things at the same time- which totally disqualifies me.  I was, however, very interested in one part of the roping and I'm pretty sure that I could excel in.  I was very impressed with that lady in the box with the microphone.  Oh my-  how I need one of those.  There's power in that microphone.  I need one real bad.  She has the best job ever- hands down.  When she called out a name, they all listened.  She was a woman after my own heart.  So, whenever you see Jeremy tell him all I want for Christmas is: one arena, 87 cowboys to boss around, and a microphone.  That's all I want.
Thank you again to the men and women that made this day successful.  And to you - lady in the box with the all powerful  microphone: I love you and your microphone.

'Til Tomorrow

ACME Dingo Boots and a Man

Several years ago I finally won an auction on e-bay for a pair of vintage 1972 ACME Dingo boots. I almost never win anything on E-Bay and if I do I wonder if I am getting the shaft.  Anyway, these boots were stinkin' cute.  They were also a size 7 1/2.  That wouldn't be a problem except I wear an 8.  I just figured I'd wear them without socks.  Or really really thin ones.  The best part was that they only cost me 12 dollars and to my surprise when they arrived they were real boots and not a picture of boots.  I absolutely loved them.  However, my feet did not.  The first opportunity I got to wear them out was a "date" with my husband.  Anything that gets me out of Sarepta and doesn't involve going to Bass Pro or The Home Depot is a "date" to me.  While we were eating at the restaurant I shall not name because I can't remember where it was, we got into an argument over something I shall not discuss - because I can't remember that either.  I'm sure it was Jeremy's fault whatever it was.  Finally after 45 minutes of staring at my steak and potatoes and not speaking we decide to leave.  I was mad, but I was looking cute in my 1972 Dingo boots.  The restaurant must have decided to wax their floors that morning with Crisco. Just as I marched past the bar, thinking mean thoughts about Jeremy - my beautiful, half a size to small boots defied me and I slipped.  The graceful creature that I am- was able to stay off my face and luckily I fell on my booter.  One leg went behind me and the other went way out to the side.  It didn't hurt. Much. Except for my pride.  Jeremy scurried up behind me just as the bar patrons turned from their stools.  I heard an "OOOOOOOO" and then they all gave me a round of applause and someone even whistled. It was a glorious moment.  Jeremy picked me up and rushed me out the doors as fast as he could.  My head never looked up until I was sure I was in the parking lot.  Here I was - mad at my husband for whatever he did to me, humiliated in front of half of Bossier City, feet hurting, and probably a pulled hamstring from my stunt.  As I hobbled back to our car my sweet, loving husband turns to me and asks "So, uh, where do you wanna go next?"  I wish I could say I smiled sweetly and kissed his sweet lips, but I won't lie to you.  Luckily the brain damage has blocked out what I said to him. 
 Unfortunately, I cannot say that was the most embarrassed I have ever been.  I have managed to embarrass myself many times over, but maybe we'll  talk about those another day.
So....... Jeremy tells me the other day that I probably won't be able to blog about Heath forever and I should probably should find something else to write about. I agreed. Sometimes he has good ideas. He's a really good husband/father/man. He still can't find the milk in the refrigerator. Or his underwear or socks. And he reads my texts over my shoulder - which drives me crazy and usually gets him an elbow in the gut. Other than that he's a pretty good guy. That got me to thinking- what in the world am I going to blog about? I guess everything and nothing. I will probably just have rambling thoughts and maybe even a idea every now and then. My hope is to make you laugh and smile. Just laugh - laugh loud - laugh at yourself - laugh at your kids. Life is just hard sometimes, we can fall down and sometimes in front of a lot of people.  I hope you have someone to pick you up or at least help you up.  Laughing makes things so much easier.  If you ain't laughing you ain't living.



'Til Tomorrow

Everywhere I look are signs

The crying started at the hospital.  It was a sad goodbye. All of them hugged him like they were hugging their best friend, not their patient. They kept telling us that we were going to be back, but we all knew it wouldn't be the same. Then Heath did something that took my breath away. He WALKED out those double doors, just like the last 80 days never happened. The same doors that he was whisked through on a stretcher with his life in peril.   I knew he would, but actually seeing it come true was just unbelievable.  He turned to the nurses, lifted up his arms and waved goodbye.  As he walked down the hall, my heart couldn't take it any more.  In that same hall, I had cried so many tears and said so many prayers, along with my family.  It was just too much to hold in.  I hadn't cried many tears in front of him, but now they were nothing but tears of joy.

The ride home was filled with so much anticipation.  The world looked different than it had before.  The landscape was painted with beautiful hues of fall and the air was filled with a chill.  The interstate was filled with cars passing us by.  We were taking the slow ride to home. As we approached Sarepta, the reality hit me.  He was coming home.  It was here.  Then we saw the first sign telling us we had 2 miles left. The signs were proof positive that we are honored to have some of the best friends people can have. Some of them were encouraging, some funny, all were heart warming.   The signs continued on and on until we reached Crow Lake Road.  Our caravan pulled on to the street and we were greeted by more people than we could count.  Men, women, children were there waving and cheering.  It was again overwhelming.  Their anxious faces scanned the cars to finally see Heath in person.  They were almost as happy as we were.  Our friends had made his homecoming just as special as a hero's welcome.  The sweet faces I saw wiped away tears and smiled through cheers.  My heart almost burst. Heath's own driveway held the best spectators.  Gunner and Paige jumped up and down with little excitement filled faces.  If you have never heard joy expressed, then you should listen to the squeal of 2 children greeting a man that has been gone from home way too long.  These little things in life are what matter. 
I watched as Heath walked to greet his welcome crew.  The gigantic grins and handshakes were abundant.  The gentle hugs he received from men and women brought a tear to my already crying eyes.  Then, he did the first thing he said he was going to do.  He just walked around and looked at everything.  I watched him as he looked around, looking at things as if it were the first time he had ever seen them. His horses even came to the fence to greet him.  They nodded and brayed as if to say, "Welcome home my friend".

After the crowd finally thinned, he stepped into his house for the first time in over two and a half months.  We were a finally a family again- right where it all started.  Ironically, Heath lives in the same house he and I grew up in. We had come full circle.  That night I watched something- that if you didn't know our circumstances- would seem so normal to anyone else. Heath sat around his own dinner table and ate dinner just like he had done many many times before. He laughed and talked with his family. He listened to Gunner and Paige tell about their day at school. Then, he went and sat in his recliner to watch the 6 o'clock news.
Heath's journey been so very hard and he has endured more than one man ever should. But then again, we wouldn't know how sweet life sometimes is and how it can be gone in a flash.  We have learned to cherish the good days and still praise Him when they are bad. 
Tonight when you go home and kiss your wife or your husband and your kids hello after a long day at work and you sit down for supper -  remember that somewhere there is someone in a hospital wishing he could be in his recliner watching the 6 o'clock news.  And a family by his side praying to get him back there. 

'Til Tomorrow

To Lyndi: Thank you for the welcome home.  I'm sure you will always let him call you "Aunt".

**Pictures by Sheila Robertson and Andrea Jones Neal - thanks girls!

Wow

Well what can I say... I am just too choked up for words.  I have waited so long for this and I cannot even begin to describe what it feels like.  The only way to perfectly describe it is to hold your breath for 80 days and then finally exhale.   I will blog about this, but not today... I want to get it just right.  So for now I will just say - Heath is home and today was a good day. 

I will leave you with what we left behind at LSUMC... a wonderful sight... an empty room with an empty bed. 

'Til Tomorrow

Our Burn Team

Some people go to work and it's just that - a job.  They are just paying the bills or getting by for now.  But a small few get to go to work and make a difference in peoples lives.......... 

 I have been working for almost 10 years as a hygienist.  Yes, it's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it.  And plus I wear gloves.  And a mask.  And a gown.  And glasses.  And an invisible force field.  I really don't even think of it as gross.  It's just spit and blood  - no big deal to me. Through out all the years of working, I couldn't  help but become a wiser individual. Things you learn in a dental office can be applied directly to your  life and I would like to share them with you.  Although, I have millions of life lessons, this is a blog not a self help book.  So to narrow it down, I have chosen my three most important:

1. Never try to get a "stray" hair off of a  woman's  face - sometimes it's attached. And  don't try to explain what you just did.  Do not say - "Oh I didn't notice it was part of your moustache". Just be quiet and pretend like nothing happened. 

2. When a child tells you they don't like the flavor grape - just believe them.  Do not test your theory that they will grow to like it - unless you enjoy cleaning up Doritos and Air-Head flavored throw up. 

3.When you tell someone to bite- make sure to move your finger.


Some people are blessed to go to work and truly get to change people's lives.  They have the honor of taking a broken person and making them whole again.  If you work in the LSU Burn Unit - you get to do that everyday you go to work.  I will FOREVER be grateful to these people.  For the past 79 days, they have taken care of every need that Heath has had - whether it was physical or emotional.  In the first critical days, Heath was probably the most watched patient they had.  There was not a breath he took or a hand move he made that they did not witness or monitor.  The compassion that they have shown us as a family is unmatched.  They have answered every question that has crossed our lips with professional grace and a confident knowledge.  These men and women are trained professionals that have patient care as their number one priority.  They come to work everyday knowing that they are taking care of someone who is going through the worst, most painful time in their life.  They know that each moment hurts worse than the last and they see what fire devastates.  They are the ones that know how far each and every patient comes.  Each shift that changes is just as good as the one before - the quality doesn't change.  When you talk to Dr. Sittig and Dr. Richardson about their nurses -they are so proud and confident in everyone of them.  If those two Drs. give a compliment you can bet its a pretty high honor.  As much as I can speak good of the professionalism and care they have provided for Heath, I can't speak enough to you about the friendships we have formed with them.  When I say its going to be bittersweet to leave, its because we have found an extended family in these people.  They have brought food for us from their kitchens, cried with us and laughed with us. They are just good people.  We will never forget them. They have made a difference in our lives.   When Heath came off that helicopter on August 25th they already knew he was coming and they were waiting.  When they rushed him through those double doors they began fix what was broken.  I will never be able to repay them.  They saved my little brothers life - plain and simple.   The only thing I can do is offer them my most sincere and humblest "Thank you".


 Dr. Sittig and Dr. Richardson : We are blessed to know you and know your "work".  Thank you doesn't really cover it.  You are the kind of doctors that every patient wants and every medical student should want to be.

Mike: - You have gone above and beyond and we are so grateful.
Big Daddy (aka David), Ryan, Kim, Jessica, Virginia, Jennifer, Susie, Angie, Susan, Debbie, Ann Marie, Dan, Robert Dale,Emily, Heath, Carol,    - Ya'll just don't know how much you mean to us.  Thank you isn't enough. 
Shannon, Shannon and Natalie - He will rope again thanks to ya'll.
Lloyd, Glaydis, Dana, Ms. Linda, Shawn, Janice, Sara, Beverly, Ginger, Cynthia, Scott, Annie, Amanda, Terrie - Ya'll are so precious.  We've come to love you.  Thank you. 
Jewels - You aren't going to be able to get rid of us.  We love you. 
And to anyone else that has had a hand in Heaths recovery at the Burn Unit I have not named (and not by intention - only because of brain damage) : Thank you!

Tomorrow will mark a bittersweet end.  Heath will be discharged from LSUMC and be able to return home.  When we leave tomorrow we won't be gone long, he will be back. But it will be for outpatient clinic once a week so they can assess how he's doing and he will continue his physical therapy there.  The days ahead will not be easy.  There will still be pain and and healing left to do.  There will be days when he doesn't want to do physical therapy.  He will be finding his way - trying to fit back into a world that he was suddenly jerked away from. His journey is not ending here, a new chapter is only beginning.

'Til Tomorrow

Everything that Stays the Same Changes

The shirts are still hung in the closet, all neatly pressed and patiently waiting.  His "good boots" are still by the door looking like they were just kicked off.  I'm sure those light bulbs that are out are ones that he meant to change.  The house still smells the same when you walk in.  Outside, his truck still sits in his driveway, right where he left it 75 days ago.  The dogs are waiting at my house, watching for him.  All the things that he was going to get to tomorrow are still left undone.   The grass has now become dormant and stopped growing and is now a crunchy brown instead of the lush green when he last saw it. The leaves have finally changed into their golds, browns, reds and yellows.  The pool now only holds memories of the summer.  The air is now cool and inviting.  Summer has finally given way to Fall.  Our babies started school and have now learned to read and recognize words. An entire season of high school football has passed.  The state fair has come and gone.  Halloween is now just empty candy wrappers and a buggy full of reduced costumes at the Wal-Marts.  We blinked and August turned into November. 
 Even though at first glance you would believe that everything is the same at his house just waiting for him to walk through the door, life has gone on.  Even though we have missed everything around us, we know that next time it will be sweeter and not taken for granted.    Sometimes it felt like walking through a long dark tunnel, feeling our way around.  Then we would feel someone grab our hand and lead us through another day.  I believe these were your prayers that you prayed. These prayers you not only prayed, but you believed with all your heart.  And they came true.  We saw the light at the end of the tunnel a long time ago we just had some walking and hand holding to do.  Now, finally we are reaching the light at the end of the tunnel.  The light happens to be Crow Lake Road - home sweet home.  Heath knows as well as our whole family that this is not where we go back to our regularly scheduled living, but now instead of a tunnel we see a field- a field of opportunities and dreams.   Wait- maybe Heath sees a roping pen instead of a field - those are really just fields without grass anyway.

Since the beginning, people have consistently asked me two questions : How is Heath ? and When is coming home? - Well ya'll - Friday November 12, 2010 Heath is coming home.  Get your dance moves ready.  (and your tissues! )

                                                    Picture edits by Amanda Sexton

Casts

Home is where the heart is.
I bet ya'll have seen that on a billion signs or plaques or pillows. I think that in the South it's kind of a motto.  I haven't really every thought about what it means until just now. I guess that home isn't really where you live its where you stay at the moment.  It's where you find love and comfort.  It might not be at the house you pay for every month.  It may be at your work if you have a wonderful work family, or in your car if you love driving, or maybe its your hometown.  It could even be in a small little hospital room in the burn unit of LSU. It's where you would find countless pictures of loved ones and drawings from children and cards of comfort on the walls.  It's where you'll find chocolate in the corner and an I-pod playing familiar songs on the table.  It's also where you will find family members gathered around a hospital bed visiting just like it was a dinner table.  That's where we have called home for the last 71 days. 

Since last Monday, after the surgery, the donor site was giving Heath so much pain.  The pain wasn't being relieved because of a couple of reasons.  When you are on pain medication for such a long time you will eventually build a tolerance to and also whenever you have harvested 3 times from one site in the last 60 days, the site might be a little tender. To help with the pain, the wonderful doctors and nurses decided to "install" a pain pump.  This pump delivered I.V. pain meds continuously and then Heath controlled when he needed a "boost" and with a push of a button he had some small relief.  During these days the pain was about as unbearable as it has been.  It's never fun to watch someone hurt, but watching someone who has already had to endure some of the worst pain imaginable, it just seems plain old unfair.  Time sometimes is the only thing will heal some pain and that is exactly what happened.  The pain has subsided some and he is able to walk and continue on with physical therapy.  
When burns heal there is a complication that will arise if physical therapy does not counter it - contracture scars.  These are scars that could become very detrimental if left unattended.  What happens is this- normal elastic connective tissue is destroyed and what grows back in its place is inelastic fibrous tissue.  These scars will resist stretching and will limit mobility.  If physical therapy isn't done then these scars will become very hard and surgery will have to be done.  Sometimes even with stretching and physical therapy, surgery will still have to be done.  This week Dr. Sattig and Shannon were worried that his arms are developing contracture scars so they decided that he would need a cast on his arms.  As of Tuesday he has been fashioning a cast on the right arm.  It will help to hold the arm straight and keep the contracture scar from becoming hard in the bent position.  Tomorrow, the right cast will come off and they will put one on his left arm.The left one will be left on until Monday.
His burns are healing nicely and there are only a few that are covered with dressings.  This is a huge change from the Michelin  Man we are used to seeing.  Now that he is so close to coming home the staff is preparing him for that day.  Heath is like their baby in a way.  They have seen him at his most vulnerable and have nursed him back from the brink of death.  They have seen him through the most horrible experience of his life and they all have a close bond with him.  71 days with a patient is a long time to become acquainted with your patient and their family and it didn't take them that long to fall in love with him.  I told them from the beginning that they would love Heath and they all do.  They care about everything he does - right down to his beard growth.  I know that Heath can't wait to get out, but I'm sure leaving a place behind that has cared for him when no one else could is a bittersweet moment.  Heath will be home in just a few short days and we cannot be more thrilled. Lord willing - it will be next Friday.  We are about to get what we have been praying for : Sweet Homecoming - our hearts will be home. 

'Til Tomorrow

Black Cat Sprinting

Happy Halloween! I absolutely love Halloween! I love to see all the costumes, eat all the candy and blame it on everyone else.  I love the idea of watching scary movies. As kids, at our house we never really watched scary movies.  It wasn't because we weren't allowed or anything, we just didn't.  I know its hard imagine, but not everyone had a VCR in their house.  We didn't.  We RENTED the VCR at the same time that we rented the tape. The less scary movies in our house, the less chance we would end up in the bed with our parents.  My parents like to brag that we were 14 before we slept in our own bed, but they are exaggerating a bit- it was more like 11 or 12. I think that the idea of being scared is much more fun than actually being scared.  Now being scared is just a part of life.  Sometimes we just can't help it. 

When we were little, our neighbors- the Ketchums', went out of town.  They had a very mean evil cat named Tom.  Michelle asked me to go and feed and water Tom while they were gone.  Tom, the most hissing cat I'd ever seen, had a particular hatred for my brother.  Whenever Heath and I would go there to play, that cat would stare and growl at Heath.  It never missed an opportunity to mess with Heath's head- always snarling at Heath whenever he was there. Anyway,  I was feeling really nice,  so I made Heath go with me to feed the devil cat.  We unlocked the door walked in.  The lights were off, so navigating around wasn't easy.  I found the food and poured it into the bowl and filled up the water bowl with water, with Heath as close to my heels as he could be.  We looked like Scooby Doo and Shaggy creeping around the dark house.  (I'm not really sure why I didn't turn on more lights, probably because I was threatened not to leave any on and not to make a mess.) Tom was no where in sight.  I tried to call her out, to no avail.  I told Heath that I figured the cat was outside and we should just go.  Just as we turned to go out the door Tom made a throaty snarl and we both sort of froze.  Then out of nowhere, Tom jumped out of a dark corner right onto Heath's calve. It looked like something out of a ninja movie when Heath did sort of a donkey kick behind him to thwart the feline attack.  Then he screamed so loud and sissy-like a 6 year old girl would have been ashamed. He flew past me like Death itself was chasing him. I swear I saw a little cloud of dust and if we hadn't left the door open,  Rodney and Tracie would have had to replace the door because of the Heath shaped hole in it.  I don't think I've ever seen his little short legs move so fast.  He ran the whole way home.  I left ole Tom with her food and bad attitude.  I could barely walk home because my side hurt from all the laughing I did.  I couldn't wait to get home and ask him what he thought got him back there  because he never turned around to see what it was.  I'm not sure if he EVER forgave that cat and come to think of it I don't think he ever went back into the Ketchum's house for that matter.

In the first 3 days whenever we didn't know if Heath was going to be OK, I have never been so scared in my whole life. It was a true living horror movie. Now that we are past that - new fears have emerged both for Heath and us.    "What am I going to be able to do when I get home? Am I going to hurt?   Who will be there? " The questions that Heath has are understandable.  Some of  them  he has verbalized and some I just know he's thinking.  The one thing that he wants more than anything is to come home but it's not as easy as just coming home and going back to his regular life.  Not knowing is the scary part.  Everything we do and everything that Heath faces now is new territory for all of us.  We don't have a crystal ball to foresee the future and that is terrifying to all of us.  What we do know is that Heath will need many hours of physical therapy.  We know he will be coming home soon, possibly as soon as 10 -14 days.  We know he will need his family to help him through his transition from hospital to home.  And we know he will not be getting a cat.  Even though that is all we have wanted and hoped for in 68 days, now that it is upon us it will be a big change.  We can't walk outside and ask a nurse when we don't have the answers. We aren't going to have the comfort and convenience of having everything we need for whatever comes up.  Throughout all of this we have lived on prayers and faith and we know that we will make it through and Heath will do just fine. Even though we don't know how tomorrow will turn out we know that we will be able to handle things.  Our family is closer and stronger than we were before.  What we have learned through this process is : we face things head on - not with our eyes shut, even during the scary parts- we don't cut and run.  We can't wait for the next chapter - scary or not. 

'Til Tomorrow

p.s. Heath got a pain pump a few days ago and the pain is so much better - so thank you for all the prayers !!!!

Daisy was mean to Enos

This is an altered version of the General Lee.  It's pretty disgusting.  I can barely look at it without gagging. It's pretty much a spit in the face to Dukes of Hazzard fans everywhere.  It's also an insult to muscle cars and even orange paint for that matter. Oh my, I'm beginning to feel faint.  Someone- get the smelling salts! 

 If you know me at all you know that since I was a child, my hope was to become a Duke.  My dream was to marry into the family.  Mrs. Bo Duke was who I was destined to be.  I had it all planned out.  We wouldn't live with Uncle Jesse anymore on the farm, we'd get our own place, but not outside of Hazzard county - you know with the conditions of the probation and all.  And he'd have to just tell Luke that I was going to be the one riding shotgun from now on.  He would also teach me how to hood slide too. Daisy was going to have to be talked into moving to Nashville to pursue her "music" career.  I didn't really care for the way she treated Enos and plus she needed to put some clothes on. Once all that was taken care of ,we were going to be so very happy.  I couldn't wait for it all to come true.
*Sigh*  I guess sometimes we don't get to live the life we plan.  Sometimes its a altered version that we get to live-  a better altered version.  I guess I would have gotten tired of getting in and out of that car with the doors wielded shut anyway.   

Remember this morning whenever you sat up and threw your feet over the side of the bed? Then you probably got up with no problem and walked pretty fast to the bathroom. You may have even had to step over some things in the floor.  Then you went through your morning routine which probably included combing your hair and drinking your coffee.  You even ate that big sausage biscuit and had to stretch really wide to get it all in.  When you sat down at your desk or chair you probably didn't even have excruciating pain.  You probably were able to sit beside your child without telling him to be really really still so that you won't bump anything and make something hurt.  You probably didn't have to scratch every inch of your body that you could reach because the itching was unbearable.
 All of these things that we take for granted are things that Heath struggles with now.  Even though the therapists say he's weeks ahead of someone else with injuries like this, the frustration is understandable.  Heath still doesn't complain. The victories each day are cherished.   The fire burned all the skin off, but new skin is growing.  The new skin is very tight and this makes moving painful and restricted.  Physical therapy will help to prevent and repair this, but the process is slow.  The physical therapy is now done for 2 reasons : to regain strength the fire stole from his body and to stretch out the newly developing skin.  Heath's days now involve little short walks and then hitting the P.T. gym and working out.  His therapists are constantly thinking about what he needs to be able to do when he gets home.  They want him to be able to stand up by himself, reach up and scratch his head, and be able to throw a rope.  The skin that can't be stretched with therapy will have to be repaired with surgeries.  His mouth will eventually have to be relieved so that he can stretch wide open for that yawn, or that food he's been wanting for the last 64 days.  Heath hasn't wavered. Heath will get to go back to his life.  The therapists, along with the doctors, are starting him on his journey back - back to what he loves- his hopes and dreams and to his better,  new altered life.

In the arms of angels

If you ever met her, you probably never forgot her.  She was a one of a kind.  She was a fighter.  She was a dreamer.  She was my friend and I miss her dearly.  Karen Lane Nance left this world August 27, 2009 after a long and courageous battle with breast cancer.  I have known Karen for many years and then had the pleasure of working with her for nearly 8 years.  We ate lunch together almost everyday.  I loved to make her laugh.  She would light up my day when I heard her laugh.  I could talk all day long about Karen and tell you all about her cancer and how it came back after she beat  it 10 years before.  I could tell you about her dying and the long suffering she endured, but today I'm not.  Today, I'm going to tell you about how she lived.  She had such a passion for life.  When she loved you, you knew it and she wasn't afraid to tell you.  She loved her family much more than we will ever know.  This time of year was her favorite, she loved to open the windows and let the fresh air in.  She loved her flower beds and Italian creme cake.  She loved old Victorian houses and soft p.j.'s.  She loved Christmas morning and making all the food for the family feast.  Then she loved to gripe about how nobody appreciated all the hard work she put into it.  She loved to look at my scrapbooks and I loved for her to because she always took her time and noticed every single detail that I put into them.  She loved to put her sunroof back and feel the wind blowing in her hair.  She loved chicken quesadillas and Dr. Peppers with VERY LITTLE ICE.  She loved Grey's Anatomy and talking about it on Monday mornings.  She loved to decorate and loved to tell people how they should decorate.  She loved her friends and she loved to help anyone out when she could.   When I look back on the many years I knew Karen, what I think she loved most was just living.  She loved being alive and experiencing each day as it came.  The details that filled her day weren't nearly as important as the people in it.  She knew what life was really about and she lived like it. 

After she died, I dreamed about her often.  I was always telling her something in my dreams.  I think if I could tell her something now, it would be "Thank You!".  I'd thank her for all the wonderful memories and times we laughed until we cried.  I'd mostly like to thank her for showing me that life is short and not to take it for granted. 

Karen loved Heath. Her son, Brandon, and Heath were childhood friends.  Heath spent many days at her house and Karen bossed him just like he was her own.  She loved to see him grin and always made him hug her neck anytime he saw her.   His accident happened two days before the one year anniversary of her death.   I will always believe that Karen was there at that location acting as one of Heath's guardian angels guiding him to that house in the dark. She's now in the arms of angels, but for one night I think she became one.  I'd like to thank her for that too. 

                           Karen Lane Nance 
           October 24, 1964 - August 27, 2009

Happy birthday, I've missed you everyday. 

'Til Tomorrow!

Moving Day

Well we're movin on up,
To the east side.
To a deluxe apartment in the sky,
Movin on up,
To the east side.
We finally got a piece of the pie.
Fish don't fry in the kitchen;
Beans don't burn on the grill.
Took a whole lotta tryin',
Just to get up that hill.
Now we're up in the big leagues,
Gettin' our turn at bat.
As long as we live, it's you and me baby,
There ain't nothin wrong with that.
Well we're movin on up,
To the east side.
To a deluxe apartment in the sky.
Movin on up,
To the east side.
We finally got a piece of the pie.

Well, OK it's really not a "deluxe" apartment, but it does have a private bathroom and two windows.  And I guess it's not really towards the east, it more towards the west end of the hospital.  Other than that we moved it on up, uh OK down the hall. Yep we moved down the hall and so now we are those people.  You know - those people that get to walk their loved ones down the hall.  I even kinda walk like ole George Jefferson when I'm going down that hall - chest poked out, chin way up, arm swinging way behind my back, but I bumped into a food cart and the nurses told me to reign it in a little.  Yes we get to wheel Heath outside to see the sun shining after 53 days.  I'm sure it felt like coming out of solitary confinement to feel the sun on his face for the first time in a very long time. He sat there and soaked up the outside.  He smelled the fresh air and listened to the buzz of traffic and birds chirping.  He sighed and shook his head as if he was in disbelief.  It was hot and he couldn't tolerate it for too long, but just knowing that it really exists made his day.  His drivers were arguing over who would push him and then one of them told the other one to stop bossing,  so my mom had to step in.  You just wouldn't believe how bossy Casey was to me!  Then, Gunner and Paige had the pleasure of driving Heath around.  It was a bittersweet moment.  As one would push from behind, the other would navigate and hold his hand.  They were finally able to help.  They are just like the rest of us - waiting to be able to do something. 
The new deluxe apartment is nice, but it's not home.  We still have a few more at bats before we can get home. 

'Til Tomorrow

Holding your breath

When little Emmer was born it was the most life changing experience I had ever had.  I was 27 years old when she was born. I thought I had done some living.  I had a college degree and had worked several years with the public. So therefore,  I would be an excellent parent.  I knew it ALL.  I knew how to handle every imaginary situation that I had never encountered.  I was an EXPERT.  Then Paige came along and blew my theories right out of the water.  I had to eat a lot of crow.  It don't even taste bad after a while. I did things I said I'd never do with my kids.  I said I never look all white trash and "spank" my child in the aisles of the Wal-Marts.  Well,  not only did I spank my kid there I whooped her too, and if people looked at me funny,  I asked them if they wanted one.  I also said I'd never let my child suck a pacifier when she was as old as 2-  that was completely ridiculous.  When Paige was finally 3 she lost the last pacifier she had  but, wasn't without a big fat open bite!  I can't tell you how many little lessons I learned along the way.  Jeremy and I started learning these lessons on day one. 
From the moment I knew I was having a little girl, I knew she would be my little dolly that I could dress up and put bows in her hair and show off to everyone that would look. I bought clothes and bags and shoes galore, before she was even born.  I had her hospital stay wardrobe already picked out and packed up in her little bag. I couldn't wait for her to get here.  Then she got here, and I went learned I didn't know HOW to put all those clothes on.  The first time I dressed her I almost killed her.  I was so excited to put that cute little  tiny shirt on her, little did I know that you couldn't put clothes on babies like regular people.  Newborn babies are floppy and they don't help.  As a matter of fact they draw up and make things even harder.   I decided that when the nurse brought her to me that she didn't need that tacky hospital t-shirt she had on, she needed the cute pink tiny t-shirt I had packed and brought for her to wear.  My mother, who would've normally done this, had the audacity to leave me and go eat, which left me and Jeremy alone to dress and care for this baby.  I figured that I could put a shirt on a baby - I mean how hard can that be !  I  finally got one arm in the shirt after 20 minutes of trying and coaching from Jeremy.  Then we decided that I should try to get her head in that tiny little head hole. What happened next is something that I'm still not really sure of, but I'm pretty sure I'm the only mother in history that almost killed her own baby by trying to put a shirt on.  The shirt got stuck around the forehead and she started crying and Jeremy started yelling "Get it off her! Get it off!" May day! May day! We were in trouble.  I managed to get it off her strong little tiny arm. That only angered her more. The crying was deafening and her face (the part that I could see) was turning this weird purplish color (which was a nice departure from the yellow color she was).  It was stuck there on her forehead.  The longer I struggled to get it off,  the more enraged she became. Jeremy was biting his fingernails and cursing.  I couldn't go fast enough - but hey I'd just birthed a baby...cut me a little slack.   When I finally got the shirt off of her she was beyond mad and was shaking, and then did something that I would become very familiar with.  She opened her mouth to cry as hard as she could and she held her breath and didn't breathe for what seemed like a full minute. Jeremy and I looked into each others panic stricken faces and had a little mini stroke.  We didn't know what to do. Should we call the nurse and explain what idiots we were? They probably wouldn't let us take her home if they knew we couldn't even dress her.  Finally she let out a huge massive shake the walls wail and I scooped her up and apologized over and over to her. When she finally fell back to sleep, we decided that she looked great in the diaper. Babies are supposed to be naked - it was natural and we weren't going to try that again.  Jeremy decided he needed a cigarette and some nerve pills.  I was just glad her color had come back to normal.  So, we left her alone and wrapped her up in a blanket and decided we'd learn how to do that tomorrow.

Heath has been without real clothes on for 51 days now,  he's been wrapped in soft dressings.  Fortunately for the nurses,  he doesn't hold his breath like his niece does and throw little fits when they change the dressings.  According to him,  since he got his new Yankee skin and his own skin is starting to heal the dressing changes are much more tolerable.  His pain is finally starting to decrease.  He even sat in a chair the other day to eat his dinner (or was it supper?).  He has been up walking for 2 days.  He's getting stronger every single day.  His therapy is done everyday even if his therapist doesn't come in.  He's showing them he's healing.  He is showing them he wants to go home.  He is using his hands to hold cups and forks and even a toothbrush.  Determination and grit have taken the place of pain and suffering.  The days are filled with new experiences for him now that we take for granted.  Can you imagine not being able to even scratch your head or pull your sheet up?  These are tiny insignificant things until you can't do them for yourself, but now they are on a checklist of things to accomplish before you get to go home and sleep in your own bed.  The skin itself is healing everyday and still amazes me when I look at it.  There are so many levels to healing a burn.  The skin has an awesome way of healing.  The redness is still a reminder of the awfulness that has happened and I'm sure the pain is still there to remind him.  New skin is there and growing.  The hands that were once covered in bandages are now uncovered and well on their way to healing. We can even hold his hands.  They are smoother than a baby's butt. That fire burned the callouses and roughness right off.   I will never take for granted holding someones hand.  Holding his hand is such a milestone for me, because in my mind, if I could ever squeeze his hand and he could squeeze back it would be OK.  In the next couple of days he will need another skin graft. Some places still aren't healing without a graft to cover the burned flesh.  He's almost there. He has even said himself that he now sees there is a light at the end of this long dark tunnel.  This has changed all of our lives.  It has changed how we think, how we act, how we pray, and how we live.  Heath has taught us that things don't happen by mere circumstance and chance.  He has also taught us that we can't stop trying because we don't get it right the first time.  We learn from trial and error and from experience. We may not be good at it the first time but don't give up.  The hard days are fewer and fewer and the good days are beginning to stick around more and more.   He's come such a long long way in 51 days.  He's endured more than I could have ever went through in one day much less 51 days.  I have been blessed being able to be a part of this whole situation.  I am seeing firsthand how the human spirit and will to live far outweighs self pity and sorrow.  I still can't believe it's happened and it almost seems like it was years ago instead of days ago.  When the doctors think that he has healed enough and have taught us how to care for him and they think we can do it, he will get to come home.  I have been standing around his bedside watching, holding my breath, and waiting for the moment to catch up with me so that I can exhale.


 Let every thing that hath breath praise the LORD. Praise ye the LORD - Psalm150:6

'Til Tomorrow

Quitters

For every finish-line tape a runner breaks - complete with the cheers of the crowd and the clicking of hundreds of cameras - there are the hours of hard and often lonely work that rarely gets talked about.  -Grete Waitz

I'm not sure why I did, but I signed up to run cross country once in high school.  I can't remember why I did it other than a "friend" talked me into it.  She knows who she is, I won't call her name and embarrass her in front of the whole country and point out that she lied to me saying it was so much fun and not hard.  Oh my, did she lie! She couldn't have been more wrong.  I never really trusted her after that. Well as I said, it wasn't easy and it wasn't fun. I ran  at practice and one meet and I decided that cross country was not the sport for me.  What a dumb sport! It's not like you were running up and down a court or around bases! There wasn't any point to it.  I was going to quit.  Period.  No doubt about it.  But then I had the whole "you live under my house, you live by my rules" thing pulled on me, and one of their big rules was that we don't quit what we start.  Dang.  I tried everything I could think of to quit - tantrums, playing dumb, leg/ankle injury, begging, bribery- you name it I tried it.  They were totally stonewalled.  Dang, dang.  To make a long story short, I finished each race and the whole season and didn't quit.  I even set a few records - the first sophomore in history to run a mile in 32 minutes- and that was stopping to cry and throw up.  I learned a few lessons from that cross country experience - 1. I could never trust Tobie , ahem, that girl again, 2. I am not made for speed, 3. I'm not really a long distance runner, 4. I'm not a quitter.  I had done something I hated but I stuck with it and I finished.  My parents had taught me a life lesson that I would be so grateful for later in life.  Many years later, I decided that running was not so dumb and decided I would run a 5K.  I still don't really love running, but I needed to do it.  All the signs were against me doing it.  During one of my runs, I was destressing and using the alone time to sort out some important issues.  I was thinking  about how much I loved Doritos and desperately trying to keep the Indian underwear from crawling, when my dog ran by me. I hadn't gotten very far down the road and my dogs are lazier than me so they don't run- especially away from home.   Now, what I saw was a sign- a sign I should stop and go home.  My dog ran past me with a CORNDOG in her mouth. I don't mean a corn dog stick or even a half eaten corndog.  I'm talking a full uneaten perfect yummy corndog.  I think she may have even been smiling.  She was for sure taunting me, I think she wanted me to quit and follow her to the land of corndogs.  I didn't quit though, I just kept on running. 

Heath has come such a long long way.  The Yankee skin has made a tremendous difference.  It has actually been the big band-aid we have been waiting for.  Those doctors might really know a thing or two.  The burns are still painful and red, but are so much better.  The fight now he is fighting is healing itself.  The skin that is now beginning to heal, itches like crazy.  Itching is a good sign they tell us, but you tell that to the man who has to direct someone where to scratch and how hard.  The constant itching is somewhat relieved by plain ole Benedryl and the simple kindness of others.  Tightening and stretching is another road block.  The skin will tighten and pull as it begins to heal.  If this is not corrected as it occurs, you may have irreversible effects or create a situation that only surgery can fix.  As many surgeries as he has had and as many as he is going to have to continue to have, we don't want any that can be avoided.  The skin can tighten so much it can cause limbs to draw up, mouths to not open, or hands to look webbed.  The thing that combats all of this is physical therapy.  His therapists are top notch, just as every nurse or doctor or staff member that has laid a hand on him. Shannon, his OT, is working him over.  She couldn't wait to get her hands on him.  She loves the fact that he wants to do therapy and he has a drive and a passion to get things back to normal.  She is going to be a major factor in his healing.  The physical therapy was halted for a few days so that the Yankee skin could adhere and toughen up.  Now the green light has been given, and all I can say is that it's on.  Therapy is painful.  The joints, skin and muscles are all sore and tender. The stretching and moving is agonizing. Right now he can only do his arms and hands and can't do those without something for the pain.   He can feel every inch of skin stretch, each muscle move and every joint pop.  She works on him about an hour. He doesn't tell her to stop.  He just keeps on even though it hurts.  He knows it has to be done.  He breathes through it and I'm sure wants to stop, but he doesn't.  He was raised by the same people I was, he doesn't quit.  I told my parents on day 3 that they didn't raise quitters.  WE DON'T QUIT.  That's how they raised us.  We don't give up and I told them Heath wouldn't ever give up, I knew he wouldn't.  He hasn't and he won't.  Quitting is not an option, it never has been and it never will be. 
Heath is running a slow painful race.  Even though he doesn't want to run it, he's not quitting.  

'Til Tomorrow

Top Ten

Don't ya'll just love this fall weather? I love fall.  Every single thing about it -the changing leaves, the cooler temperatures, the sound of a football game on a Friday night - everything!  I always think of fairs and carnivals whenever the weather changes.  I'm sure the Cooty Zoo will be back in town before you know it.  Yes that is what I call the little "carnival" that comes to the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. I have to make something up good so that Paige won't want to go.  Cooty Zoo was pretty descriptive if you ask me.  I'm sorry I just don't trust the traveling death circus, where kids ride until they throw up and the clean up crew consists of a kid named Jr. with a hose and one paper towel. 
A few years ago I broke down and gave into Paige's constant plea's and took her to the state fair.  I figured she was short enough that they would deny her to ride all of the puke-inducing rides, so I went to the Wal-Marts and stocked up on some Germ-X and away we went.  Now I don't know how long it's been since you went to the state fair or any carnival for that matter, but the ride workers are .... how shall I say this..... sometimes in need of dental care or speech therapy.  Well, after we devour 3 seven dollar hotdogs and survive a heart attack from ole Jeremy over the price of everything, we decide to hop on the Merry Go Round.  It's a simple, old, slow ride.  It must be safe and not to hard to operate.  As Paige and I are waiting in line to ride, I start watching our ride operator.  He looked like a homeless man on a date - he was pretty dressed up.  He has the classic fingers cut out of his gloves thing going on- except for the pinky, I wasn't sure why but I didn't ask and a skull cap.  Jeremy looked like the proud Dad he was standing behind Carnie with the camera.  When I got a little closer, I noticed that Carnie had a one tooth.  It was so pretty, it dangled down like a Christmas tree ornament. It kinda moved when he "talked".  Well, it was finally Paige's turn, but she was so young she was a little bit scared.  Maybe it was because I told her she might get worms from that ride, or it could have just been her age.  Anyway, I asked ole Carnie if I could ride with her even though I didn't have a ticket.  Now, I'm not sure if it was the tooth flopping back and forth or the smell of Jack Daniels that had me distracted, but I couldn't understand what he said.  He sounded like he was trying to talk without putting his lips together.  I asked politely "HUH?" and, again he said "uhyocagetonthewwifhewidoncawe".  Then I just stood and stared blankly at him.  He then shouted "UHYOCAGEONTHEWWIFHEWIDONCAWE" and threw his hands up.  I, at this point start to giggle, and told him I just didn't understand. Carnie was not happy, actually he was a little bit mad.    I looked over to Jeremy, who had went from proud Daddy to embarrassed husband.  Jeremy was all red faced and mortified looking, so he screams at me "Get on! He said you could get on there!".   I hurriedly snatch Paige's little arm up and got her on her horse. Then I looked back over at Jeremy and Carnie - I see Jeremy making a circle around his ear and then telling Carnie, "She's just kinda slow sometimes, sorry about that man."  Carnie thinks that is the most hilarious thing he has ever heard in his life and then winks at me everytime I pass by him.  I couldn't stop laughing  so we had to leave when we got off.  I'm not sure who was more embarrassed me, ole Jeremy, or Paige for having two parents who sometimes act goofier than the one toothed merry go round operator. 

I hate it when I can't understand things.  I am a thinker and a planner.  The not knowing drives me crazy.  It causes chaos in my mind and I go round and round with myself over all the questions in my head.  We have asked at least a million questions to the doctors through out this process and I may understand some of things they tell me and then some of them just sound like ole Carnie is answering me. I am always trying to understand what all of this means.  Understanding doesn't always come at once.  It is something that takes time.  Getting the right answers not just the answers you want to hear is a big part of understanding.  We know that Heath is eventually going to be OK.  We know that God is holding our hand this whole way and that ya'll must be praying so hard, because He is listening.   We know that every question we have asked will eventually be answered.  People have asked us a lot of questions too.  I thought I'd list the top ten questions today because ya'll have been so faithful in all of your praying and I know you all feel like you are right there with us.  We wouldn't be able to do it without you.  And I know each one of you loves Heath now - even if you don't him personally.

1. Is he still in ICU?
    * Yes.  Scotty tells him that he is in the Presidential Suite.

2. When will he get out of ICU?
     * We don't know.  He may not.  Sometimes patients go from ICU to home.  As of today, Heath has    been there 42 days. 

3. Is he eating ?
    * Heck yeah! The boy has talked the nurses into bringing him home cooked meals now!

4. Is he mooing yet from the bovine serum that was mixed with his Yankee skin?
      * Not yet. 

5. Is his fever still high?
    * At times.  He still runs a low grade temp most days but the nurses say they haven't seen a burn patient yet that doesn't.  He doesn't have any infections at this time. 

6. Is he in pain?
    * Yes.  Just about all day he experiences pain.  It increases whenever he has to go to Hydro or physical therapy, or when he is being transferred or moved or when I accidentally mashed his ear with a q-tip.

7. Is he craving cheese because of the mouse cells being mixed in with the Yankee skin?
   * No, but I have seen him twitching his nose a lot.

 8. Did the Yankee skin adhere and take?
     * Yes it did!! 75% of the cultured skin took and the Dr said she was pleasantly surprised!

 9. Will he need more skin grafts?
   * Yes he will probably need one more.  There is a place on his back and leg that need some skin.

10. When is he going to get to come home?
     * I don't know, but when he does I'm gonna dance in the street.

'Til Tomorrow

My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys

When you see three cowboys riding in a truck, you can always tell who the smartest is. He's the one sitting in the middle, 'cause he don't have to drive and he don't have to get out and open the gate. 

Cowboys have always been a part of Heath's life.  He's been watching one his whole life.  If you know Heath, you know how he feels about our Daddy.  He's been looking up to him since he could.  He used to live on his every word and everything he did was to try to please him and make him proud.  He couldn't wait to be just like him. He usually did no wrong in Heath's eyes.  He taught Heath  how to rope, ride, and open the gate - because I was the one usually sitting in the middle.  Heath's heroes have always been cowboys - since day one. 

Whenever there is a crisis people will do one of two things.  They will either run and avoid the situation or they will come running in with blazing torches to help.  We are usually the torch blazers.  We would like to think that if any of our friends needed anything we would not hesitate to come and help. During this whole ordeal, we have been touched to see what kind of people live in this world. I know that I have talked about this before, but we are just in awe of the kindness and generosity that people still have. 40 days later we still have people carrying torches.  I have never in my life seen so many people ready, willing, and able to help.  I am still hearing of things that people are doing in honor of Heath from ropings to gun rifles to softball tournaments.  The fact is - we just aren't used to us being on the receiving end of these things.  There is something so humbling about it all.  It is indescribable.  I guess that's why they say that giving is better than receiving. When you are receiving you just want to pay it forward.  You want to make someone feel loved just like you are. 

A roping benefit was held on this past Saturday night for Heath.  According to the ropers, it was a pretty big turnout.  About 300 teams were entered and it was an all day event.  But all of this doesn't surprise me.  Cowboys are kinda like brothers, they like to try to out do each other, but at the end of the day they got each others back.  They just can't help it - I guess it's part of that cowboy code they have all been trying to live up to.  Real cowboys are supposed to come riding in on blazing saddles and save the day.  What every one of  these cowboys did with each dally and catch was give a man in a hospital bed something to carry on.  He knew right then and there how he was going to pay it forward.  He listened to each of the winners names as I called them out and grinned as if he had won each place.  He knew every name and I'm sure he could see each face. The sport that he loved was now giving back to him and it overwhelmed him.  Each time we tell him some of the awesome things people are doing for him he sheds tears, but none like the ones when he saw a picture of the breast collar that the winners received.   He couldn't believe his name was on that beautiful piece of leather.  He was so honored that his friends and fellow ropers would do that for him.  He was the one usually trying to win it. 
Cowboys, I'm talking to all of you right now- ya'll really are what the songs are talking about.  Willie was right - cowboys are special.  Ya'll won't ever know how much you touched Heath that night.  When you pulled your trailer home that night, breast collar or not, you won.  You made people everywhere remember that the legends still live on - ya'll are the boys and girls that people aspire to be.  You have bigger hearts than you do hats.  I hope that each time you swung that rope above your head you had Heath's big ole grin in your mind.  Each and everyone of you live up to your anthem -"Cowboy Up".  Heath's hero's have always been cowboys and ya'll proved it.

'Til Tomorrow

Boy Hyde and Man Hyde

Boy hyde is something we're born with.  Everybody is born with it, whether you are a girl or boy.  Boy hyde comes off easily, especially if you wreck your bike or run fast and skin your knees all up.  We had sort of an unspoken rule in our family about boy hyde, you really couldn't cry whenever it came off because what was going to grow back in its place was MAN hyde.  Tough man hyde.  This was the real stuff you wanted on your body.  It was rugged and durable.  It must have been true because all of my older wiser cousins already knew all this and my Daddy said so.  It would be a few years later when I would stop believing everything he said.  So - when this boy hyde falls off its pretty much an honor.  We always wanted the boy hyde off.  It was weak and wimpy and undesirable. Any time we fell and bled as kids my Dad would say  "Don't cry - you don't want all that sissy boy hyde on there, now the man hyde is gonna grow back. " Oh OK- and then magically it would quit hurting and we'd quit crying and start watching for the man hyde to grow. Sure enough when a few hours later a tough scab was in the place of where that sissy boy hyde was. Scabs were the first step to getting some man hyde.   Now, either I was just a dumber kid than Paige or my delivery of this story is not as good as my Dad's.  Paige fell down the hill one summer at Lake Greason and I tried to tell her about this magical boy hyde and man hyde.  She wasn't going for it.  She cried for about an hour and limped for 2 days.  The boy hyde story may die with her. 


Your skin serves 2 major purposes.  1. It is the body's first line of defense against disease.  Its the barrier that keeps bugs out.  2. It helps to maintain the perfect body temperature of 98.6.  If you don't have skin, you don't have any thing to keep infection out and you can't maintain a level temp.  Temperature control is now hard because your body tries to raise the temp so you won't freeze to death.  The last couple of days the CEA (cultured epithelial autograft) or Yankee skin must get some air to it and dry out for a bit.  All of the dressings are cut down and Heath is put in a sheet tent and then he has hot air blow up his hind end.  The hot air is to help him with temperature control.  He gets cold very easily. The air sometimes can be painful if its blown directly onto the wounds.  This process will last a few more days and then they will put his Michelin Man outfit on him again.  We as a family, have not seen the full extent of the burns since day one.  They have been covered with dressings and not visible to anyone except for the doctors and nurses when they do dressing changes or his daily scrub down (aka HYDRO).  Seeing his face is a little deceiving to people.  His face was burned, but not severely.  He face is pretty much healed up but it  sure doesn't look like the rest of his body.  Burns are just vicious.  Full body burns are just mean.  It looks like he was just licked by flames yesterday. Redness covers the body and you can still feel the heat.   I am not sure how someone can go through this.  No wonder it must take so long to heal.  There is so much to heal.  This is what misery looks like.  This is what suffering looks like. Although my imagination had dreamed something far worse than what I was looking at, it still makes my heart skip a beat.  I realize how very close he was to death.  He was consumed with fire, except for his neck, groin and feet. The entire body.  The whole entire body.  The whole entire body burned.  Every time I think of it, I cringe, my heart hurts, and I get mad.   36 days have brought about much healing, but I see there are many more to go.  The creeping days are the ones where nothing really changes that you can see.  Seeing the full extent of those burns made my admiration for Heath just that much more.  When you can see the big picture, you can appreciate things for what they are.  This was a deliverance from evil, a walk through the valley of the shadow of death.   And I haven't missed a day thanking God for keeping Heath here.  As I looked at his body in amazement of all he had been through, all I could think of was - all the man hyde is off now Heath, but what is going to take it's place is much tougher and better than man hyde. 

'Til Tomorrow.

Yankee

Casey texted me the other day and asked me what I wanted for "dinner".  Now, as a southern girl I was a little confused.  It was 5 o'clock in the evening.  Then I realized that she meant supper.  I guess she didn't know that we eat dinner around noon and supper is in the evening.  That got me to thinking, she and Heath really need to talk these things out, maybe even see a counselor.  I just think that you should really get important issues like that taken care of so that it doesn't cause major problems in the future.  Can you imagine the chaos it would cause if she called Heath up and was like "Come home for dinner" and then he showed up at noon and there was no food. It would just be mass confusion.  I hate to get all personal with them, but I am the older wiser sister. 
Heath is always giving Casey a hard time about being a "Yankee".  She will tell you right quick she is a MIDWESTERNER! She is from Idaho which is not the North.  Its just north of us.  I heard one of my smart-alec little cousins say they thought if you lived north of Arkansas you were a Yankee.  But now, Casey has something she can rag Heath about.  He is now part Yankee.  Mmmmmhmmmm, you heard it here first.  The skin that was harvested a few weeks ago was grafted today.  The Yankee skin flew here on a plane with an armed escort.  This was serious business.  They wouldn't disclose the exact location that the Yankee skin was grown at, but they did say it was north of here and definitely east of Idaho.  I think I heard them whispering something about Boston.  Now the last time I checked Boston was just about as Yankee as you can get.  I may have even detected a slight accent change already.  I hope we don't have to get a speech therapist to make sure his drawl is safe. 
The Yankee skin was placed on the entire right arm, the back of the left arm, both flanks, and the front and back of both legs. It was then tacked down with hundreds of tiny staples. For the next several days Heath will have to minimize his movements so that the skin won't reject.  We won't know for several days if Heath is a half breed and the skin has taken. The next several days are going to be rough and he is going to be in a lot of pain.  Two surgeries in two days is hard for anyone. 
Skin grafts done with cultured skin are not common.  Growing skin is very tedious and expensive.  The literature that was sent to us described the growing process.  The skin cells are mixed with mouse cells to encourage growth.  Bovine (cow) serum and steroids also feed the cells.  Wow, the jokes I could crack with all this, but I won't for now (I'll just stick to the Yankee jokes).  The cells are brought in on cards.  They are very delicate and fragile and must be brought in by a company representative. The skin has only a few hours that it can be used after it is cracked open.  The doctors and nurses are all so very dedicated to their jobs and I am certain they were as much into this procedure as we were.  The company also sent Heath an autographed picture.  It was pretty cool looking at all those people that grow the Yankee skin that is going to heal Heath.  I think its pretty much a miracle that some skin can be grown in a lab and then begin to grow on a body just like it was always there.  Miracles happen everyday! They may not be as obvious as seeing someone walk on water, but they do happen.  As we go through the next few weeks, I'm convinced we will see one walk out these double doors.

'Til Tomorrow